Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Feral Hearts Afire ❯ Chapter 1

FERAL HEARTS
AFIRE

By Hardcover

In October of 2002, deep in the heart of the jungles of a scientific expedition into the one of the wildest and least explored parts of the world discovered something extra ordinary.

While camped in the basin of the jungle, the team was suddenly set upon by a pack of wolves. It was after scaring them off with rifle shots that they saw something unusual running amongst the canines, what appeared to be two entirely hairless wolves. Intrigued, the team followed the pack into the wilderness, eventually backing the animals into a cave. There, they were astonished to find two twin eight year old girls, naked as the day they were born, crouched down on all fours, growling with the rest of the pack.

Their hair was matted and gnarled, their bodies covered in dirt. They were completely feral, as wild and untouched by civilization as the animals that had adopted them. After much effort, the feral twins were caught, and brought back to civilization. It did not take long to find out who they were: The twin daughters of famed English explorers Archibald and Rennet Farrell, whose plane had gone down over back in 1994.

The Farrells, as it turned out, had died in the crash instantly, but by some small miracle, the infant twins had survived, where they were eventually found by a female wolf who had recently lost her cubs to poachers. She’d taken the babies, and raised them as her own, eventually having the two human children accepted into the pack, where they grew up, never knowing that they were not wolves, but something else entirely.

The children were given over to the care of their uncle, Percy Farrell and his wife, Misty, and given back their rightful names: Chloe and Zoe. Their uncle and aunt, like their parents, were explorers and photographers for National Geographic, but they were also trained psychiatrists, and began setting about reintegrating the Twins into human society. It was a long hall in their large mansion in far from the twins’ birthplace of , but easily accessible to the various shrinks and behavior specialists that Percy brought in to help.

It was a lot of work; a first, the girls wouldn’t even accept clothes. They continued to walk on all fours and refused efforts to get them on two legs. After a while, however, and chance look in the living room’s large wall mirror had made something click in their minds. Little by little, they began to improve. It was apparent very fast that Chloe and Zoe had abnormally high IQs, and they learned things very quickly. They finally began to speak, picking up language rapidly, learning to walk upright, eat with utensils, and all the other finer points of human decorum.

Years went by and the Twins humanized rapidly, becoming talkative, friendly, and well behaved, for the most part. As they reached their teens, they began to seem more and more like a regular pair of teenage girls. Still, stubborn wolf parts of their personality persisted: They would run on all fours when excited or frightened of something, and their speech, already with an English accent they’d picked up from their Uncle and Aunt, had a strange growling aspect to it. They’d growl at each other when upset, yip when excited, run around naked when they could get away with it, and still clung to certain ingrained behavior from their life with the pack.

Despite all this, they were smart, and acceptably behaved, so by the time they reached their sixteenth year, their guardians had decided they were ready to attend school. They were enrolled at a private school called Academyhelped along in admittance by Percy’s connections, and soon their first day of classes arrived.



Sitting on her bed in her bedroom, Zoe Farrell pulled the long white stockings up her shin. Zoe was average height, very pretty with long blonde hair that ran strait down her head, getting wavy at the bottoms. Lately, she had taken to tying some of it up high on the sides of her head. She had wide, green eyes and soft skin, still weathered with scars from her wild days in the pack in a few places, but no where obvious. She had a small nose and full lips, and nicely rounded face.

She was dressed in her new school uniform: A white long sleeved blouse and plaid school girl cliché short skirt, with a matching plaid bow on her color. The dark black jacket that went with it, emblazoned with the Burroughs crest on the breast, lay folded on the bed. She pulled the white stocking up to her knees, marveling at how much leg these skirts showed, with was just fine with her; she didn’t like being inhathered with a whole lot of extra garments.

She felt an inch on her neck. She perked her ears up and could still hear Uncle Percy and Aunt Misty talking softly downstairs. Since they weren’t here to see her, she reached one foot up to her neck and moved it back and forth rapidly, scratching the itches as she cooed happily. Whatever the many merits of civilization might be, as far as Zoe was concerned, this was still the best way to scratch an itch. Uncle Percy would have been upset to see her do that, but she wasn’t ready to give it up.

Quickly getting her shoes on, she stood up and crossed to the mirror, checking herself out. Very cute, she decided. At least she hoped so; she looked good enough to herself.

She looked into the mirror; mirrors still held a certain fascination to herself and her sister. Specifically, the one downstairs in the den did; that wide mirror that practically reflected the whole room. In particular, it still held a heavy emotional connection as well. She remembered all too well the pivotal moment of realization that had changed everything about their lives. Sometimes it seemed like it had been yesterday, although it had been over eight years ago.

After first coming to the house, scared and frightened by the new environment, horrified to be separated from the pack, they had both began a friendship with their uncle’s dog, an Alaskan husky named Max who looked enough like a wolf to satisfy them. They would chase each other around, rough house and do all the stuff canines did with each other.

Truth be told, they had been traumatized by more then just their rescue: Weeks before their discovery, their mother, the wolf who had raised them, had been shot by poaches, orphaning the two wolf girls in one fatal instance of noise and blood. The other wolves had been forced to drag the twins away from the cooling corpse of their mother, and they had felt empty ever since.

Having Max to play with had helped with that wound, and the three had quickly become fast, if unorthodox, friends.

It had happened one day when Zoe and her sister, dressed in shorts and t-shirts that their uncle had forced them to wear, had been running around in the downstairs den with Max, chasing each other around playfully and having a good time. The twins had, of course, no tails to wag, but if they had they probably would have been doing so. They yipped and barked, having a good time as they played with the dog, scurrying around under and over the furniture.

It had been Max who had stopped and looked in the mirror first. As he had countless times before, Max mistook his reflection for another dog, and began sniffing the glass, confused and trying to find this new animal in front of him. When the twins looked in the mirror, however, they were quick to realize that the figures in the mirrors were themselves.

They both stared at their reflections, looking at Max, and then back to each other. It was suddenly all wrong: They realized, with a sinking feeling of fear, that they did not resemble either Max or the wolves that had raised them. They glanced from the mirror to each other, fearful expressions on their faces. They looked at the reflection of their Uncle and Aunt (although they had no idea that they were that), who were watching them with interest.

