There are a few errors concerning the legends and myths surrounding werewolves. Like any history; it can be distorted over time and what is a particular history for one, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the same for the next.
So, very quickly, the main points to note are that silver bullets will kill a werewolf as much as decapitation has the same result.
Two, to change into a werewolf, you don’t need a full moon, but apparently, according to those legends and myths again, you do. No, it isn’t necessary, but a full moon does add to the effect. There are those werewolves that can and do change at will and some have even spent several years as a full blown wolf, here of course, is the danger that the longer one spends as a werewolf, the less of the human remains.
Now that we’ve cleared that up, we can get on…

The two goats that are near the chain link fence suddenly stop eating the grass and stare at the car as it slowly drives passed. Their eyes narrow and sense that something is among them and it’s not alone.
The sheep, on the other hand, just carry on as though nothing much is going to happen, but goats are that much more smarter than sheep anyway.
The other goats keep themselves down at the far end of the field, completely non-fussed about anything except eating and making a bloody noise.
Oh well…
Terri parks her car, next to her mum’s black BMW, and surprised that it’s not in the garage as it usually is.
Mum appears by the front door, looking her usual elegant self. A plain white knee length dress and bare feet and tanned skin, mum smiles and looks reasonably calm.
Terri is out of her car fairly quickly, then takes her bag from the boot.
‘Hello darling, you could have called.’
‘Yeah, I could.’
Mum glances down at the ground and then back up at Terri again, ‘There is a full moon tonight.’
‘Off hunting again, are you?’
Mum nods and steps back inside the house.

Terri drops her bag near the door, mum has made her way into the kitchen, an atmosphere in the house already and she’s only just got here. ‘We need to talk.’
Mum moves towards the kettle, ’Yes, I suppose we should.’
Terri stands by the worktop, arms across her chest, ’Not about my wedding, Mum.’
‘About number seven, I suppose?’
Terri nods and mum gestures at the chairs arranged around the large table, sitting and waiting now, not an easy thing to do.
‘I should have said something, but I didn’t really know what to say and how you would react.’
‘Well, this is my reaction. I’m here Mum, and I don’t want to be.’
Mum turns from the kettle, ‘Then why? Why didn’t you just phone and this could have been dealt with that way.’
The kettle clicks off.
‘Why’d you sell it?’
Mum shrugs, ‘That was only an option. If a buyer came along, then I told Martin to use his best judgement on it.’
‘That painting was never meant to be seen, you bloody know that so why did you let it out?’
‘It’s just a painting, Terri. Seven of seven. A painting and that’s all it ever will be.’
‘Then why make that promise, Mum. What was the point of making all that fuss over it and then go off and sell the damn thing?’
Mum smiles and takes milk from the fridge, ’Are you scared of it?’
‘The painting? Yeah, I am. It’ll tell them who we are and then what, we spend the rest of our lives running and hiding?’
‘The one I really feel sorry for is Jasmine. She’s not like us. This could hurt her even more.’
Terri laughs, ‘Like she’s not been hurt enough already? If she finds out, it won’t be the person who bought seven that we’ll have to worry about.’
Mum stands near the kettle, a far away look and a soft breath, ‘I don’t know the buyer. I never thought…’
‘Yeah, well, it’s out there now, so I guess we’re in trouble.’
Mum pours the freshly boiled water into the mugs, ‘So what do you intend to do?’
‘I’ll go back tomorrow and pay Martin a visit. Not as me though, I need to get that painting back.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘No. You’d better stay here, because if this goes wrong, then Jasmine will need somewhere to hide.’
Mum nods and adds the milk.

Her left eye remains a deep metallic blue, as if it reflects a different universe inside. A soft growl from her as she stands at the top of the stairs, Celia still retains her human side, even like this, but the pull of the hunt so strong.
Terri watches her from her bedroom door, seeing her mum’s fabulously soft silver grey fur, feeling the change in herself building, slight pains in her fingers and toes.
The growl from her mum is an ask; come hunting with me.
Terri shakes her head, as her mum gracefully descends the stairs.
Lying on her bed and looking at her fingers, feeling her own change, it is there, just waiting, desperate to be free.
Terri closes her eyes and sees her alongside her mum, enjoying the chase and the snap of those powerful jaws and teeth that tear and render.
The sheep and goats are safe from her tonight, but it isn’t her they have to consider, another time then…

The clear up takes a little time. Terri with a wheelbarrow and mum with a shovel.
The goats that mum didn’t kill eye them with suspicion.
The sheep, well, they just carry on doing what sheep normally do, showing no signs of the bloodbath that took place last night.
It would be something of a surprise to see the sheep in deck chairs reading the newspapers, but they have other things occupying their little minds.
Grass being the primary thing here.

