This story is a work of fiction solely from the twisted mind of Chromex. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters are of at least 18 years of age unless otherwise specifically mentioned. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or total, without the author's permission.
*****
My name is Watcher and I am a werewolf. Now I know it sounds like I am introducing myself as part of some supernatural twelve-step program but it does get the important information out in the open.
I haven't always been called Watcher. I had a different name once but it has long slipped from my memory. I was born during the last great ice age so at the best guess I am at least 24,000 years old and to the best of my knowledge, I am the oldest Were alive.
I didn't choose the name. It is the name bestowed upon me by others of my kind. I began to be known as Watcher several thousand years ago simply because that is what I do, although I would not learn of this until much later. While others of my kind gathered in small family units that would eventually grow into our modern day packs, I stayed separate.
That's not to say I never had a family, I did. I loved my mate with every fiber of my being. Our bond was intense beyond measure. Our joys, our success, our losses were all shared. To me, she was the most beautiful woman alive. I suppose I should explain the bond I'm referring to. Upon mating, weres develop a mental bond that allows them to communicate without a need for words. Alphas can do something very similar with their packs but not with the same depth of connection.
I was out hunting steppe deer when fear and panic begin to scream through the bond. There was nothing more imperative at that moment than for me to return my mate. My legs burned as I ran, the miles vanishing under my feet. I had almost made it back when I felt all three bonds shatter and disappear. The pain was unbearable and I crashed to the ground. My wolf, my constant companion, and friend smashed his way to the front and took control.
We had made our camp in a small box canyon which some human hunters decided would be perfect for chasing mammoths into. My mate and cubs never stood a chance. Weres are strong but even we cannot survive several tons of rampaging wounded mammoth.
I found myself in the tattered ruins of my life. My wolf had brought me the rest of the way home. I raged and screamed. I contemplated ending my existence but there was something else I had to do first. I tracked the mammoth hunters back to their camp and found them celebrating the successful hunt with their families. Despite their best efforts everyone in their camp shared the same fate as my mate and cubs. I then surrendered to my wolf.
I don't remember much after that. My grief and the pain of my loss were too much to bear and I went feral. I was nothing more than the wolf, a massive killing machine, impossibly powerful even for then.
How long was I gone? I truly do not know. Every so often the wolf would withdraw, allowing me to assume control once again and each time we would be in a new strange place hundreds if not thousands of miles from where I last remember. It began to be a game for me, never knowing when or where we would be. I have come to realize he was testing me, seeing if I was truly ready to embrace the world again. If a culture has a legend or myth of a giant wolf more than likely I was the cause. I'm fairly certain Fenrir the wolf of Norse legend is me.
Sometimes my lucid spells would last days, sometimes years. I watched as the world grew and people explored. I watched as man and wolf worked side by side, usually without the human realizing it, founding civilization as we know it. I watched over the packs as they grew and interacted. That's not to say I didn't take the occasional hard action when I needed to. There have been a fair number of packs to discover the bloodied remains of their Alpha if I thought they were a particularly cruel individual.
Growing up there was no concept of ranks in a pack like today. Those of us who were alive back then were all Alphas; we could not have survived had we not been. So yes I am a 24,000 years old Alpha and without question the strongest were alive. It was around 1,000 BCE that I finally assumed full control of myself again and it was then I discovered what I had come to be called.