Looking at their image in the glass, the twins began to realize something, something both awful and exhilarating: They more resembled the strange pink animals that kept them here and fed them then they did the wolves they had grown up with. Both twins came to the shocking realization that they were not wolves at all. They stared at each other, having no speech to communicate the feeling with, and simply stared in each other’s eyes, each one knowing that the other one had figured it out too.

They whined a little as they looked at themselves. Then, they exchanged a wordless glance, something passing unspoken, the only way it could, between the two feral children. And then, to the amazement of their Aunt and Uncle, both girls began to try to stand on two legs. The struggled, fighting with bodies that had never been in an upright position before, shoving their legs under them and pushing themselves up. They wobbled leaning on the mirror for support as they tried to rise into what felt like an unnatural position.

Finally, they rose to their feet, slightly slumped down in a manner the looked vaguely simian, but they were both standing on two legs. Their guardians smiled and cheered happily, excited by this new breakthrough, the one they had been waiting for. And together, Zoe and Chloe had expressed the first human emotions that they’d ever shown.

They cried.

Zoe sighed as the memories flooded back to her, she and her sister had come a long way since then, and learned so much. It had been so frightening at first, but they had taken their first steps and run with it.

Well, metaphorically. Zoe grimaced; she still had trouble running on two legs after all this time. She was much faster on four, and covered a lot more ground. On two legs, she wobbled, and tripped, and was generally slow. She much preferred running on four legs whenever she could get away with it. She smiled, thinking about how livid her Uncle and Aunt would be if they knew that she and her sister still snuck out into the woods behind the mansion, which afforded much privacy, and ran naked through the trees on all fours. A little giggle met her lips; that was another thing she was not ready to give up. It was just too . . . free and natural to them.

Her nostrils flared and she picked up her sister’s scent, knowing she was there just outside the door before she opened it and came in. Chloe entered the room, dressed in an identical uniform to her sister, and looking more or less the same, except that where Zoe liked to tie her hair in small tails on her head, Chloe opted for two round buns high on her head in the same spots, the rest of her hair flowing down her shoulders identically to her sisters.

“Hey, slowpoke, are you all ready?” Chloe teased her, speaking with that odd mix of an English accent and a slight growl the marked the twin’s peculiar speech.

Zoe nodded, “Yeah, I’m ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“You look as nervous as I feel.” Chloe observed, sniffing the air and smelling her sister’s slight fear.

It was pointless to lie to Chloe, Zoe said, “I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. I don’t know how were going to be, if we’re going to fit in or not.”

Chloe sighed heavily, “I guess we’re going to find out.”

The twins hugged each other in support, whining a little affectionately. Then they turned around and walked downstairs, ready to face their new experience.

They ran back up stairs a few seconds later, having forgotten their jackets and book bags. Off to a rocky start.



was a large wide spread gated campus composed of a confusing mix of old fashion and modern buildings the housed a large student population. Built in the late 1800s, the school had become one of the more elite private schools in the state, educating the scions of the rich and powerful, to say nothing of the famous, for many generations.

The Twins were dropped off at the school by their Uncle who saw them off, and the plan was for them to walk back home afterwards. Chloe and Zoe had not lived completely shut off in the house all those years, they had gone out in the neighborhood and made friends with many of the neighbors, often going for long walks in the area. Wolf girls that they were, they had impeccable senses of directions, and hardly ever got lost. This was, however, their first time in a school situation, and although they’d seen plenty of schools represented on TV, no amount of High School Musical viewing could prepare them completely for the experience.

They were met by the principle who ushered them into the office and gave them the class schedule and everything else, before being escorted to their first class, history with Mr. Nickmed. The twins were brought up front and introduced the class.

“Hi, I’m Chloe Farrell.” Chloe said pleasantly.

“I’m Zoe Farrell.” Zoe said.

Right away, they twins would smell a lot of uncertainty in the classroom, and the students all looked at them with a mix of fascination and apprehension. Very quickly, they both realized that it was more then just a couple of new students: The whole class was aware of them and how they had grown up. Zoe bit her lip a little; she had hoped to keep that a secret until she could make some good friends.

Mr. Nickmed droned in an unenthusiastic monotone, “All right, lets all make Chloe and Zoe feel welcome. There are two seats in the back; you can make yourselves at home.

The twins headed for their seats. They could feel all eyes on them, regarding them as they made their way back. Chloe, always the more aggressive of the two, kept her chin up and strolled towards her desk. Zoe, on the other hand, kept her eyes down as she scurried to her seat. She wasn’t shy, neither of the sisters were, but something about the stares, some of them so hostile, made her feel threatened. She resisted the urge to growl at them.

The seat were next to each other, separated by one desk in between them, at which sat a black hair boy with small wire frame glasses who looked up at them and grinned uncontrollably. Chloe picked up the unmistakable scent of pheromones and realized right away that the boy was interested in them. She glanced at her sister and knew from the small smile on her face that she’d picked it up as well. They took their seats and the boy quickly introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m Jenson Thomson.” He said nervously.

“Hi, I’m Chloe, and that’s my sister Zoe.” Chloe said pleasantly.

She peered down and noticed that under his text books, he had hidden several comic books, a mix of American super hero comics and Japanese manga.

Chloe grinned excitedly, “Hey, you like comics? I love comics, isn’t that Hellboy?”

Zoe rolled her eyes as Chloe began chatting with Jenson, finding common ground. Her sister was a hopeless comic book addict ever since their cousins had come down from Englandand gotten her hooked on them. Even though she was the more assertive of the two, Chloe had turned into sort of a geek. She could now quote chapter and book about Star Trek.

She looked over at the girl sitting to her right. She was a fake blonde with carefully permed hair, who smelled slightly of expensive perfume. Zoe leaned over and made some introductions.

“Hi, I’m Zoe.” She said.

The blonde didn’t look at her, “I heard you before.”

Zoe flinched; she hadn’t expected a response like that. She decided to try a little bit more. After all, her Aunt always said that you catch more flies with honey then with vinegar. She smiled in a friendly manner and continued.

“Sorry, I’m just excited.” She said, “It’s our first time in school, and I’m really hoping to have fun here with everyone.”

The blonde turned and glared at Zoe, angry at the intrusion, “Yeah, okay, whatever. You two aren’t going to start sniffing each other’s butts or marking your territory are you?”

