It was a trap; like the stealth of a feral jungle cat, they crept up on me at my weakest. I was a puzzle. They scratched at the surface, to get to the depths of me, to know why I was different.
We were a pack and our weakest was when we fell into deep sleep. Mostly, it was the young ones that slept more often than the adults. An adult could go for a week without sleeping, making our kind the most dangerous in the jungle.
We were always alert, always on the move. Nothing could get by us. Our pack was the strongest in the Siskiyou forest, Oregon.
I was a stray adopted by our alpha after he found me wounded and dying on the roadside beside my murdered parents.
It was taboo to be seen in our form by humans. Whoever hurt my parents wanted them seen. Our alpha cleaned up the scene and tried to track the trail and scent of the killers. It was like they vanished into thin air.
I became a part of the powerful pack; but an enigma because I was latent. When my peers turned on their fifteenth birthday on full moon nights, I did not. Yet, I was exceptionally stronger and faster.
There were whispers, uncomfortable ones, especially from the elders about me. They saw my existence as a stain on their power status in Oregon, like a disability.
Members of other packs visit just to catch a glimpse of the latent one. Latency was very rare among our kind.
But the Alpha's word and decision were law—I was a member of their pack.
An incongruous few, including a close elder I called uncle, in the pack caught me at my weakest.
At the age of eighteen, I slept every three or four days. Unlike my peers who had the tattoo and could turn at will, not necessarily on a full moon. They slept every two days.
My uncle ran me ragged for four days on different errands for him around the Siskiyou jungle. To catch prey, ensure your bait was eye-catching.
He promised me a new laptop in exchange. I was improving my computer programming skills and learning to code. The laptop was a good bait, a great one.
After my return from one of our neighbouring packs on the fourth day, my body begged to sleep but my inner animal was restless.
A foreboding.
It growled, warning me not to lie down. I appealed to it that my strength was at its lowest and I needed the rest or I would crash, like a computer system.
It growled and crawled against my skin, leading to a breakout of red blotches. It warned but its anxiety only ensured my body broke down further.
I was asleep within minutes of getting into my room, my inner animal's whimpers the last sound that faded with me into the darkness.
Like a slithering snake, a fearsome stranger curled around me in the depth of darkness, a realm of nothingness. Its eyes bored into me, wearing me down and making it difficult to move. I tried.
I was powerless against it and so was my inner animal.
"What are you?" I whispered with effort, weakness like tiny straps circulating my limbs and tethering me to the earth.
"Tòngkǔ" was the word I heard.
I shivered in fear, remembering the folklore that our race possessed the Tòngkǔ, a figurine imbued with magical powers to force a member of the pack to turn if he refused to do so voluntarily. It was a tool used to enforce obedience many centuries ago. But it had gone missing for so long that it became a myth, one to scare children with.
Then it strode on all fours, walking in circles around me, purring like a cat. Every purr needled me with fear because I was stuck in a realm where I was powerless.
My inner animal stared at me, pain and fear etched in its eyes, my eyes.
Who would dare to do this to me? The thought, like a whisper from the edge of the horizon, rose silently just as a roar began to build like hot lava from the pit of my stomach.
The Tòngkǔ's eyes widened in shock. "Impossible," it whispered, its voice grating on my nerves.
My throat and mouth moved of their own accord as a deep roar emerged, shaking the foundations of the realm of nothingness. The grounds cracked open, dark crevices appear pulling the Tòngkǔ into the fiery depths.
I gave a loud gasp and sat up straight on my bed, drenched in sweat.
There was a small gathering in my room. My pack. Shock and respect were written all over their faces.
A sharp, searing pain on the left side of my chest made me wince. I looked down. It was a tattoo, not like my peers' tattoo, but a smaller version of our Alpha's.
I glanced up.
Our alpha, his silver staff in his strong, big hands gave me an intense look before he arched a brow. I nodded, silently stating I was alright.
On the floor beside my bed were my uncle and two elders held down by two of the Pack's sentinels. The Tòngkǔ figurine was shattered in pieces beside them.
Everything made sense.
The practices of the old ways were unacceptable in our race. No one should be forced to be what they were not. Our Alpha respected that and promised the appropriate punishment to the incongruous few.
My inner animal scratched against my skin in excitement.
It was a full moon. My friends invited me for a run and I dressed up. As they howled, transforming into gigantic, hairy werewolves, the grounds trembled beneath their speed. Laughing, I led them in the race with a howl that sounded like a roar. It sent the animals in the forest, who usually accompanied us, scurrying into their hiding places.
I was the first alpha-to-be of my kind to be latent.
I had an arduous journey before me. The incongruous few would not be the last to challenge my existence and status.