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Old 07-31-2015, 10:22 AM View Post #1 (Link) Beautiful Eternity Ch. 1
Gone (Offline)
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I'm new to this site, so I don't really know what I'm doing, but here goes. I'll really appreciate any feedback and criticism that you have. If you got bored or stopped reading, it'd also be really great if you could let me know why and where, so I can improve the story. Thanks



I was a monster; I knew that for a fact. There was no mistaking my true nature or the bloodlust that controlled my actions. And yet, I denied it. Every month, on the night of the hunt, I would tell myself the same thing. I would convince my conscience that what we were was not wrong, that it was not satanic, that it was just my natural instinct. I would repeat it over and over in my head, praying it was true. I am not a monster.

...I've become a bad liar.

* * *

The night was quiet. It was the kind of silence that pressed down on your ears, as if it were driving shards of glass into your skull. No birds sang or chirped, no insects buzzed through the air. It was as if the forest knew what demons prowled under its branches. Watching, waiting.

I curled my fingers and toes into the earth, finding my grip. The ground seemed to hum with energy— or maybe that was just my adrenaline. A cruel wind dragged its icy claws across my naked skin and it pulled at my hair. I clenched my muscles against the cold. The midnight moon was nearly full, shining bright through the leaves of the forest. My body itched to shift, to stretch, to run, but I anchored myself to the ground, braced for action.

A low, unearthly cry pierced the silence like a knife. Sound and movement exploded through the forest, shattering the stillness of the night as the Silverhill Lycans came to life. Their cries of response sounded like a chorus of weeping angels that cried for blood.

The hunt had begun.

I lurched from my position on the ground, fully extending into the air. I let the moon take me and the shift spread through my body like lightning. Unforgiving pain ripped through my flesh. My bones shattered and re-shaped themselves. My skin stretched, tore, and sewed itself back together.

I landed hard on the earth and dug my four paws in the soil to spur myself forward. The howling continued. Heat gathered in my abdomen, bubbling with excitement. And hunger. A starvation so profound it stabbed at my innards, craving the sugary taste of blood on my tongue.

I felt my packmates around me, fanned out across a wide expanse of trees and underbrush, sprinting toward our prey. Sleek, wolf-like bodies seemed to almost fly across the forest, kicking up earth and destroying the tranquility of the scene. Their luminous Lycan eyes flashed through the branches. We barreled through the woods, leaping over fallen logs and winding among trees. The muscles in my legs burned and I relished the warm feeling of release that coursed through my veins.

Samantha Atkin, my closest friend in the pack, ran up behind me. She nipped at my flank, and I huffed in response. I glanced back at her, and she sped up, matching my pace. Her white coat seemed to glimmer in the washed out light of the moon, contrasting with my own dark fur, signature of the Hamilton family. We sprinted side by side, panting hard, before we split before a tight expanse of trees.

A sweet, intoxicating smell filled my nostrils. We're close. Behind the smell of breathing flesh, the sour stench of fear was prominent. It was sharper than the scent of most animals, exotic almost. Unlike any animal we've hunted before. It smelled like—

No. That wasn't possible. The adrenaline was getting to my head.

I listened to the blood rushing through the creature's veins, to the elevated heartbeat, heavy pants. Saliva gathered in my mouth.

The animal was running. Its footsteps were heavy and awkward, weighted down by either size or exhaustion. No effort had been made to cover its tracks and the noise it was making was like a trail of breadcrumbs. Too easy.

Fourteen Silverhill Lycans burst through the trees into a clearing. Elias Hamilton, my father and Alpha of the pack, was at its center. He paced around his prey, staring it down with his bright eyes. He walked with a permanent limp, favouring his left hind leg, yet he’d never looked as frightening as he did now.

My father had a powerful presence. He had the form of a typical Lycan: slender legs, narrow body, coarse fur, long tail. Almost like an oversized dog, without the compulsive appetite for tennis balls. The one thing that made him different from the other Lycans was the way he carried himself. Tall. Proud. Quiet. Watchful. His sharp gaze was enough to make anyone tremble.

My eyes zeroed in on the creature that had collapsed onto the ground at his paws.

I blinked once.

Twice.

Then the image before me finally reached my brain, and my blood ran cold.