Instantly, Chloe jumped to her sister’s defense, “No, but if you keep that up, we might just bite your ass.”

The other girl’s face hardened, “Oh yeah? Bring it, dog girl.”

Chloe clenched her teeth together and let out a low growl out of the back of her throat, primal and menacing. The blonde flinched and shrank back, her arrogant expression fading to a look of fear. Without another word, she turned around and went back to her books.

Zoe felt a tap on her shoulder and looked behind her to see a small brown haired girl with thin wire framed glasses. Her hair was tied in two tails on the side, and she wore no make up. She was slightly chubby, thick through the hips, without actually being fat. She struck Zoe as the kind of girl you’d see on a TV show who didn’t know that she was pretty.

The girl said, “Don’t let Fifi get to you, she’s always like that.”

Zoe nodded, “She didn’t. Beside, Chloe always looks out for me.”

“I’m Phoebe.” The girl reached out a hand.

“Zoe.” Zoe shook it, “Zoe Farrell.”

Fifi was whispering to the girl next to her, “Did you see that? Why are they letting them in the same class with us?”

Zoe opened her book and found herself staring at a picture of a man with gun. She shuddered, no matter how many times she saw them, guns always bothered her. They took her back to the time when her mother was killed, her wolf mother. The running, the fear as the scent of their pursuers got closer and closer, and then that horrible loud noise and blinding flash. Their mother, squealing in pain, and then nothing, only the limp silent corpse that had once been their whole world.

Zoe bit her lip; they were off to a rocky start. At least it seemed they each had made a friend.


The twins had one other class with each other: Physical Education with Miss Fench, a pretty but firm teacher who also had the dubious distinction of being the new coach for Burroughs’s perpetually losing girl’s softball team. Miss Fench had long brown wavy hair that she kept tied in a pony tail and intense narrow brown eyes. She was thirty seven but could easily pass for her late twenties and was, naturally, in good physical shape. Chloe and Zoe had discovered quickly that it was a bad idea to bring up the sore subject of the softball team as it sent Miss Fench into a monologue of exasperated gripes and complaints. Apparently, she’d been handed a real nightmare of an underperforming team when the previous coach had retired.

Half wild girls that they were, the twins were naturally athletic, quickly excelling in most of the activities, except for the part where they were expected to run laps. As usual, it proved awkward and difficult, as they both stumbled and wobbled around the track, finishing last behind everyone, much to the disappointment of them both, and their teacher who had been impressed with rest of their performance.

Things had gotten a little out of hand when one of the boys had made fun of them, telling them that they were ready for the Special Olympics, to the general laughter of all his friends. Frustrated and humiliated already, Chloe had growled menacingly and shoved the boy to the ground. He wasn’t hurt, and got up laughing at himself this time, a little embarrassed but it didn’t turn into anything nasty, but Miss Fench had seen it and gave Chloe some after school detention, meaning she wouldn’t be walking home with her sister.

Back in the locker room, Zoe stripped off her sweaty gym clothes and underwear and headed for the showers, glad at least of the opportunity to get out of her clothes. She felt free and more natural when she was naked, but it wasn’t like she could just walk down the street like that. Moving into the showers she picked an empty spot and turned the water on, letting the falling water wash away all the dirt and grime.

She sighed heavily; they were trying to fit in, but every so often they kept screwing things up. Zoe was sure she’d spend the rest of her school days being the on campus freak along with her sister.

The water trickled down her skin, washing away the dirt, and Zoe hoped the embarrassment over today’s screw ups. Granted, Chloe had made most of them, but still . . . this day hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped. Then again, it hadn’t gone as bad as she’d feared either. But in the end, she was still on the outside looking in, and they always would be. They could never go back to the pack, that was out of the question. They would live their lives as human beings like they were meant to, that was obvious, but they would always be abnormal. For all the benefits of civilization that Zoe had embraced: television, hair care products, home cooked meals . . . Zoe knew that deep down in her heart, she was wild. And she always would be. A part of her would always want to tear off her clothes and run wild and free through the wilderness, and that part of her yearned to be set loose.

Free. She would never be entirely free in that way again. The thought saddened her. She sighed again, at least she would always have Chloe; the only other person in the world who truly understood her. This was her pack now.

Two other girls, Zoe remembered their names were Becka and Gillian, came into the shower and began to wash themselves off, giggling and chatting amiably. As they got under the streams of water, Becka turned to her.

“Oh, hi . . . Cl . . . Zo . . . uh . . .” She started, but then trailed off.

“Zoe.” Zoe informed her with a bit of smile.

“Chloe’s the one getting yelled at.” Gillian snickered.

“Sorry.” Becka apologized, “You two just look so much alike.”

“It’s okay. Even my uncle and aunt have trouble telling us apart.” Zoe assured her.

“I don’t doubt it.” Becka laughed, “There’s a couple of sets of twins at this school, and its the same thing, we can never tell them apart.”

Zoe’s mood brightened at the others began chatting with her. It felt good to be treated as one of the group. Maybe they weren’t all like Fifi; and Zoe was beginning to realize that the fact that she was a twin, along with her strange history, was a bit of boon to some people; it made her interesting.

Chloe walked into the shower looking irritated, “Damn, detention on my first day. And I didn’t even hurt him at all.”

“I told you not to let them get to you, Chloe.” Zoe rolled her eyes, “You’re always to quick to wanna fight.”

“It was pretty bad assed anyways,” Gillian told them, “Gordon’s not a bad guy, but he needs to get taken down a notch every once it a while.”

“Oh, okay.” Chloe snickered, “Then I’m glad I could be of service.”

Letting the water run through her hair, Becka said, “Well, I think you two are awesome. You’re like a bad assed pair of Wolverines, only pretty.”

Zoe was momentarily confused, “Are you saying we’re hairy?”

She looked down at her body in alarm, looking for spots she might have missed while shaving.

Chloe giggled, “No, dork, she means the X-man, the comic book character.”

Zoe rolled her eyes again, “Oh.”

Chloe chuckled, “She doesn’t like superheroes.”

Zoe shrugged, “I like Hugh Jackman?”

“Sweetie, we all like Hugh Jackman.” Becka laughed.

“Awe, he’s all yours.” Gillian snorted, “I want Tobey McGuire.”

