"Apparently women are more desirous of becoming werwolves than men, more women than men having acquired the property of werwolfery through their own act. In the case of women candidates for this evil property, the inspiring motive is almost always one of revenge, sometimes on a faithless lover, but more often on another woman; and when once women metamorphose thus, their craving for human flesh is simply insatiable - in fact, they are far more cruel and daring, and much more to be dreaded than male werwolves." - Elliott O'Donnell, from a 1912 monograph entitled Werwolves

I frown, and read on in hopes of coming across some redeeming opinion regarding my condition. Am I, as both a woman and a werewolf, expected to be more cruel, more bloodthirsty than any man-beast? Silence certainly seems ambiguous about the idea. She lies content but listening upon my psyche; I search inside her for some modicum of regret, any urge to seek repentance, but she is as stone. The concepts are meaningless to the animal and so the responsiblity must fall to me to decide for us. The wolf is powerful, perhaps more so through her lack of compassion; a distant piece of myself finds something to envy in that. How simple life could be if I were to simply forgive myself of my humanity, indulge in the flesh of men, women, and even children without a second thought because there are none needed when seeking to satisfy the basics, to reinforce the baseline of primality so that we won't fall through and starve into oblivion. She is indifferent when I present to her images of other animals - deer, bear, dog, elk, etc. I get the impression that forbidden fruit is always sweeter. There is something deeply satisfying about the rending of human flesh, especially Men, the Enemy, the Prey, the Defiler. Deer are for sustenance, Men are for survival. To her, Men are not people, but a food, HER food; cat eats mouse, dog eats cat, wolf eats man. I think on this carefully, wondering if there is some way I cannot spin this around to my own benefit, perhaps to that of my father's, but then I realize I am scared. The wolf feels so big in my mind, her love like a seething volcano. She promises to protect us, protect The Body, the sacred territory in which we both thrive simultaneously, but there is no humanity in her word, no sense of compassion or restraint, only a passionate excuse for her Hunger. Son raison d'etre. And I know the moment I set her free, the world will end. - Autumn Isen in The Monster of Amber Peace, Art and Writing Copyrighted to Cassandra Aponte 2013

....This seems a lot less melodramatic when I read it along with everything else I've written. >.> I'm really not sure how to play up Autumn's struggle without it sounding a bit over-the-top anyway.

Flipped version here -> http://teknicolortiger.deviantart.com/art/AutumnNoveaufinalflip-350380584