The girl was clutching at her bare body. Her dark hair was matted and bloody, sticking to a fresh wound on her shoulder. She rocked back and forth on her dirty feet, mumbling incomprehensible words to herself, eyes shut tight. Her small frame shook with fear and exhaustion. She couldn't have been older than twelve. Or thirteen? It didn't matter. We never hunted humans. It was against the Laws.

The Silverhill were silent. Not one of us moved. We watched my father circling the girl, his eyes never straying from her figure. A sharp bark rose from his chest. The girl jumped and snapped her eyes open, scrambling a few feet away from him.

I understood, then, why the Alpha had chosen her. She wasn't even human. Her eyes were a bright blue, but her pupils were lined with a circle of light, betraying her true form. Lycan. I scanned her body, and then I found it her pack mark: a small, seven-point star branded onto her shoulder blade. She wasn't just any Lycan, she was a Nightstar. She was less than vermin. Vermin that had broken the age-old treaty between Silverhill and Nightstar.

All sympathy I had for her, replaced with a much more powerful and dangerous emotion.

How did I not notice it before? The sharp, distinct smell of another Lycan. The thrill of the hunt must have played with my senses.

The same realization rippled across the pack. Snarls and growls erupted across the clearing. I joined them, letting the rage out through the harsh sounds that flared from my throat. Samantha shot forward, making a move for the girl, but was stopped by my father. The girl cowered, closing her eyes again as a sob escaped her mouth.

Everyone knew where our pack borders were. Our Silverhill territory spanned across a large section of British Columbia. It was impossible to cross over unintentionally. She must have known that crossing into another Lycan's territory without consent was punishable by their Law. Was she a spy? An assassin? I looked over at her hunkered down figure, at the tracks her tears left on her dirty cheeks. Definitely not an assassin. But whatever she was, she chose the wrong night to take a trip through Silverhill.

I stared at her face. I've seen her before in town with two other Nightstars. What was her name? Chloe? I wasn't sure. Even in Sherbrooke, the small town nestled in the valley between our territories, Silverhill and Nightstar avoided one another, and she had never stood out. I’d never have thought she’d be the one to cross over, the one to breach the Council’s Law, to neglect the treaty.

The Nightstar pack would pay deeply for this infraction.

Our Alpha growled, and we fell quiet.

Then, his gaze landed on me. The muscles in my legs stiffened. My eyes flicked from side to side, hoping for guidance from my packmates. No luck. They watched with a reserved awe, with no consolation to offer. They were as shocked as I was. I spared one last glance toward Samantha, but she remained still.

I stepped forward tentatively, keeping my head down. My father moved aside, allowing me to approach the Nightstar girl. He said no words but the command was clear.

Kill it.

My stomach writhed. My father always made the kill. It was sacred tradition to allow the Alpha the first taste of blood when hunting. My breath seemed to be stuck in my throat, as if someone had shoved a wad of cotton in my mouth. The Silverhill Alpha was testing me, waiting for my next move. Testing his daughter for the resiliency and ruthlessness required in an Alpha.

I could feel my pack's eyes on me, and I fought not to squirm. Their stare held no malice, only silent curiosity, but it was uncomfortable all the same. I turned back to the intruder before me. She whimpered as I neared, and my heartbeat quickened at the pathetic sound. Her eyes locked onto mine, begging, please. I breathed in, letting the smell of her flesh and the sound of her heart sink into my mind, locking into my memory.

I raised my lips in a snarl, letting out a long, threatening growl, stalking forward.

"Please," she whispered. Her voice was surprisingly soft and her eyes watery. I almost did a double take. I had expected her to scream. "D-don't do this."

I didn't stop.

"It wasn't my fault, I swear." Her voice was shaking now as she tried to crawl away, stopped by the wall of Lycans behind her, trapped. I heard her heart convulsing in her chest, the blood running through her veins and trickling out the ugly wound in her shoulder.

"It was an accident," she whispered hoarsely. Her eyes glistened.

The girl changed. Pale brown fur sprouted from her skin and her body spasmed as it morphed into the shape of a Lycan. The Nightstar lifted her muzzle, looking me dead in the eye. Her tail was tucked in between her legs and she cowered. She scrunched her snout in a half-hearted snarl. The shift had aggravated her wound and fresh swells of crimson stained her pelt.