And then, the conversation turned to the mainstay topic of teenage girls: hot guys, and for once, Zoe began to feel like she belonged once more. Finally, she was starting to make some friends, and her mood brightened considerably. They were on a subject that all four of them quite definitely had in common; and Zoe could now feel a little more like just a teenage girl, and not the freakish woman raised by wolves.

That almost fell apart when Zoe and Chloe left the showers and instinctively tried to dry themselves off by shaking their bodies. Fortunately, Becka and Gillian thought they were kidding.



After school, Zoe made her way off campus and down the sidewalk, going over the day’s events. She held her book bag slung over one shoulder, and moved down the walkway briskly. Out of insistent habit, her eyes and ears remained alert to any sounds or movement. Unlike most people, Zoe and Chloe paid a lot of attention to their other senses. Like a blind person, they didn’t actually have superior hearing or smell; they just devoted more awareness to the stimulus.

She was pretty much alone at the moment, since Chloe was serving her detention and Phoebe had some kind of after school project going on, so it left Zoe walking home alone with her thoughts, such as they were.

Then, her nostrils flared and she picked up the scent of another human. A male, coming the other way around the corner up ahead; a bit of smile appeared on her face as she recognized it. He appeared quickly, listening to an Ipod as he walked. Zoe recognized him, having seen him before in class, though only for a second. His name was Brendon, that she knew, and he had thick wavy black hair, deep blue eyes and slightly long face. As far as Zoe was concerned, he was positively gorgeous. She’d thought of talking to him, but she’d chickened out, not knowing how to act. She’d been afraid of making some other wolf girl screw up, like she had in the showers, and scaring him away.

Brendon stepped off the curb, adjusting his Ipod. He wasn’t really looking where he was going. To Zoe’s horror, a car came racing down the street at just that time. It clipped Brendon with a loud thumping sound and sent him flying backwards with a surprised yelp. The car sped off, not even bothering to stop. Brendon slapped into the small stone wall separating two of the houses and fell to the ground.

Instinct took over, as it so often did with Zoe, and she instantly dropped to all fours and ran towards Brendon. She ran canine style, pulling herself forward with her hands and pushing herself onward with her feet. This was the way Zoe and her sister had grown up running, and this was the way they ran best. On all fours, Zoe was perfectly capable of covering vast distances faster then any other human who wasn’t a Jamaican Olympic runner could, running with a certain cheetah like grace.

She made it to Brendon’s crumpled form in less then a second, she found him groggily trying to sit up of the accident. He didn’t seem hurt to badly, but Zoe noticed a large nasty looking cut on his arm that had some dirt in it from the lawn. Out of habit, Zoe grabbed his arm and began to clean the wound by licking it, lapping up the dirt and getting it out of the cut while Brendon tried to focus himself.

When he finally came completely to, he was, needless to say, surprised to find a pretty blonde girl crouched down over him, licking at the cut on his arm like a dog. He stared at her, not even sure what to say to the bizarre act.

“Uh . . . what are you doing?” He asked.

Zoe looked up and then suddenly realized what she’d been doing. She turned a bright red color and dropped his arm hurriedly.

“Omigosh! That was totally inappropriate. I’m so sorry.” She stammered, turned beat red, “Um . . . are you alright?”

“I’m banged up pretty good, but I think I’ll live.” He said, feeling around himself, “Feeling pretty stupid, I wasn’t looking where I was going. At least my arm’s clean.”

She stared at his face, and felt her heart beat quickening a little bit. Oh my god, this guy was gorgeous. With wavy black hair and those piercing eyes, Zoe thought she was going to melt right into the ground. The feeling faded as soon as she noticed the raised eyebrow and peculiar look he was giving her.

All of a sudden she realized that the look was because in this crouched position, she was flashing her panties at him. She yelped and quickly pulled her skirt down. Zoe wasn’t really body shy, but she didn’t need to make any more violations of human etiquette either.

Zoe flushed and looked down at the ground, embarrassed and humiliated once again by her actions. She bit her lip, why was it so hard for her to assimilate in human society. She had lived as a human for eight years, why couldn’t she get the hang of it? Now she was back to having someone stare at her like a freak.

“Uh . . . you’re one of the Farrell Twins aren’t you?” Brendon asked.

Zoe dropped her head lower, “Yeah, I’m Zoe. I guess it’s obvious.”

Brendon smiled, “Yeah, it kind of is. Were you really raised by wolves?”

Zoe nodded, “Eight years of our lives.”

“Must’ve been quite a shock to find out you weren’t one of them.”

“You’ve no idea. It was horrible at first. But . . . I can’t say I don’t like all the creature comforts I enjoy now.”

“I would imagine. Then again, I’m not much of an outdoorsman type. You stick me in the jungle, and I’m all like ‘where do I plug in the DVD player?’”

“I think if I ever went back I’d be, ‘Where do I plug in my hair dryer?’”

They both started laughing, giggling good naturedly. Zoe’s insecurity was starting to ebb off as Brendon patted her shoulder when it finally subsided, Brendon looked at her levelly.

“You see?” He said, “You’re one of us.”

Zoe looked away for a second, “Half of me is human; part of me is wild, and it always will be.”

“Wild girl, huh? I like it.” Brendon smiled, “Well, ‘Wild Thing’, I’m glad you decided to join the human race. And thanks for helping me out. I’ll see you in school.”

He got up and started to walk away, when he stopped and looked back at Zoe.

“You know,” He said, “I was gonna stop off at Mac’s Burgers for a bite, did you want to come with me.”

Zoe brightened, a wide grin spreading across her face. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she looked at him, excitement lighting up her eyes. He’d asked her to go somewhere with him. Was this . . . almost like a . . . date? She jumped to her feet, realizing that she had most likely flashed him again as she did so, but didn’t care. She skipped over to him happily.

“Sure.” She said.


In the end Chloe ended up with a miniscule thirty minute detention, and was quickly walking home flanked by Jenson and Phoebe who were leaving after some extra credit project. On the way out, Chloe had gotten a text on her cell phone from Zoe, saying she was going over to Mac Burgers with a new friend and wanted her to meet her there. It took a bit to get the text, as Chloe had never really gotten the hang of cell phones. A little help from her new friends and she finally got the text, growling irritably at the vibrating contraption.

