Mama says not to pay any mind to the gossip, but when you're twelve years old, it's hard.

Thirteen years ago, she fell in love with a man, she says. She is deliberate, when telling that story, in saying that he was a man, even though the church says he was part demon. He was smart, Mama says, and brave, and funny, so funny that Mama could laugh herself to pieces when he was telling jokes, she says.

I never got to meet him, since the village drove him out of town soon after he arrived. It was by accident they found out what he was; he was helping Pastor Phillips with Christmas decorations and was burned by silver. The pastor was furious that he hadn't revealed he was a werewolf and word of his secret spread like wildfire.

Mama says she loved him so much, even though she'd only known him a few months, but the village was her home. They parted on good terms, and my father left for new pastures. What Mama didn't know was that she was already pregnant.

The villagers were torn, since my mama was such a good, lifelong citizen of their little town. Her parents had died young and she had no siblings, so she considered the people of the town to be her family. And that they were, she said, through thick and thin. They stopped by with chicken soup when she had a cold. A plumber let her work off payment for things like fixing the pipes in her cabin when her work at the diner didn't make her enough money to have savings.

So, they seemed to agree together that Mama had just been taken advantage of. Tricked by this demon, and it wasn't her fault. But me? The baby they didn't predict? That was difficult for them to reconcile. In the end, we ended up in a stalemate of sorts. My mama was still the woman she'd always been, and to a degree they trusted her to raise me right.

But that didn't mean they trusted me.

Children are cruel to outsiders, and that's what I've always been. They heard whispers from their parents, they learned what I was and would become when I was older. And they tormented me constantly at school through the years. Mama had raised me up good, though. She had told me it was coming, before I'd even started school, she knew how bad they would treat me. But she said not to pay them any mind and told me that God loved all his children, even me.

Even if I wasn't allowed in the church.

Mama taught me the prayers and lessons from the bible when she got back from church on Sundays. Every night she would kneel with me beside my bed for my evening prayers, telling me that I'm such a good child. I believed her. Mostly. At first. But having a whole town telling you something else can be a burden for a little one like me.

So, one Saturday night, when I told Mama I was going to bed early, claiming I was tired, I snuck out the window. And I went to the church.

You see, when you're a werewolf, my mama explained, when you get to puberty you need to turn into a wolf a few times a month. She told me to tell her when I felt it, and she said I'd know it when it was coming. And I did. But that first night, when I started to feel the pull of the forests at the edge of town, when I felt the birth of a new part of me forming in the back of my head, I needed to know something, first. I needed to try to pray, not just at home, but like the rest of the town on the holy grounds of our church.

Under cover of darkness, I snuck around to the front door, quietly opening it inch by inch and sneaking in, closing it behind me. It was a small church, being just for our town, but it loomed over me imposingly as I entered. I'd never been inside, only able to imagine, but it was so peaceful. The windows were stained glass, and I was sure they looked pretty in the daytime with the sun shining through. I smiled at the image. My eyes glanced over the podium where the pastor would stand and give his wise sermon, helping his flock grow closer to God. I so wished I could be part of that, but as things were, I needed to do this on my own.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I walked down the aisles, taking a seat in the first row. Hesitating, I realized there was a cloth-layered bar to kneel on, like I would kneel at bedtime, so I did so. I closed my eyes, laying my hands together and resting my elbows on the wooden barrier in front of me.

"Hello, God, it's me," I spoke. I hesitated. "I wanted to come pray before my first turning. Mama taught my all my prayers and I know 'em backwards and forwards. I'm always good, I do my mama proud. Not that I need to tell you, 'cause you can see everything, of course. I know my Bible; Mama tells me stories from it all the time. I follow the teachings of Jesus close as I can. I even turn the other cheek when kids at school make fun of me. Even when I got beat up that one time, you remember, I didn't hurt them back."

