Fenrir's Daughters: Abigail Jet

Hello, my name is Abigail and I'm the daughter of an infamous Omega werewolf, Jet Sharpfangs. He was my father, executed many years ago for hideous killings of people in small villages near the city of Odessa. I was just 12 years old living with my mother and siblings. Our home was a medieval stone house in the countryside. Father worked on a railway and mother made clothes. I remember we had to change our name from Sharpfangs to Jet, making it easier for us not to be recognised by everyone. Father was on the news sometimes, but everything else was hushed up. It wasn't made public that father died as a wolf. That was just before the abolition of the death penalty.
In my country, the death penalty is only allowed to be used against werewolves who've killed people. I don't miss my father. He was a cold brutal man anyway. He was always out drinking, or doing something sinister. I don't want to remember him.
Mother died of cancer last year. My two brothers and older sister moved away, and I remain in the house. I plan to sell up and move to Canada, to be with my fiance, the delta werewolf Carl Darkfur. He's quiet about what he is, as I am too.
As I pour over the books written by famous authors, I wonder if these people have really met a werewolf. I understand much has to be learned. I came across a book written by a scientist who discovered werewolf DNA and was then silenced. He was killed by a werewolf alpha. Our elite don't want the average person knowing too much.
There's another book, all in ancient codes and a dead language that I can't read, all stating that werewolves are from the moon. There is an even older version of the book somewhere in Ethiopia that my online friend, Sheba Cherika, was telling me about. She's a werewolf too and a student like me. I have this medieval copy of the book with me. If only I could understand what it says.
I'm a student in history on a leave of absence. Last week I visited another friend, Trina, who lives on the border near Pripyat, an abandoned ghost town. A few werewolves actually moved right inside Pripyat. Brave of them because I wouldn't do it as that place is dangerous with radiation. Some werewolves don't care. I guess they want to rebel that way.
I want to explore and discover everything about life. For now, I will talk to Carl on Skype and pack my things, ready to leave for Canada next week.   

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2015 Rayne Herbert.

Fenrir's Daughters: Sheba Cherika

Well, this isn't proper of me talking to you about this. For many generations my family haven't said a word to strangers. We don't talk openly about what we are, especially in these times.
Our family have hidden away in private for centuries. I'm not comfortable telling you my story.
Not sure why my aunt said it's okay because this is filled only with our kind. Werewolves.
Okay now, I begin.
I grew up with my grandparents and two cousins. I'm 20 years old now.
Each full moon, sometimes, I hang around in the green plateau, blending in with the wild dogs and wolves. We trust one another.
When my family and friends join the midnight freedom in our second skins as wolves, it's as though the earth is channelling through us. I can't bring that sense of wonder back to me in my human form. When I'm a wolf, my soul is too. When I'm human, my soul is human. There is two of me. So you see, we can't stay in the village at night during a full moon.
My parents were killed as wolves. They remained wolves in death.
A priestess came to visit my grandparents once and told them that my mother and father roam the land in wolf forms. It was how they died. But mother appears as a woman in my dreams. I know spirits of the dead communicate with us in our dreams.
I plan to go to the private library and it's built inside a large baobab tree trunk. Why do you laugh? The books and scrolls were once part of a grand library from the Aksum period.
My grandmother read once in a book found only in that secret library. It said that on top of the mountains in this country, is a path leading up to the moon. Yes, laugh sometimes at that.
Now I must go and find out if that book is in the library. That book is very old.
This part of Ethiopia is full of mystery. Not far from here is the Gudit stelae field with ancient monoliths across the terrain. It feels eerie but it's where many of us werewolves congregate at certain times but not every year.  I sense lots of spirits there.
Now I must go. Don't breath a word of this to anyone else.

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2015 Rayne Herbert.

Fenrir's Daughters: Sarah Bellabonna Lobo

It's so gloomy and wet tonight. The moon is a frosted crescent, but it doesn't matter. I can become a wolf at any moon phase.
Others consider me "sweet" as a flower, because of the pale silvery fur and puppy blue eyes.
In my human shape, I'm not so strong or agile. I'm limited in how fast I can run. I suffer too much flu and coldsores on my lips.
In my ancestral castle now, my fine yellow hair is plaited and my fingernails keep breaking. My family are away hunting.
We're of the gammas in the social heirarchy of the werewolves.
We live in north Spain.
I'm 19 years old, I've got two big brothers and one little sister.
There is another side to me. I produce a poison comes from my bite.
A few years ago I was walking through the Irati Jungle, which is often dead cold. I was sipping icy water from a rivulet when something a stone hit me on my thigh. There was a horrible man there, half hidden in bushes. He threw that stone at me but he was armed with a rifle. He stood up and pointed the rifle at me.
On instinct, I jumped at him and pushed the rifle away from me, that was fired off. The bullet hit into the trunk of a tree.
I grabbed the man's arm with my jaws and bit hard. I tasted his blood and so I let go of him. I fled quickly. The man wasn't stupid enough to chase after me.
Then the following week, I heard that a local hunter had been in hospital treated for a toxic infection made from a wolf's bite. That would be me. Apparantly my bite nearly killed him.
Now I warn you not to come near me when I'm a wolf.
My bite is poisonous and lethal.
I'm careful with others, especially with my boyfriend Raul when I kiss him, I need to kiss carefully. Yes he's a werewolf, but not like me.
My trait is rare. I've been given the nickname "Belladonna" by everyone in the werewolf community here.
I'm in Fenrir's Daughters, a helpful place full of werewolf girls and women that come and tell stories online or in paper. Others will give you their own stories that are weirder and cooler than mine!

Hoooooooooowl!

((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 2015 Rayne Herbert.