“Zoe wants us to meet up with her at Mac Burgers.” She told the others, “Wanna go?

“Sure.” Jenson nodded, “I love Mac Burgers. They have a buffalo burger; it’s one hundred percent real buffalo meat.”

“I like the Mac Monster.” Phoebe replied, “Two patties, three different cheeses . . .”

“Mac Monster?” Jenson smiled, “Is that one hundred percent real monster meat?”

“Don’t they also serve a Jamaican burger?” Chloe speculated, giggling, “One hundred percent real Jamaican meat?”

They all laughed at that, Phoebe joked, “Great, so if you walk past the kitchen and hear (she faked a Jamaican accent) ‘No, mon, what are you doing? Ahhhh!’ you know not to eat there.”

They all broke into laughter, stopping for a second before continuing on. They continued down the street towards the restaurant, joking amiably.

As they walked, Chloe felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She sniffed the air and picked up the scent of someone else. She looked around and quickly found him, and the uneasy feeling she had intensified.

The man was completely unsavory looking, with matted uncombed hair, dirty combat fatigued pants that would never have passed a real drill sergeant’s inspection, and a long dark coat that seemed much too warm for the weather. And there was something about his eyes, something Chloe didn’t like.

She sniffed the air again, and picked up a strange, and yet familiar scent. She knew it from somewhere, but couldn’t place it. She narrowed her eyes at the man as he passed her. She clamped her teeth together, and managed to resist the urge to growl threateningly at him as he passed. He moved ahead of them and then finally turned a corner and disappeared. Chloe exhaled in relief; the others hadn’t picked up on it, but all her senses told her that the man she’d just scene was very, very, dangerous.

She was glad he was gone.



It was hard to miss the fact that Mac Burgers was just a local imitation of McDonalds: The fast food place had a similar layout and logo that involved a big yellow M, and even a small playground for kids involving a clown character named Mac. This was made even stranger by the fact that there was a McDonalds down the block. But many of the locals insisted that the food was much better, and Zoe didn’t really find any reason to argue the point.

What also made the place a little bit different from its more mainstream model was that Mac Burgers fancied itself as a bit of a sports enthusiast hang out, and the walls were decorated with photos and other sports memorabilia, with a specific focus on baseball. In fact, right next to the counter was a glass case that contained two bats mounted in an X shape, supposed from two different World Series’. Since the owner had never specified which ones, the customers were left to wonder.

At the counter, Zoe looked over the menu above, standing next to Brendon. She felt a little excited; this was in fact, her first time eating in a full restaurant type setting. Always before one of the help had gone out and brought the food back; a rather frustrating set up for a couple of girls who had grown accustomed to hunting and killing their own food. The bored looking emo chick behind the counter tapped her foot impatiently.

“So, like, what’ll you have?” She droned irritably.

“Meat!” Zoe said enthusiastically, licking her chops.

Brendon chuckled, “What’ve you got with lots of meat for the carnivore here?”

With the first traces of a smile, the girl said, “The Triple Mac Pounder. It’s so big and beefy; it’ll probably run for governor.”

They took the little plastic number cone that was given to them and went to find an empty seat. As they moved down the aisles across the tiled floor, Zoe noticed a familiar face sitting at one of the tables by herself, a small ceaser salad in a plastic disposable bowl set out in front of her. She smiled as she recognized the features from this morning.

“Hi, Miss Fench!” She waved at the PE instructor.

Miss Fench looked up and smiled back as she recognized her new student . . . sort of.

“Why hello . . . uh . . .” She began.

“Zoe.” Zoe finished off, “Its okay, lots of people have trouble telling us apart.”

“Right,” Miss Fench chuckled, “You’re the one who ties your hair on top, and Chloe does the buns.”

Zoe nodded, “But don’t rely on that, sometimes we switch off.”

Slipping into an empty table, Zoe looked across at Brendon. His eyes seemed to hold a special fascination for her; those pools of brilliant blue staring out at her from that handsome face. She felt like she could just drown in them. He was talking to her, saying something but she kept loosing track of what he was saying. Fortunately the food arrived before she could feel any more awkward then she already did.

She unwrapped the massive burger, her nostrils quickly picking up the enchanting scent of freshly cooked meat. She’d grown to love that smell, having been used to raw meat for half her life. She opened her mouth and bit a huge chunk out of it, twisting her head back and forth as she swallowed it, her taste buds lighting up with taste of thousands of calories and saturated fats. She took another large bite, sawing the meat between her teeth.

She became aware that Brendon was looking at her with some bemusement.

“Yo, Wild Thing.” He chuckled, “You might want to slow down and pace yourself.”

Zoe felt herself blush again and quickly swallowed the huge chunks of the burger, which she couldn’t do all at once, since she’d gone and stuffed her mouth full of it. Another goof, she’d gotten too excited at the smell of fresh meat, something she did all the time. She guessed people didn’t appreciate it as much if they didn’t have to fight for it.

With some food still in her mouth, she said, “Sorry, I just love these things.”

“You can take the wolf girl out of the jungle . . .” Brendon snickered.

At least he found her abnormalities amusing, Zoe thought, feeling embarrassed. Still, even after eight years, all those stubborn wild traits rose to the surface. Zoe felt her heart sink: She would probably never be normal. People would stare at her like a freak for the rest of her life.

Well, at least some of the people they’d met were intrigued by them, like Becka and Gillian, and Brendon here. She took a quick habitual inhale, avoiding the burger and letting herself pick up Brendon’s scent. She detected a body spray of some kind, but it was easy to pick up the real scents that was him. She shivered a little; he was a prime male specimen as far as she was concerned: Handsome, smart, not too aggressive, very nice, and perfectly accepting of her.

“Well, I’m with you on the burgers, they’re the best here.” He said.

Zoe smiled, “I rather think food is always better when you cook it yourself.”

“You cook?”

“Yeah, I cook. I watch a lot of the food channel.”

“Yeah, I find that kind of addictive too.”

“I think it’s a hold over from my life with the pack: In the pack, you had to earn your food; hunt it and kill it yourself.”

There was a bit of apprehension in Brendon’s eyes when she said that, and she kicked herself for mentioning it; no doubt he was picturing Zoe naked and tearing the throat of a live deer or something out with her own blood soaked teeth. But it soon faded and he relaxed. Zoe mentally chided herself again for mentioning that, but something about Brendon’s casual manner was lowering her defenses and making her more relaxed around him.