I took a breath. "But I'm gonna turn soon for the first time. It don't feel like a bad thing, just feels like something that is. Mama said it'll probably be weird and it might hurt, but my wolf will be scared of people, so it'll run off into the woods. Maybe to hunt, maybe just to run. Running sounds wonderful, God, and I've been doing more and more of it lately. I think it's 'cause I'm gonna turn soon…

"Right. So, I wanted to talk to you about that, and I came to the church 'cause I wanted to make sure you heard me loud and clear, 'cause it's important." I hesitated. "Mama says I'm a good kid, and I believe her 'cause she's my mama. She'd never lie to me, especially not about something like this. But…"

My voice trailed off as I gathered my thoughts and I took a deep breath again. "But I'm not gonna let myself become anything bad, you hear me? I don't know what it means to be a werewolf, Mama just says I might start to get scared of closed-in spaces and when loud people who get in my face. And I don't know what kind of man my Papa was, even though Mama says he was a good man and I…I mostly trust her on that.

"But this is a good town, with good people. They're just scared of things they don't understand. And to be honest…to be honest, so am I." I blinked back tears as they started to form in my eyes, wiping them away before they could fall down my cheeks, before putting my hands back together in prayer. "So, if I can be a werewolf, if I can live a good, moral life and make you proud, I'm gonna do that. But if I do anything bad, I'm gonna need your help, okay?"

I sniffled. "I'm gonna go running soon, and my wolf and I are gonna have a big talk when she gets here. Mama's taught me the difference between good and evil, between right and wrong, and I'm gonna make her proud, no matter what. So, if my wolf isn't good, if she isn't one of your children, if she's a demon…I'm gonna run away. Mama says suicide is a sin, so I wouldn't do anything to make you disappointed in me, God. But I won't hurt no one either. If there's…if there's a monster in me…I could never risk it hurting my mama."

Tears came on stronger then and I fell back into the pew's seat, my breathing getting ragged as I tried to stave off sobs.

"Child?"

I startled, wiping my eyes furiously and looking up and around. "God?"

There was a chuckle and movement caught my eye to the right as a man appeared, illuminating himself and the room around us when he flicked on the lights. "Not quite. I'm Pastor Phillips. Don't believe we've ever met."

I grimaced, getting to my feet. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean any disrespect, I just-"

The pastor waved off my apology. "Nonsense, you stop that at once." I shut my mouth and nodded. He was an older man, maybe seventy years old, and he moved a bit slower than most. He sat down in the aisle across from me. "So, you're Tracey, hm?"

"Yes, sir."

"You seem like a good child," he murmured. I gazed back at him in surprise. Of all the things to happen tonight, this was something I'd never considered. I had thought being kicked out on my behind was much more likely, to be honest. "I must say, I've known your mother her whole life, and I had no doubts of her ability to raise a moral child. It was just…tricky, the situation with your father."

"I know, sir," I murmured.

He paused. "What you said to the Good Lord just now…it stirred my soul quite a bit," he said gently. "I'll be honest and say that I have always had my suspicions of what a werewolf child would grow up to be, and I worry for…" He coughed out a small laugh. "Well, literally a wolf among my flock." I nodded, averting my eyes. "But you seem less like a wolf and more like…a lost soul. You seem like any other one of God's children. And while you were praying, I felt his presence."

I looked up to meet his gaze again, my eyes widening. "You did?"

He nodded. "You'll be turning soon, will you?" I nodded. "I think you should come to church tomorrow morning."

My mouth dropped open in shock and my breath caught in my throat. "You mean it?" I whispered.

"Our Lord does not judge by appearances," he told me. "Nor by the sins of our mother and father, nor by anything else that might be deemed as different, things that may be cause for schoolyard bullying." The pastor put his hand on his chest. "He judges us by what is in our soul. Not only do you have a good soul, child, but I feel I would be doing our God a disservice to continue to turn you away. I'd like to help you find your way in this life of yours. I'd like to keep you on the right path. Would you let me do that?"

A shaky smile surfaced on my face and I nodded. "Yes, sir."