Pale hands worked diligently, pushing and pulling as the needle played a game of cat and mouse with the thread. The metal caught the flickering light of the fireplace before it continued it's rhythmic pace, sewing the tear in a worn pair of leather pants.

The boy kept his eyes on his work even when someone rushed by his window or when several fists were heard thumping on the front door. "Hey Freak! The day is almost over so you can stop hiding away!" A few cruel laughs resounded behind the wood as they kicked at the door again.

"Hey Red! Red! Stop ignoring us, you mutt!"

The boy's hand twitched but he shook his head slightly. "My name is Jack, not Red. Go bother someone else!" he stated briskly, focusing back on his torn pants. He really needed to fix them; he was forced down to his underclothes because of those annoying villagers.

They were the reason he sat here, shivering in the relative warmth of his house. The teens had caught him after he had tended to the garden, ripping and tearing at his clothes, only leaving his bright red cloak intact.

Eying the garment with disdain, he couldn't help but feel the last bit of pride slip away, his chest deflating as his shoulders hunched. They're right to pick on me, Jack couldn't help the thought slipping through his mind as he plucked at the needle. Maybe I am a freak...

"We'll keep a close eye on you, wolf meat."

There was a slight pause in his work as Jack's eyes flickered towards the door before they slid to the bare skin of his thighs. His skin seemed paler than usual as the light of the fireplace caressed his skin. Jack's fingers slowly inched towards the bandages on his thigh before he paused, eyes looking at the one hanging off of his wrist.

He was numb to the shouts outside his home as the villagers eventually retreated to their own homes. Jack quickly finished his work , removing the clothes on his body as he went to the fireplace. Dipping a clean cloth in the steaming water, he removed the bandages with shaking hands and hissed through his teeth as he unintentionally reopened the wound.

"Hnnn..." Jack quickly bit his lip to stifle a cry as he removed the last of the cloth, throwing it into the fire before he reached to an empty bowl and dipped it into the kettle. Deeming it full enough, he settled it beside him and slowly, hesitantly started to clean his wounds.

Trying not to focus on the pain every rub left in him, he unwillingly remembered how he received those wounds. It had been just at the beginning off the fall season, his mother urging him to go outside with her and collect the last apples before winter sets in.

"Why do I have to wear this cloak?" Jack had grumbled softly as his mother gently tied the strings under his throat. She stopped, brown curls falling down her shoulder as she cupped Jack's cheeks in her warm hands.

Her son looked up at her, pouting as she rubbed through his shockingly white hair before her fingers brushed gently underneath his blue eyes. She smiled as the light of the lowering sun gleamed in his eyes, turning them a bright violet. The gods above only knew why they chose her son and gifted him this burden...

"Jack..." She stopped for a moment as her son looked down at her hand, even her faint tan stood out sharply against his pale skin. She knew he hated the red cloak with a passion, simply because the people in their village were narrow-minded.

His mother had always detested the witch-hunts of the god-fearing villagers, especially when several blaming fingers were directed towards Jack himself.

Just because Jack seemed to lack any natural color didn't mean that he was an abomination! But still, they had used his favorite color against him, forcing him to wear it as a warning for the 'normal' people, so they wouldn't be tainted with his disease.

"Why do the gods hate me..." the boy sulked as he looked down at his pale hands and compared them to the golden glow of his mother's skin. Why did he had to be born differently?

She cast her son a weary smile before giving him a playful punch against his shoulder and laughed when he whined and rubbed it with a pout on his pale pink lips. "Stop your whining and help me get the last apples. Heavens know we won't get out once the snowfalls start.

Jack had smiled softly and nodded before rushing after his mom. At least one person in the village accepted him for who he was.

Tears rolled down Jack's face as he remembered his gentle, loving and caring mother. She didn't deserve to die such a painful way. Once their baskets had filled to the rim with apples, they had started to carry them back to town.

That's when the wolves attacked.

Before either of them knew what hit them, a black blur had separated Jack from his mom and he had to kick and punch at the beast growling on top of him. He had cried out when it managed to dig its fangs in his thigh, shaking its head from side to side.

Jack had struggled against the beasts' hold, yanking at the thick fur and crying out to his mom for help. The beast above him had snapped at his mother, knocking her over and snarling loudly before coming back for Jack.

Red eyes had landed on the boy, freezing him on the spot before the wolf was torn off of him, a large brown beast snarling and snapping at the creature. Jack had used this distraction to wriggle towards his mom, reaching his hand out to her.

He could still feel the horror creep up in him as the black wolf had lunged at his mother and snapped her neck. Jack's horrified cry had echoed through the air when the beast lunged for him, sidestepping the brown wolf that leaped forwards. Jack had thrown his arms out in front of him to block the brown predator and winced when its fangs dug in.

The scent of blood filled his nostrils and just like that, the wolf had released his hold, jumping away from the boy with a snarl before it turned on its black opponent with an enormous roar.

At the sound of the approaching villagers, the wolves had run back into the forest, leaving young Jack to be branded as an abomination.

The last bit of kindness in his life had been ripped away when the villager found him as the only survivor of a wolf attack. They hadn't even bothered helping him with his wounds; they claimed it a werewolf attack and if he changed because of them, they'd have a solid reason to get rid of him.

He had buried his mother at the lake and for the first time in his seventeen years, he felt truly alone.

And now here he was, huffing out a relieved breath when he found no traces of infection or the haunting possibility that he might've been changed into a werewolf. As far as Jack knew, he wouldn't be the village's next victim.

Commotion outside lured him towards the window, where he brushed the curtains to the side to see the latest victim of their trials being sentenced to death. His fingers dug into the wooden frame as he recognized his elderly neighbor. The poor woman had been accused of witchcraft simply because she had provided Jack with the necessary healing herbs. Even her three cats didn't escape their owners' fate.

Jack could only turn away from the grueling sight and close the curtains. If he went outside now, he was sure he'd be tied on the pyre beside her. As the mob cheered and danced around the fire, he could only shake his head with disgust, tears filling his bright blue eyes before he made himself a promise.

As soon as he was healed enough, he was going to seek out the woman that lived in the woods. The villagers were convinced she was a witch but if he had to choose between the villagers and an alleged witch...

Burned on the pyre, hunted by wolves or accept the help of a woman that never harmed him in his life? Jack nodded to himself as he collected the scarce amount of clothes he had. He was going to leave this village tonight.