“So now cooking is your way of earning it.” Brendon observed.

Zoe brightened up, “Yes, you’re right, that’s it exactly.”

“Does your sister cook, too?” He asked.

Zoe made a face, “She tries.”

Brendon chuckled, “I hear you there. My Dad’s a terrible cook. That’s why I cook everything myself. No way am I gonna swallow anything else that tastes like axel grease.”

And he liked to cook; this was just too good to be true.

Suddenly, Zoe found herself a little intrigued by what Brendon had said: It sounded like he was being raised by a single parent. At least that’s what he seemed to be inferring. So it was just him and his dad, all alone. In a way, that was similar to how Zoe felt sometimes with her sister.

The thought was interrupted by a tall brown haired Asian, probably Cambodian, girl walking up behind Brendon. She was very pretty, with strait hair that fell over her shoulders, and a well rounded curved figure. She was dressed like them; in Burroughs’s uniform, and was obviously about the same age. The hair on the back of Zoe’s neck stood up the minute she saw her; she was pretty, and shapely, and Zoe’s female mind instantly perceived her as rival. Even more so when she put an arm around Brendon; anger stirred in Zoe’s chest.

“Hey, Brendon.” The girl said happily, “Wassup?”

“Connie, hi.” Brendon turned to her, “We were just getting some junk food. This is my friend Zoe, she’s new at Burroughs.”

When Connie turned and reached to greet her, Zoe’s reactions were all instinct, the animal taking over. Without thinking about it, she bared her teeth and growled savagely at Connie, leaning over the table menacingly. Connie jumped back, her eyes and backed off, startled and scared by Zoe’s growls.

“Well . . . I’ll leave you two . . .” She turned around and quickly moved away.

Zoe felt a surge of satisfaction: A satisfaction that faded when she looked at Brendon and saw him glaring at her angrily.

“Why the hell did you do that?” He demanded.

Zoe was flustered, she had no real explanation, “I don’t know . . . I just felt . . .”

“That was rude, Zoe!” He said sourly, glancing down at his food, no longer wanting to look at her.

Zoe glanced down at her plate as well, humiliated and despairing. She had just screwed up big time, and now Brendon probably hated her for it. She thought about just getting up and leaving, running out of the restaurant and avoiding Brendon for the rest of her life. But no, she didn’t want to do that, she’d worked to hard to re enter human society, and she had to deal with this like a human would.

She looked back at Brendon, “You’re right, that was rude.”

She stood and made a quick deliberate walk over to Connie, who turned around and gasped in fear as she saw Zoe coming. Zoe still felt a slight exhilaration from the fact that Connie feared and cowered from her, but she shoved it aside: That wasn’t what she wanted. She stood in front of Connie and bowed her head a little.

“That was rude of me.” She said, “I’m sorry for growling at you like that.”

Connie relaxed a little but still eyed Zoe with a little trepidation.

Timidly, she asked, “You’re one of the . . .”

“The Farrell twins.” Zoe finished for her, “Yeah, I know. It’s obvious. I’m sorry.”

“Why’d you growl at me like that anyways?” Connie asked, relaxing a little more, starting to look at Zoe with a bit of interest.

“I don’t know.” Zoe admitted, “I felt . . . threatened by you, for some reason. It was all instinct.”

Connie looked at Zoe, and then looked over at where Brendon was seated. She looked back and forth between them; a knowing smile spreading across her face. She leaned in closer to Zoe and lowered her voice so Brendon couldn’t hear.

“I think I know why you felt threatened.” Connie said, with a sly glance at Brendon.

Zoe followed her gaze and then instantly got what she meant. She flushed a deep crimson color and glanced at the floor. God, was her attraction to Brendon so plainly obvious to everyone? How embarrassing!

“I have a boyfriend of my own,” Connie assured her, “And me and Brendon are just friends.”

Zoe nodded, still feeling her face get hot.

Connie went on, “And, he’s available.”

Zoe’s eyes lit up at that news; she hoped it wasn’t too noticeable, but from the glint in Connie’s eyes, it looked like it was.

“He broke up with Mindy Grasper a month ago,” Connie informed her conspiratorially, “And he hasn’t been seeing anyone else since. So get your feral butt back over there and start flirting for crissakes.”

Dropping her eyes to the floor, Zoe said, “I . . . don’t know how.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend before?” Connie asked her.

A memory of the male wolves sniffing her in places she didn’t want them too came almost comically to mind. Every time they’d done that, Zoe had run or growled at them.

“No . . . not at all.” Zoe admitted.

“Well then,” Connie put a friendly arm around Zoe’s shoulders, “Let’s get you back over there, because the love doctor is about the pay a house call.”

That sounded, even to Zoe, like the corniest thing you could say. But she followed Connie eagerly. Connie took the seat opposite Brendon and motioned for Zoe to take the seat next to him. She gladly did so, pushing her chair a little closer to him as innocently looking as she could. They began chatting, and Connie skillfully continued to steer the conversation towards Zoe, carefully setting up her most interesting attributes. Zoe was particularly grateful to her. Especially when Brendon began to take a bit more of an interest in her. She suddenly found herself babbling away, describing her whole unusual life to him, and he seemed to listen with rapt attention.

As the conversation continued, Chloe entered the restaurant flanked by Jenson and Phoebe. Out of sheer habit, Zoe raised her hand and let out a few quick yips in her sister’s direction. Chloe answered in kind, drawing stares to both of them from the rest of the place. Their friends simply chuckled, and the three newcomers slid into their seats at the table.

Not a lot of introductions were necessary, but Zoe did it anyways out of politeness. She exchanged a glance with Chloe when she shook Brendon’s hand: The kind of wordless communication that even the closes sisters never had, a result of the two of them spending eight years with no verbal language. Zoe’s look said it all; “Mine”, Chloe shot her a glance that said “I know”. With that little bit of business out of the way, they group began to talk.