She was only a foot away from me now. I drew myself up to my full height, towering over her hunkered figure. I could feel my father watching me with his cold, calculating gaze. I breathed slowly through my nose, calming my heartbeat, and flashed my fangs at her. She darted from her spot and circled back behind me. At that moment, she reminded me of the neighbor’s small-bladdered Chihuahua dog. Whenever they would take it out for a walk, it dashed from place to place with its ears flattened against its skull, unsure of what to do with itself.

Focus, Lanna.

I lunged. My jaws locked around her left foreleg. My teeth tore through the wiry layer of fur, skin and muscle, and scraped against bone. The Nightstar screeched and struggled against me, digging up soil and leaves. She wrung her body from side to side in a failed attempt to shake me off. Sweet, sweet blood poured into my mouth, and it was all I could do to not keel over in ecstasy. Another shriek tore from her throat, and the once-silent birds that had been hiding in the trees flew to the air in a panic.

When I finally released her, she teetered away, tucking her injured leg to her chest. She crumpled onto the ground. Fresh blood stained her fur and dripped onto the earth. I waited for her to stand, but she wouldn't move. Had she given up?

I almost pitied her. She looked so small and pathetic, whimpering. But then again, she had broken one of our most crucial Laws. She deserved every minute of pain brought upon her.

My father growled. Time for sympathy was over.

When I moved forward, the Nightstar gnashed her teeth, but there was no fervor behind the gesture. With one deft movement, I sank my fangs into her neck and breaking skin, just short of her jugular. She yelped and jerked away from me, tearing larger holes in her throat.

I rolled to the side and let the Lycan stand. She was unsteady but hate, pain and anger smoked behind her glowing eyes. She was the one to lead the next attack, paws outstretched and fangs gleaming in the moonlight. I dodged her clumsy assault easily, heart beating a tattoo on my ribcage. Now we had a fight.

I knew we were unevenly matched. I had years of training from my father and the Silverhill Elders father favouring me. She, on the the other hand, fought gracelessly. Her attacks were messy and significantly slowed down by her wounds. Not unusual for a Nightstar—they were never known for their prowess on the battlefield. It felt like little more than a game. But it was better than nothing.

We leapt at the same instant, clashing in mid-air. We tumbled to the ground in a series of barks and growls. The Nightstar snapped at my head, and this time her fangs caught on my ear. I sprung away. Without waiting for her to regain balance, I threw myself forward again, aiming for her throat. Finally, my teeth hit home and I felt my jaws rip through her flesh, crushing her windpipe. I tasted her blood again, the hot, sticky substance swirling across my tongue. She thrashed violently in a failed effort to break my grip. A sound came from her, halfway between a gargle and a whimper, and then she went silent.

The Nightstar had gone limp by the time I relaxed my hold. I let her fall from my jaws with a soft thump onto the forest floor. I looked at her for a long moment, watching as the blood pooled around her body and soaked into the soil. Her eyes were still open, but the glow was gone, replaced by an empty stare.

She was dead.

I lifted my eyes to the Alpha. He tipped his head down to me in a gesture of approval, then threw it back and howled into the night. My pack joined him, their eerie song of victory ringing through the woods.

I stayed silent.

I am not a monster.
  
						Last edited by Gone; 08-20-2015 at 05:33 AM.
					
