Thursday, November 27, 2008
I met her in an attic room with a grubby, unmade bed. She looked pathetic, uncertain what was happening to her and wary of everyone who came near. Her howls of rage quickly subsided after the tranquiliser dart, and I transferred her to one on the cells in the Manor dungeons.
It took weeks of feeding her to gain her trust but it was worth it for the smile when I entered the room. Within six months I had introduced her to the concept of clothing and sociability. Within a year she was talking. At a pre-school level and five years below her physical age, true, but what can you do? I had to rescue her from her parents.
They had no idea how to raise a werewolf cub.