It was kind of a strange talk, Zoe noticed that right away. Although Brendon and Connie made no objection to Jenson and Phoebe’s presence, she noticed that they tended not to speak to them at all, directing all of their conversation to herself and her sister. Zoe had heard of school cliques on TV, of course, but she hadn’t realized they were so regimented. It seemed almost surreal, since Brendon and Connie seemed so nice, yet they had trouble bringing themselves to speak to anyone outside their clique. Zoe wondered if she’d be ostracized any more by refusing to conform to the established groups.

And then, sudden, the thought was completely beside the point.

As the talk and laughter continued, the hair on the back of Chloe’s neck stood up. She turned and glanced and saw an unsavory looking man enter through the doors. It was the exact same creepy man she’d seen before, and she still got a bad felling from him. She inhaled the air as he got closer, trying to pick up his scent and whatever it was that bothered her so much about him. She noticed her sister doing the same. She inhaled and drew in the smell of sweat, motor oil, strong alcohol that smelled almost antiseptic, and something else . . . some strange scent that was familiar, yet she couldn’t place it.

She let her nostrils flare, sniffing the air a little, trying to put her finger on what she was smell. She let her mind travel back, trying to see what memories the scent stirred in her. Too late for her to do anything, the image of her mother, her pack mother, lying dead from a bullet wound rose in her mind; and to her horror, she knew where she’d smelled that scent before.

It was gunpowder. The man was carrying a gun.

Zoe realized it too, but too late to react. The man opened up his jacked a pulled out a large automatic pistol, a huge and weathered weapon that he brandished randomly around at the suddenly terrified patrons of Mac Burgers. His glazed eyes twitched a little as he aimed it threateningly.

“Alright, motherfuckers!” He bellowed. This is a fuck’n robbery! Nobody move a fuck’n muscle or I’ll put a motherfuck’n bullet right between your fuck’n eyes! Got that!”

Crazily, Zoe noticed that he seemed to use the word ‘fuck’ a lot as if he somehow thought it gave the rest of his sentence more power.

Everyone put their hands up in shock. They eyed the half crazed new stranger with fear as he moved his gun from person to person. Zoe stared at the gun, she hated the thing, hated it with gut wrenching passion. As far as she was concerned, it was the ugliest thing on the face of the planet. Her heart pounded in her chest, mostly from fear, but a streak of burning anger was welling up inside her.

A tall black man in his mid 50s came around the counter, with his hands raised high. He spoke with an understandable tremble in his voice.

“I’m the manager.” He said, “We don’t want any trouble. Just take what you want, and no one will stop you.”

With a spastic twitch of his face the gun man screamed, “Don’t try to fool me, n . . .”

The racial epitaph was drowned out by the sound of the gun firing. The loud blast filled the restaurant, causing everyone to flinch. People screamed as the bullet tore into the manager’s shoulder. A wide spray of blood gushed from the wound and he was violently thrown to floor, screaming in pain and clutching the gaping injury. The suddenly not so blasé register jockey ran around the counter and held onto her boss, tearing a part of her shirt off and holding it against the wound, her eyes wide with terror.

Cries and moans of fear came from all corners of the restaurant. Zoe clapped hands over her ears and the sound of the gun brought back horrible memories flooding through her brain. The loud explosive crack of gunfire, her mother’s agonized yelps, and her body collapsing to the ground, dead with her very life blood seeping from her body. Zoe’s lips trembled at the memory, and she could see a similar reaction from her sister and knew she was feeling the same.

Brendon muttered, “Jesus. He’s crazy.”

And, unfortunately, the gun man heard him.

Spinning around, he japed the muzzle of the gun a few inches from his face. He man stared at him with wild, unhinged eyes, a slight tremble in the hand that held the pistol. Suddenly Brendon found himself staring down the barrel of the gun so close that he actually thought for a second that he could see the bullet inside. He swallowed hard, eyeing the threatening weapon with his mouth going dry. Icy prickles of fear climbing though his belly.

“You got something to say, funny boy?” The gun man growled.

Unable to speak, Brendon just shook his head.

Zoe stared at the scene, horror flooding her. It was happening again, all over again: A stranger, armed with a gun, ready to kill someone she cared about. Anger began to surge in her; how dare they do this to her, take the people who were important to her. A horrible thought occurred to her; what if the gunman shot her sister as well? The possibility of that loss was almost more then her senses could bear. Fear flared in her chest, and then was brutally shoved aside by pure animalistic anger.

No! This would NOT happen again!

Instinct took over, the instinct to defend her pack. She clenched her jaw tight and let out a low, menacing growl, threateningly baring her teeth at the gun man, who was too focused on Brendon to notice. The others at the table, except for Chloe, watched her with surprise. The growl intensified, turning into a savage, angry snarl that reeked of threatened violence. The kind of thing you did in the pack when the situation was kill or be killed.

In an instant, the veneer of civilization was stripped away, and Zoe was an animal again. Pure naked fury tore at her insides; all at once, she was primal, and savage, and of the wild. Once more the jungle called out to her heart, telling her to fight, and to defend.

With a ferocious howl, Zoe leapt over the table on all fours, sinking her teeth deep into the gunman’s hand before he had a chance to react. Blood flowed and she twisted her head, sawing into the flesh of the man’s arm. The sweet coppery taste filled Zoe’s mouth, and elation flowed in her briefly: First blood was hers. She bit her teeth down into his skin, feeling the bone scrape against her teeth.

The gun man screamed in pain and surprise and yanked back, dropping the gun in the process. It hit the ground and slide away, spinning on the tiles away form them. He cried out, punching Zoe in the side, trying to dislodge her, but Zoe held on, biting hard and thrashing her head, his blood spraying across her lips.

“Get the fuck off me, you fuck’n freak!” He screamed, trying to push Zoe off as he staggered backwards.

Just as soon as he thought he’d dislodged her, he eyes widened as he turned just in time to see Chloe running at him on all fours to defend her sister. She growled savagely and leapt at him with feral fury, snarling in a killing anger. Since he was big, Chloe went for his legs, sinking her teeth into the meat just above his knee cap, tearing at it with such ferocity that she tore though the material of his pants quickly and sank her teeth into the soft skin underneath, drawing a geyser of blood that coated her lips. Her skirt flew up in the process, exposing her underwear, but she paid it no heed.

The gun man delivered a panicked kick to Chloe’s mid section. She yelped in pain, but held on. Hearing her sister’s cry, Zoe renewed her attack; snarling viciously and leaping on all fours at his neck, sinking her teeth into his shoulder. They had now driven him back almost to the counter. He staggered back and fell to the floor, scrambling back away from the savage twins.