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Old 08-11-2015, 03:04 AM View Post #2 (Link) Truly fantastic.
nerdychick24 (Offline)
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There are so many things about this I love. The overall feel of this chapter is great, and I believe that it sets the tone for what the novel will be- dark, scary, but overall thrilling. Some of the specific things I noticed:
1. That I didn't quite figure out which gender the main character was until quite a ways into the chapter. Some people might not have a problem with that, but if I'm reading a book and am not sure what gender the main character is, I get pretty confused. I think that could be easily fixed.
2. I enjoyed the tension between the main character and the father figure, and I immediately felt what you wanted me to- that living up to his expectations would be difficult. A++ on that.
3. I was riveted and totally into it up until the moment they see the girl on the ground. I would possibly mention that the main character recognizes her- that might keep the audience a little more interested. I was super into the prospect of 'the hunt'. I could feel myself there, and for some reason the sudden interruption that came from them finding the girl threw me off a little.
Those were my observations on this chapter. Overall, wonderfully written, and I am definitely looking forward to more! fantastic job.
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Old 08-11-2015, 06:35 AM View Post #3 (Link) This post is a reply - don't critique it
Gone (Offline)
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Thank you so much!! It really means a lot, your advice was super helpful!
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Old 08-11-2015, 09:24 PM View Post #4 (Link)
Nneoma Udoyeh (Offline)
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The story was truly phenomenal, but I will advice you to make theme a nit more clear. Your beginning pulled me into the story and I was really in it. I could see the emotions of the characters and the main characters inner voice was so clear. I can tell that you spent a lot of time on this piece and it really paid of, please don't stop writing.
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Old 08-11-2015, 09:38 PM View Post #5 (Link)
Nneoma Udoyeh (Offline)
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Your story is truly phenomenal. It pulled me in to the point that I could see the characters emotions and I could here the main characters inner voice. I think it can have a better topic though. I can tell you spent a lot of time on this piece and it was worth it please keep on writing.
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Old 08-18-2015, 03:27 PM View Post #6 (Link)
RockerBunny (Offline)
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Hey there, I'll be critiquing this line-by-line and my thoughts will be in blue. I'll go over general comments about the story, grammar, etc. in the end after the LBL.


Spoiler:
Originally Posted by Gone View Post
I was a monster; I knew that for a fact. There was no mistaking my true nature or the bloodlust that controlled my actions. And yet, I denied it. Every month, on the night of the hunt, I would tell myself the same thing. I would convince my conscience that what we were was not wrong, that it was not satanic, that it was just my natural instinct. I would repeat it over and over in my head, praying it was true. I am not a monster.

...I've become a bad liar.

This is definitely a really good opening. Itís catchy and pulls the reader in. So far, so good. Letís see how this goes.


* * *

The night was quiet. It was the kind of silence that pressed down on your ears, driving shards of glass into your skull (Iíd actually suggest writing this line in such a way that it indicates that the silence felt like it drove shards of glass into your MCís character. As of now, it sounds though it actually did drive shards of glass into her skull)
. No birds sang or chirped, no insects buzzed through the air. The absence of noise was unsettling. (Iíd say that the last line is unnecessary since thatís what the previous two lines indicate. Thereís no need to tell the reader what he/she would have easily understood from previous context.)
It was as if the forest knew what demons prowled under its branches. Watching, waiting. (I really like this. )


I curled my fingers and toes into the earth, finding my grip. The ground seemed to hum with energyó or maybe that was just my adrenaline. A cruel wind dragged its icy claws across my naked skin and it pulled at my hair. I clenched my muscles against the cold. The midnight moon was nearly full, shining bright through the leaves of the forest. My body itched to shift, to stretch, to run, but I anchored myself to the ground, braced for action.

A low, unearthly cry pierced the silence like a knife. Sound and movement exploded through the forest, shattering the stillness of the night as the Silverhill Lycans came to life. Their calls of response (This could just be me, but there seems something off about saying calls of response. Consider rewording that?)
sounded like a chorus of weeping angels that cried for blood.

The hunt had begun.

I lurched from my position on the ground, fully extending into the air. I let the moon take me and the shift spread through my body like lightning. Unforgiving pain ripped through my flesh. My bones shattered and re-shaped themselves. My skin stretched, tore, and sewed itself back together. The change took little more than a few seconds, but it shook me to my core. (So, Iím guessing these Lycans are like werewolves? Correct me if Iím wrong.)


I landed hard on the earth and dug my four paws in the soil to spur myself forward. The howling continued. The sound Heat (Ok, letís just stop here. What is sound Heat supposed to mean?)
gathered in my abdomen, bubbling with excitement. And hunger. A starvation so profound it stabbed at my innards. A guttural growl crawled up my throat, craving the sugary taste of blood on my tongue. (Ok, so here Iím left wondering what felt the craving for the blood - the growl (highly unlikely, but thatís what it sounds like here with this sentence structure) or the throat? Consider rewording this to make this less ambiguous.)


I felt my packmates around me, fanned out across a wide expanse of trees and underbrush, sprinting toward our prey. Sleek, wolf-like bodies seemed to almost fly across the forest, kicking up earth and destroying the tranquility of the scene. Their luminous Lycan eyes flashed through the branches. We barreled through the woods, leaping over fallen logs and winding among trees. The muscles in my legs burned and I relished the warm feeling of release that coursed through my veins.

