I am what I am

In animal form, I am Canis lupus arctos, or an Artic Wolf. My pack originated in Iceland although you will not find any there today. In Iceland we belong to the category of legends and fables.

Recently I was posed the question: Can a shape-shifter pick their animal form? That is a very good and simple question to answer. Our form is something we are born into, and no different from having the genetic code for brown hair or blue eyes, we have the genetic code for our animal form.


Shifters come in three basic species: canine, feline and ursine. Within those groups there are variations such as me being an Arctic wolf or Mika being a coyote. When I was a child, Saint would tell me the story of shifters that did have a choice, but as we say, that was merely an old wolf's tale.


And let me set the record straight here and now, shifters are not were-wolves, although people refer to us as such. There are no such things as were-wolves and vampires. I cannot bite someone and turn them into a wolf which is a good thing considering... um... never mind.

Síðar
Ghost 

A little help please?

My dear friend Joan asked to help her with a little project. It seems she will be adding a new character in the next installment of our little story.

She would like for people to help her name the character, and I agreed to put his mug shot and bio on my blog to help give her a little boost with her contest. I do so with a bit of apprehension since, well, his photo speaks for itself.

So, if you don’t mind, please help my girl out with naming this guy.

Síðar

Ghost

Help me name the character and win!

The shifters and I need your help in naming my new character. He will make his appearance in the second Guardian book Burdens of a Saint.

The rules are simple. Just pick a name and e-mail it to me at joan@joanhazel.com by March 20th. All submitted names will be listed after that and voted upon by the public. The winner will receive a signed copy of Burdens of a Saint after publication.

Does anyone know me?
I was found bloodied and beaten outside the gates of Haven, with no memory of who I am or how I got here. I also don't know where the brand on the back of my left shoulder came from or what it means. I only know it hurts like hell.

I think I'm 19 years old and have this strange feeling I don't belong in my own skin.

I do remember being shuffled from one foster home to another until I got too old. If I have a family, I don't know who they are. Can you help me?