As he looked, the twins paced back and forth on all fours in front of him, moving up and back, their teeth clenched and bared in savagery, growling like the animals that they were deep down. He stared at them in wild incomprehension: The two girls almost seemed to have become wolves, their eyes and faces betraying no hint of the humanity they had displayed when he’d walked in. They moved up and down, warily, their eyes as alert and their bodies as tense as hyenas. He saw his gun lying on the floor under one of the tables, and he risked a lunge for it.

Zoe reacted first, running at him at lightening speeds and biting his cheek with a terrific force, pushing him back to the floor, and on his back. Putting her hands on his chest, she looked him in the face, growling in anger.

The man grabbed with both hands and shoved Zoe off of him, throwing her across the room with all his might. Zoe slammed hard into the wall, pain shooting through her body as her back his the glass display case. Glass shattered, a few shards biting into her back, as she hit and fell to the ground with an agonizing thud, the old baseball bats clattering to the floor next to her. She pushed her self back up on her hands and knees, growling with feral wrath in pain and anger. She was all animal, all instinct now. As wild as the wolves that had raised her once again.

But then, the human side of her mind made itself known, and she got an idea.

The gun man pushed away from Chloe and tried to run towards his gun. Chloe leapt at him and bit his hand hard, holding like a vice and pulling him back wards, her wild eyes seething with rage. The man screamed, now in a complete panic: What the hell were these girls? What was wrong with them?

“Stop it, you fuck’n freaks!” He screamed, “Fight me like a human being!”

He turned just in time to see Zoe, standing back on two feet, swinging one of the bats at him with all the force of a major league slugger. He had no time to avoid it; Zoe slammed the bat into his head in an agonizing homerun hit that would have made Barry Bonds proud. There was a painful whack and the man staggered back, dazed.

Zoe picked up the other bat and tossed it to her sister, “Chloe!”

Chloe grabbed the bat and was on two feet in a second. In tandem, both sisters preceded to delivery a series of powerful blows all over the gun man’s body. The man quickly got his wish: The twins finished him off like a pair of humans, pounding on him with the bats like he was a piñata. The last thing the gun man saw before he finally lost consciousness was the wooden side of Zoe’s bat, with a scrawled signature on the side that read, “Babe Ruth, 1932 World Series”. And then, it was all blackness.

He collapsed, unconscious, as Zoe and Chloe howled in victory.

The twins stood in front of the felled form of their foe, breathing heavily, and sweat glistening off their bodies. As they slowly came down, the adrenaline surge fading, they looked at each other.

Chloe curled her lip, “I think we just blew it with human behavior.”

Zoe nodded, starting to turn red. If they hadn’t been afraid of them before, everyone in this place would be sure to fear them now. They both stood there, their backs to the rest of the patrons, afraid to turn around. They’d really blown it: In the heat of the moment, they’d reverted to their old feral animal selves. Zoe felt her stomach lurch; now they would be hated and ostracized by everyone.

Slowly, and meekly, Zoe turned around, peering at the faces of the other humans. They stared at them with amazed expressions.

And then, one by one, they all began to clap.

The applause soon filled them room, and the twins looked at each other in surprise. People cheered and whooped; and the twins realized that they were wrong about what every thought of them: It looked like they were now heroes. The both smiled, giggling a little to each other; this wasn’t what they’d expected.

Realizing that she’d already made a spectacle of herself, Zoe obeyed one last bit of instinct. She ran up to Brendon who was clapping with the rest, a large smile on his face, and kissed him full on the mouth, pulling him close to her. Their lips met and Zoe felt like she would melt into his arms as they slipped around her. Her heart beat hard in her chest, it was the first real kiss she’d ever had.

The applause got even louder.



The police came and took the crazy gunman away and began to get statements from everyone. The cops, as instantly judgmental as always, started talking about arresting Zoe and Chloe as well as soon as they found out how they’d saved the day. After all, three arrests is a better collar then one. Social workers were called and suddenly the Farrell Twins found themselves possibly faced with the prospect of being carted off to the loony bin.

Despite the protests from the people they’d saved, the cops became more and more agitated at the idea of leaving the two ‘wild girls’ walking around free. It was only the timely arrival of their uncle and aunt that saved them from the lock up. A lot of arguing and some greasing of the wheels, and finally the twins were allowed to leave peacefully. They said good bye to everyone, and Zoe snuck another kiss from Brendon.

As they walked to the car, Uncle Percy didn’t look too happy.

“That was a very stupid thing you did back there.” He said, “Reverting to animals like that, in front of everyone. You could have been killed, do you realize that? What if he hadn’t dropped the gun? What if you’d been shot?”

“We’re sorry.” The Twins said.

“You’d be even sorrier of you were dead.” Uncle Percy said, “You’re both smart girls, what could have possessed you to do something so incredibly dim-witted?”

“It was the gun,” Zoe said meekly, “It made me think of . . .”

She trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud. She looked down at the ground.

Chloe spoke up, “That asshole had . . .”

“Language!” Aunt Misty admonished her.

Chloe continued “. . . had already shot the manager. I think he would have just shot us anyways, even if we hadn’t jumped him.”

Aunt Misty replied, “But did you have to attack him like a couple of mangy dogs?”

“We acted on instinct.” Zoe said, “We’re sorry.”

Uncle Percy sighed, “Well, the important thing is you’re both all right.”

Suddenly, Chloe’s ears perked up as she heard foot steps running up behind them. Her sister had noticed them too, and turned to look at who was coming. It turned out to be Miss Fench, who ran up to them quickly.

Miss Fench said, “I sorry, I wanted to catch you too before you left, and those friggin cops wouldn’t let me go.”

She paused a second and then put her hands on each of The Twin’s shoulders, “First, thank you so much for what you did back that. Thanks for saving our asses.”

“Language!” Aunt Misty bizarrely admonished the teacher.

“Grow up.” Miss Fench admonished her back.

She then turned back to Zoe and Chloe and spoke, “I was really impressed with the way you handled that guy, and especially the way you swung those baseball bats. The two of you have some powerful arms on you.”

Miss Fench smiled, a hopeful look on her face, “Do you girls like softball?”