Samantha Atkin, my closest friend in the pack, ran up behind me. She nipped at my flank, and I huffed in response. I glanced back at her, and she sped up, matching my pace. Her white coat seemed to glimmer in the washed out light of the moon, contrasting with my own dark fur, signature of the Blackwell family. We sprinted side by side, panting hard, before we split before a tight expanse of trees. (This last sentence needs to be reworded. The repetition of the word before ruins the flow that the story had so far.)


A sweet, intoxicating smell filled my nostrils. We're close. Behind the smell of breathing flesh, the sour stench of fear was prominent. It was sharper than the scent of most animals, exotic almost. Unlike any animal we've hunted before. It smelled likeó (Iím guessing your MC thinks itís a human...)


No. That wasn't possible. The adrenaline was getting to my head.

I listened to the blood rushing through the creature's veins, to the elevated heartbeat, heavy pants. Saliva gathered in my mouth.

The animal was running. Its footsteps were heavy and awkward, weighted down by either size or exhaustion. No effort had been made to cover its tracks and the noise it was making was like a trail of breadcrumbs. Too easy.

Fourteen Silverhill Lycans burst through the trees into a clearing. Elias Blackwell, my father and Alpha of the pack, was at its center. He paced around his prey, staring it down with his bright eyes. He walked with a permanent limp, favouring his left hind leg, yet heíd never looked as frightening as he did now.

My father had a powerful presence. He had the form of a typical Lycan: slender legs, narrow body, coarse fur, long tail. Almost like an oversized dog, without the compulsive appetite for tennis balls. The one thing that made him different from the other Lycans was the way he carried himself. Tall. Proud. Quiet. Watchful. His sharp gaze was enough to make anyone tremble.

My eyes zeroed in on the creature that had collapsed onto the ground at his paws.

I blinked once.

Twice.

Then the image before me finally reached my brain, and my blood ran cold.

The girl was clutching at her bare body. (Look at that - a human )
Her dark hair was matted and bloody, sticking to the fresh claw marks on her shoulder. (She was attacked? I donít recall having read about that in the last few paragraphs...)
She rocked back and forth on her dirty feet, mumbling incomprehensible words to herself, eyes shut tight. Her small frame shook with fear and exhaustion. She couldn't have been older than twelve. Or thirteen? It didn't matter. We never hunted humans. It was against the Laws.

The Silverhill were silent. Not one of us moved. We watched my father circling the girl, his eye never straying from her figure (This makes me think that Elias has only one eye. If this isnít the case, consider making that eyes)
. A sharp bark rose from his chest. The girl jumped and snapped her eyes open, scrambling a few feet away from him.

I understood, then, why the Alpha had chosen her. She wasn't even human. (Ok, so she isnít human? Interesting...)
Her eyes were a bright blue, but her pupils were lined with a circle of light, betraying her true form. Lycan. I scanned her body, and then I found it her pack mark: a small, seven-point star branded onto her shoulder blade. She wasn't just any Lycan, she was a Nightstar. She was less than vermin. Vermin that had broken the age-old treaty between Silverhill and Nighstar.

All sympathy I had for her, replaced with a much more powerful and dangerous emotion.

How did I not notice it before? The sharp, distinct smell of another Lycan. The thrill of the hunt must have played with my senses.

The same realization rippled across the pack. Snarls and growls erupted across the clearing. I joined them, letting the rage out through the harsh sounds that flared from my throat. Samantha shot forward, making a move for the girl, but was stopped by my father. The girl cowered, closing her eyes again as a sob escaped her mouth.

Everyone knew where our pack borders were. Our Silverhill territory spanned across a large section of British Columbia. It was impossible to cross over unintentionally. She must have known that crossing into another Lycan's territory without consent was punishable by their Law. Was she a spy? An assassin? I looked over at her hunkered down figure, at the tracks her tears left on her dirty cheeks. Definitely not an assassin. But whatever she was, she chose the wrong night to take a trip through Silverhill.

