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Last week’s post introduced Tala, a young, half-feral werewolf to the Mahon family.
Tala, who had been running with a rural, fundamentalist pack, was confused by a family in which a werewolf (Bryan), a weretiger (Jackie), and a wereduck (Our Hero and POV character Tom) were raised by a werebear and . . . whatever Mrs. Mahon might be.
After several pages, she’s still having trouble adjusting, especially to the necessity of hiding in plain sight from a species she’s been taught to think of as inferior.
Turner, Tom’s human friend, is glad to help out.
“I don’t need to hide from humans—humans are weak and useless.”
“I’d be offended,” Turner said, mildly, “but my weak and useless ass has put a number of your kind in the ground—purely in self-defense, by the way.”
“Generalities about a whole species are pointless,” I said, “and silver bullets are a great leveler.”
“Silver is cheating! If you didn’t have that—“
“If you didn’t have your claws and your teeth and your quicktime healing, you’d be a tool-user, too.” Turner smiled, friendly as you please. “Survival isn’t cheating, little girl,” he told her. “You should know that by now.”
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I think I’ve mentioned this before, but “fundamentalism” in werewolves—at least in this particular pack—has little to do with religion and a lot to do with behaving as much like “natural wolves” as possible, as judged by werewolves who have never met a wolf in their lives but have fallen for the rhetoric of a would-be Old School Alpha dominant.
And how I started out writing a joke story about a wereduck and ended up with a socio-thinkpiece, I don’t know . . .
Earful of Cider 