London…

A breakfast of ‘special K’, topped with thick slices of banana and set up with a powerfully strong black coffee, two slices of toast, some sort of low far spread, which only has a colour and lacks any kind of taste.
Milk is of the full fat variety, Jasmine doesn’t like milk that you can see through. She doesn’t class that as milk.
Still wondering if Terri will call, or even a call from mum, but as of yet, neither event has happened, just give it a little more time.
The laptop sits on the table, set up to display the stock movements from yesterday and AHP still hasn’t got the good grace to just kick the bucket.
Well, there’s always hope. Jasmine had tried so very hard to not simply write this off, but the evidence would suggest she give it up and go and do something else.
A wry smile; the seven figure package that has been delivered sits on her sofa and waits.
It won’t be long…

Soft music plays from speakers hidden in the ceiling and walls. Martin Collier slowly walks around the exhibition, two paintings by Elizabeth have been sold, in addition to Joel Hasford’s and an enquiry about one of Savini’s.
The music perhaps, just supplies an ambience to the place, music to soothe the savage beast and at that thought, Terri Hasford closes the door behind her.
In a blink of his eyes, she’s right in front of him.
‘We need to talk.’ Her voice sounds flat and as if there’s an anger there, subtle, but barely hidden.
Martin smiles at her, ‘About what?’
A slight movement of her head and he has just asked a stupid question, ‘Do I really need to spell it out?’ Clear anger here now.
Martin steps back, she follows, ‘No…um…sorry.’
‘Your office would be best. I don’t want to do this here.’
Plush would describe his office best, and softly lit too. He takes his seat, perhaps in some vain hope that it’ll provide some form of protection.
Terri closes his door, dropping her bag and standing by his desk, ’I’m not interested in how much you got for the painting, but I do need to know who bought it.’
‘I told you, it was private. I can’t.’
‘Yes you can. Don’t mess me about, Martin, I just want it back.’
Her eyes show a change from their normal soft blue to a deep honey colour, irises surrounded by a peculiar bright yellow, her nostrils flare and tingling in her fingers and toes.
Martin must weigh in about sixteen stone, but the way Terri slams him up against the wall is if he weighs no more than a bag of sugar, fingers tighten around his throat and show no signs of relaxing.
Struggling to breathe and stunned that she’d moved so fast, Martin’s bladder lets go.
Terri looks down at the spreading puddle, ’Talk to me…’ A deep rumbling sound in her voice that doesn’t change pitch.
The reality of what Martin can see happening, her lower jaw extending, making a cracking sound that sounds so sharp in his office, and that’s before he sees her teeth…

A stroke of luck that Martin feinted. This could have gone one of two ways and neither of them are particularly pleasant, but anyway…
Terri having not quite completed the change, although what she’d showed him was more than enough, plus the human voice in her head begged her not to kill him, she’d listened and just simply dropped him.

So, here we are then. A new scenario, not one that Terri had expected, but now that the cat is well and truly out of the bag, it’s where she goes from here.
Jasmine is all too aware of who and what she and mum are. A problem?
Perhaps, but this is a bit more than getting stuck on a bloody crossword puzzle.
How this has never affected Jasmine hasn’t ever been explained and it won’t here, it’ll only get in the way.
Dad, mum and Terri are all one and the same; ie, perfectly normal to look at, you’d never expect that the three of them all play the same game. They hide.
Jasmine, is the real deal. Completely unaffected by what afflicts her younger sister and although there had been some suspicions, nothing concrete until now.
Always the way it goes; you can’t hide forever.
So, what does she do?
Leaving Martin aside for the minute, he couldn’t explain anything anyway. There isn’t anyone he could tell, they’d lock him up and throw away the key.
Jasmine could be dangerous.
A sudden and very serious thought.
Maybe Jasmine isn’t the one who should run.
Terri looks at her reflection in the mirror. Maybe, she’s not wrong.

What if..?
Tomorrow starts looking so different…