I stared at her face. I've seen her before in town with the other two Nightstars. (The use of the other two Nightstars makes me think that there are only two Nightstars in the entire population, which, Iím guessing isnít the case. So, consider rewording that to something like two other Nightstars)
What was her name? Chloe? I wasn't sure. Even in Sherbrooke, the small town nestled in the valley between our territories, Silverhill and Nightstar avoided one another, and she had never stood out. Iíd never have thought sheíd be the one to cross over, the one to breach the Councilís Law, to neglect the treaty.

The Nightstar pack would pay deeply for this infraction.

Our Alpha growled, and we fell quiet. He watched us, observing with a silent grace. I waited for his next move, trembling within my skin.

Then, his gaze landed on me. The muscles in my legs stiffened. My eyes flicked from side to side, hoping for guidance from my packmates. No luck. They watched with a reserved awe, with no consolation to offer. They were as shocked as I was. I spared one last glance toward Samantha, but she remained still.

I stepped forward tentatively, keeping my head down. My father moved aside, allowing me to approach the Nightstar girl. He said no words but the command was clear.

Kill it.

My stomach writhed. Always my father made the kill. (Put Always after My father)
It was sacred tradition to allow the Alpha the first taste of blood when hunting. My breath seemed to be stuck in my throat, as if someone had shoved a wad of cotton in my mouth. The Silverhill Alpha was testing me, waiting for my next move. Testing his daughter for the resiliency and ruthlessness required in an Alpha.

I could feel my pack's eyes on me, and I fought not to squirm. Their stare held no malice, only silent curiosity, but it was uncomfortable all the same. I turned back to the intruder before me. She whimpered as I neared, and my heartbeat quickened at the pathetic sound. Her eyes locked onto mine, begging, please. I breathed in, letting the smell of her flesh and the sound of her heart sink into my mind, locking into my memory.

I raised my lips in a snarl, letting out a long, threatening growl, stalking forward.

"Please," she whispered. Her voice was surprisingly soft and her eyes watery. I almost did a double take. I had expected her to scream. "D-don't do this."

I didn't stop.

"It wasn't my fault, I swear." Her voice was shaking now as she tried to crawl away, stopped by the wall of Lycans behind her, trapped. I heard her heart convulsing in her chest, the blood running through her veins and trickling out the ugly wound in her shoulder. Sharp tremors raked through my body as I struggled to keep myself from leaping forward and ripping out her jugular. Instincts can only take you so far, my father once said. Learning to control them is key. I kept my eyes locked onto her shaking form and tried to control the mad hunger coiling my stomach.

"It was an accident," she whispered hoarsely. Her eyes glistened.

The girl closed her eyes, and changed. Pale brown fur sprouted from her skin and her body spasmed as it morphed into the shape of a Lycan. The Nightstar lifted her head, looking me dead in the eye. Her tail was tucked in between her legs and she cowered. She scrunched her snout in a half-hearted snarl. The shift had aggravated her wound and fresh swells of crimson stained her pelt.

She was only a foot away from me now. I drew myself up to my full height, towering over her hunkered figure. I could feel my father watching me with his cold, calculating gaze.(This could just be my opinion, but I feel this is unnecessary. Youíve already emphasized this a few paragraphs ago. Why do it again?) I breathed slowly through my nose, calming my heartbeat, and flashed my fangs at her. She darted from her spot and circled back behind me. At that moment, she reminded me of the neighborís small-bladdered Chihuahua dog. Whenever they would take it out for a walk, it dashed from place to place with its ears flattened against its skull, unsure of what to do with itself. A high-pitched whine rose from her and she lamely swiped a paw at me. Focus, Lanna. (Ok, this sounds like itís being said by the Nightstar, which makes me think that maybe the Nightstarís name is Lanna. But, then again, I feel like you meant this to be a thought of the main character, which isnít so clear here, because you havenít actually mentioned that your MC is losing focus of the situation or that your MC is thinking this. So, consider adding something to that effect and also separating that thought into a separate paragraph.)

I lunged. My jaws locked around her left foreleg. My teeth tore through the thin, wiry layer of fur, skin and muscle, and scraped against bone. The Nightstar screeched and struggled against me, digging up soil and leaves. She wrung her head from side to side in a failed attempt to shake me off. (I would have thought that the Nightstar would have tried to shake your MC off by moving her leg from side-to-side. I wonder what moving her head is going to accomplish...) Sweet, sweet blood poured into my mouth, and it was all I could do to not keel over in ecstasy. Another shriek tore from her throat, and the once-silent birds that had been hiding in the trees flew to the air in a panic.

