Hvíta Úlfur

"Pabbi, I can't believe you did this." Sigrún stared at the immense list of new students for the Cristalis Institute of Wizardry sitting on her father's desk.

"Sigrún, you know there isn't enough room at the other schools. Where are they going to go?" The Skólastjóri sighed at his daughter.

"I don't care, I don't want foreigners at Cristalis. I've read how they treat my kind, like it was my fault the varúlfur bit me!"

Stefan arched his brow in frustration. "Listen, minn dóttir, would I let you be persecuted?

Sigrún stared at the floor and shook her head no.

"Then why are you angry? I am the Skólastjóri of the school. I am in charge. I would not let them do anything to you."

Sigrún looked back up to her father with disappointment in her eyes. "You may be in charge at Cristalis, but you cannot change what people believe, no matter how much you teach them the truth. Pabbi, they will find out what I am, and things will not be good for me."

Stefan sunk into his chair and placed his head in his hands as Sigrún left his office, slamming the door on her way out.

She ran up the oak stairs and into her bedroom, kicked on the Muggle stereo, and fell onto the bed to bury her face in the pillow. He doesn't understand. He's never dealt with the stares, the mocking. She remembered back to the books she'd read about the werewolves after she'd been bitten...

The Exorcism of Bill Ramsey, the Werewolf of London: He then took Bill's head firmly in his hands and ordered the werewolf to be banished forever. Bill started thrashing around in his chair, he didn't know it yet, but he was fighting the demon for the control of his body and soul. Bill continued to shake and writhe uncontrollably, he was having an attack, the worst he'd ever known. He felt his lips pull back from his teeth felt his hands become claws, and the unmistakable urge to attack the bishop. And he did so. His hands reached up and attempted to rip open the Bishop's face. Two of the burly policemen jumped up to grab Bill, but the Bishop bravely ordered them back to their seats. The bishop then bought a crucifix out from somewhere inside his religious garments, and pushed the cross into Bill's face. Bill, or more properly, the werewolf inside him, went berserk. He came up from his chair snarling and growling and grasping at the Bishop. This time the Bishop had no choice but to retreat beyond the altar gate. Bill, spittle flying from his mouth, eyes wild, began to rush through the gate for the Bishop. But the priest stood absolutely still now, holding his cross up once again and beginning to speak in Latin....

Sigrún scoffed at the memory of reading this case. They treated it like a disease, like it was an evil being inside that nothing could control. Well it wasn't.

She left the memory and the song on the radio sunk into her head, an American song. She liked music of othr cultures. For a moment, Sigrún forgot about her problems and let her body violently shift and contort to the heavy sound of Metallica:

Bright is the moon high in starlight

Chill is the air cold as steel tonight

We shift

Call of the wild

Fear in your eyes

It's later than you realized

With her long blonde hair covering her eyes, flying every way like a mane, she caught a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror. It entranced her, that mane of hair flying, she was hunched over, her hands curled like giant paws, out of breath, her winded lungs sounding like low growls as the air left her body. So seek the wolf in thyself...

"Sigrún?" Her father's voice and a knock on the door snapped her out of the wolfish trance. "May I come in?"

Sigrún shook her head and smoothed her hair down. "Yes, Pabbi." She stood up straight and turned off the stereo, which was on a stand next to the mirror. "What do you want?"

Stefan entered and stood behind his daughter, who was still staring at herself in the mirror. He calmly placed a hand on her shoulder, and looked at her through the reflection. She, however, kept looking straight ahead at her features, already beginning to appear more wolfish. The full moon was to arrive in two days. The rhythm of the song still pounded in her head. So seek the wolf in thyself...

&ldo;Sigrún, they don't have to know about Hvíta. We can keep that a secret."

"How?" Her voice was hollow and melancholy, almost a hoarse growl rather than a question. She continued to stare at herself through the mirror.

"Well, there are plenty of rooms for you in the lower parts of the school that never get used...that is, if you don't want to take the Wolfsbane Potion."

"You know how sick the drykkur makes me..."

"I know, minn dóttir, but with all the people who might be around. I fear not only for everyone's safety," Stefan took Sigrún by both shoulders and gently turned her to face him, "especially yours. You'd have the safety of my office at Cristalis, and you'd easily be able to cover why you come to my office rather than an abandoned room in the caverns of the school."

"Very well, Pabbi. I will try." She embraced hightly, as if more for safety than comfort.

"Everything will be fine, you got that?" Stefan sighed as he held his daughter close.