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She ran through the large pines and aspen which towered above her, casting eerie shadows upon the winter earth.  She had not traveled far when she spotted her unsuspecting victim.  The ominous form stealthily approached, striking with a vengeance which would have sickened any human soul.  Flesh and veins were torn from the victim’s soft white throat as the dark, warm blood splattered the albino”s fur.

SLowly, she threw back her head and howled, the cry echoing throughout the ancient forest.  A light grey mist formed on the ground spreading upward as the cry had, haunting and sad.  No other sound, except the wailing of the wind, answered her call.  As long as she could remember, it had been that way.

Far below the ridge, beneath the Mountain of Spirits, they heard the cry in the town below.  People hurried home under the dimly lit streetlight, bolting their doors.  Some of them reached for crosses or their family BIbles, but all of them were deathly afraid.  She had come back!

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On the blog before I am writing part of the this novel.  I wrote this over twenty years ago.  It was to be published, but the company had to file for Chapter 13 or 11….something like that.  It was my first book.  I wrote a sequel to it as well before the company closed down.  I didn’t write again for a while and when I did, my style had changed.  But I still like this book.  It’s a romance about lonely people, hiding in prisons of their own making and a White Werewolf, the last of her kind, the stuff legends are made from.

I thought I would do some chapters for  a while and see what you guys/galls thought.  I’d really like to hear from you since this is a different writing style.

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The snow was falling gently on the cold, icy ground.  Silence permeated the air, until the sound came bursting forth throughout the night, striking fear into the hearts of any unfortunate traveler in the area, be it man or beast.  The moon, full and glowing, illuminated the snow-covered earth, and in particular the blood-covered snow and the tracks of that which went from wolf to human, blood indented in their depths.

Thirty minutes earlier:

THe first kill happened on on a cold snowy night.  The temperature dropped 30 degrees in a single hour.  A fact which caused the pale women’s genetic structure to alter, a metamorphosis into a  nightmare.  She felt as if each cell in her body was charged with electricity.  Her blood boiled and her skin ached as it was stretched and reshaped.  Within minutes, gleaming white fangs jutted forth.  She fell to the ground, the pain and hunger riding her hard.  And then she ran.  Ran from herself, her destiny and to the call of the wild, pursued by her own demons and the thirst for blood.  She was the last of her kind, as white as she was sinister,  huge, massive and totally white.  Her fur wa thick, a necessity born of nature, to keep the biting winter winds from tearing at her flesh, and her cruel red mouth hid two rows of razor-sharp teeth, for the tearing of flesh.  She was death, in the biting winds of the far north.  She threw back and her head and howled.

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