When I finally released her, she teetered away, tucking her injured leg to her chest. She crumpled onto the ground. Fresh blood stained her fur and dripped onto the earth. I sat down on my haunches, listening to her labored breaths. I waited for her to stand, but she wouldn't move. It was as if she had given up.

I almost pitied her. She looked so small and pathetic, whimpering. Then I remembered that she had broken one of our most sacred Laws, and that she deserved every minute of pain brought upon her.

My father growled. Time for sympathy was over.

When I moved forward, the Nightstar gnashed her teeth, but there was no fervor behind the gesture. With one deft movement, I sank my fangs into her neck and breaking(broke) skin, just short of her jugular. She yelped and jerked away from me, tearing larger holes in her throat.

I rolled to the side and let the Lycan stand. She was unsteady but hate, pain and anger smoked behind her glowing eyes. She was the one to lead the next attack, paws outstretched and fangs gleaming in the moonlight. I dodged her clumsy assault easily, heart beating a tattoo on my ribcage. Now we had a fight.

I knew we were unevenly matched. I had years of teaching (Iíd suggest writing training here, but this is your story) from the Silverhill Elders and my father favoring me (Is this during the training or during the present fight?). She was only following her emotions. While I fought with quick, painful lashes, she fought wildly like an untrained pup. Not unusual for a Nightstaróthey were never known for their prowess on the battlefield. Her attacks were graceless, messy and were slowed down by her injuries. It was little more than a game for me. But it was better than nothing.

We leapt at the same instant, clashing in mid-air. We tumbled to the ground in a series of barks and growls. The Nightstar snapped at my head, and this time her fangs caught on my ear. I sprung away. Without waiting for her to regain balance, I threw myself forward again, aiming for her throat. Finally, my teeth hit home and I felt my jaws rip through her flesh, crushing her windpipe. I tasted her blood again, the hot, sticky substance swirling across my tongue. She thrashed violently in a failed effort to break my grip. A sound came from her, halfway between a gargle and a whimper, and then she went silent.

The Nightstar had gone limp by the time I relaxed my hold. I let her fall from my jaws with a soft thump onto the forest floor. I looked at her for a long moment, watching as the blood pooled around her body and soaked into the soil. Her eyes were still open, but the glow was gone, replaced by an empty stare.

She was dead.

I lifted my eyes to the Alpha. He tipped his head down to me in a gesture of approval, then threw it back and howled into the night. My pack joined him, their eerie song of victory ringing through the woods.

I stayed silent.

I am not a monster.



I liked this. There were not a lot of grammatical problems that I could notice, so thatís good.

The writing, definitely, has a certain flow to it. There were times when I felt like you could have reworded the sentence or removed the sentence altogether. But, these were very few.

Story-wise: Thereís definitely action in this chapter. Thereís a hint of conflict. I see the story heading in a direction where the main character and her pack try to figure out why a Nightstar broke their pact. Itís definitely intriguing and I might be interested in reading more. Alongside, thereís also the MC trying to convince herself that what she is doing isnít wrong.

In the middle of the chapter, when you were describing the action: it felt like you were repeating a few facts constantly - the fact that she was trying to control herself, how fast her heart was beating (something you repeat quite often), how she kept seeing the fear in the Nightstar, etc. I feel that you can avoid repeating these facts as much as you did.

Overall, I liked the flow of the story. Thereís action so far, but the conflict, as of now, seems like itís been done before. Iím hoping that reading further will change that, because this was definitely a good read.

Hope this helped. If you have any questions, feel free to PM/VM me.
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HOPE (main WIP) (10369 words)

Request a critique via VM/PM and I'll get to it as soon as possible.
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Old 08-19-2015, 06:22 PM View Post #7 (Link) This post is a reply - don't critique it
Gone (Offline)
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Thank you! That was super helpful! I really appreciate the time you put into this! :D
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Old 11-11-2017, 10:55 PM View Post #8 (Link) This is my all time favorite
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I will remember this story for a long time and look foreword to more like it
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