20/12/2005- I recently rediscovered and decided that of all my fanfics, this one was the one that had the most potential in terms of 'able to continue/finish'. I went on hiatus to focus on my writing career (which has had moderate success) and apologize for the wait. Hopefully I've improved and gotten better in general in terms of style and technical details, so please review and tell me what you think!

I own nothing other than the idea, the plot, and Tara Isolde Aine Llewellyn. She's Irish. The name's Celtic. Go figure. Also, the main character's Wiccan. I believe that at the time that I first wrote this, I was still undecided about my religion. I have since decided to take up Wicca and have been training/studying with a very good Druid friend of mine for some time now. Yay for pagans.

Silver

/telepathic communication/

/Thought/

March 17, 2000

"TARA! DO YOU HAVE THE ROSEMARY?" Tara ran back up the hill toward her house.

"Yes, mum. It was back in that little alcove near the cave, like you said it was." Tara's mother took the fresh bundle of rosemary and dropped it into the pot of boiling water.

"Now, why don't you go take a shower? You've got only 2 hours before your initiation." Tara stopped at the window, looking at the dying plant on the sill. She touched the dead leaves, slight annoyance rising in her at her brother. Didn't the buffoon know to water the plants when she was away?

There was a soft glow, and then the plant was a healthy green again. Tara stroked it as the tiny tendrils of plant language crept into her mind, and then moved on to the next pot, where she restored to poor crumbling leaves of a rubber plant. A sudden smell of cut grass and cologne pervaded the house, and her big brother walked into the room.

"So, how's the new witch in the family?"

"I'm not a witch YET, Alec. But I'm fine." Tara turned and tackled her big brother.

"Tara, get in the shower." Tara's mother looked out of the kitchen menacingly, brandishing a sprig of wet rosemary at her offspring.

"Yes, Mum." Tara got up and walked into the bathroom. Satisfied, her mother returned to the kitchen, humming old hymns and throwing bits of lettuce out the window, to land in the rabbit pen.

Several minutes later Tara was done, and was toweling her hair dry as she walked into her room. The sun catchers and wind chimes rang and twirled merrily with the breeze from the window, which was still slightly chilly. She put on jeans and a t-shirt and went outside to join her brother, who was playing Frisbee with the family's large golden retriever, Colm.

"Here, Colm, come on, go get the Frisbee." The dog chased after the colored disc. His old, arthritic joints kept him from actually jumping for a Frisbee, but it never kept him from slowly padding over to it and gnawing a bit before returning it to his owner. Tara watched him sit down with a huff! and then flopped down on the icy grass herself, watching her mother through the kitchen window.

"Hey, Alec, who are they?" Two men had driven up in what looked to be an American-made car, something like a Buick. They walked up to the door and rang the bell. Tara's father, who had just come home from work, answered.

"Hello."

"Is this the Llewellyn house?" Mrs. Llewellyn left her post at the kitchen sink and came to the door.

"Who is it, Ian?" Mr. Llewellyn stepped in front of his wife and glanced at his children on the lawn. Alec caught his glance and stood in front of his sister, as if preparing for a fight. Tara felt something snuffling against her leg, and looked down to find Colm nudging her with his nose, the Frisbee at her feet. She picked it up and threaded her fingers through his graying gold mane, heart beating wildly.

"Yes, this is the Llewellyn house. Why do you ask?" Suddenly the men pulled guns. Time seemed to slow.

"We are from the Friends of Humanity. We know what you are, Ian Llewellyn." Tara's father reacted immediately, hitting the man as hard as he could while his wife pushed through, trying to reach Alec and Tara. Before she could get there, the second man hit her over the head with the butt of his rifle. "We know what your wife is and what your children are. We are here to rid the Earth of you and your kind." Tara stood in shock, watching as her father grappled with one of the men while the other walked up to her mother, who was lying on the ground. He drew his gun, and pointed it down…Tara couldn't hear anything except herself screaming, and didn't notice the jarring impact of her brother slapping her moments later. She couldn't remember seeing it happen, just Alec's hand closing over her eyes as two gunshots hissed out, then a third, and then three more.

"Tara! Run!" They both turned tail and fled as the curious cries of neighbors drew closer to the house.

The ground at their feet exploded in a hailstorm of bullets. They ran for the woods, hoping to lose the man in the darkness. His heavy, pounding footsteps told them he was near. Somehow, they found themselves at the steep slope of a ravine.

"Get into it, Tara. Once he comes, use the vines and hold him tight. Don't let him move." They waited for what seemed like an eternity, when they saw him peer over the edge. He raised his gun to shoot them, only to be bound from head to toe in huge, thorny vines. Bind, Tara thought, Bind him. Don't let him get away. Tara let control of the vines go, and they hardened into a cocoon of thorns. His terrified eyes stared at them through a crack in the deadly nest, watching them both run away as a flood of red poured down and seeped through the thorns. The second man, still running, was searching through the forest for them. Tara huddled between the roots of a large tree while Alec prowled around, the beginnings of a long snout and bushy tail already appearing around his face and body. He stripped off his clothes and changed partway, hulking about like a half-man half-wolf monstrosity from a horror movie.

"I'm going to go evi-…evisc-…bite him. Teach him to ever hurt my family." The rapidly elongating jaw made it hard for him to speak, and he whimpered in alarm when his sister began to cry. "Shhhh, little one. I will make him go away. Don't worry. We'll be alright." He snuffled around her face and neck in a manner similar to Colm's, and then was fully a wolf. She looked up into his black eyes and scratched him around the ears, and he licked her face, long and wet. Then suddenly he was gone, and the entire woods were full of the sounds of wolf snarls and yips and a man shouting.

Another gunshot took her completely by surprise, startling a fresh set of tears from her eyes. Alec stumbled back into her view, dragging a leg and whimpering. Another sharp crack rang out and her brother fell over, breathing hard. The man with the gun cursed and reloaded his gun, and then raised it again. Alec looked at his sister, hiding beneath the large tree, and whimpered. He jerked backward and did not move again, except for the soft rippling of fur turning to smooth human flesh. Tara watched the man kick Alec's dead body and walk away, muttering to himself. It wasn't until she had counted to a thousand that she dared move, and it took another count of a thousand to work of the courage to crawl up to her brother. He was breathing shallowly, eyes closed. Tara laid her head down on his chest, and counted the heartbeats she heard. She only got to fifteen this time before she began to scream.

It was through a wash of red that she awoke the next morning, sticky and cold. Her brother lay beneath her, and her face and chest were covered in blood.

Her family was dead.

The realization hit suddenly, and Tara found herself gasping for air as if she'd been punched in the stomach. Her family was dead, and there was a grey smudge in the sky in the direction that her house was in. The smell of smoke and blood came to her in waves, causing her to fall to her knees and retch, shaking badly and unable to get up.

She was still there an hour later, when someone picked her up and, looking sorrowfully at her brother's body, carried her back to their car. As he was pulling away from the curb, a small buzz alerted him to an incoming call. He picked up, and nodded grimly.

"Yes, Charles. I have her. Send someone to get her. Absolutely." Hanging up, he looked back at the smoking remains of the house, now torched and smoldering. He sighed and ran a hand through his red hair, tears in his eyes.