It was exactly four years ago when my father died.
Believe me, reader, I'd have liked to forget that day because my father's death was too gruesome and certainly no tonic for the soul, but my pack won't let me forget it. Ever.
Especially my brother, Jeremy.
I should probably introduce myself before I delve any deeper into my sad sad tale, right?
Well, my name is Haven, and I have lived my entire life in the Redwood Pack.
I have long hair, black as night, and as for my height, I am not sure, but I can say I am average.
And my body is not exactly athletic. Usually, werewolves are slender and fit because of the constant shifting and training, but I don't get out of the house unless I have to work. The reason why is because I am not popular. I haven't shifted in forever, let alone train, and I gained those extra kilos as a result, but I love the way I look. Makes for a fresh change considering I am surrounded by females with bodies that look like they haven't eaten in days, and yes, I like to feel good about myself because I am a rebel. Doesn't matter how much I weigh because I have womanly curves in the right places, and a face that many would die for, especially that I don't have much to do all day because everyone avoids the hell out of me.
That might be because of the incident that happened on the first day I shifted, or it could be because I am mute.