Cameron "Cam" Henderson - Backstory

My name's Cam, I'm sixteen years old and the son of Ares. You know, the Greek God of war? Don't look at me like that, I ‘aint tripping and I ‘aint crazy. Although sometimes I wonder.

Up until four years ago, my life was pretty normal. I was born in Northern California, and my birth name was Dylan Smith. My mom died soon after I was born. Complications from giving birth is what they told me. In other words, "sorry kid, looks like you killed your mom on the way out." Since no one knew who my dad was (funny that) or how to get in contact with him, I got put into care. I grew up in a care home, one big revolving door for unwanted kids. Kids from broken homes, kids without homes, kids with issues; you know, kids like me. Some of ‘em only stayed for a short time, either stuff got sorted out at home enough for them to go back or they got fostered out or adopted. Not me though; I guess even back then, people could tell there was something different about me. I spent twelve years in that place. It weren't a bad place to live you know, but it ‘aint no home. Not by a long shot.

But enough of the emo crap. If you wanted to hear shit like that you'd go to myspace or something.

Things were "fine" until the 7th grade field trip Crater Lake National Park. I was so stoked, I'd never been camping before; hell, I'd never been on vacation before. We were gonna spend the week camping, hiking, mountain climbing, canoeing, learning about geology and ecology; okay I wasn't as excited about that last bit but still, a week away from the home, out in the woods with my friends.

The first couple of days went normally. I kept out of trouble, mostly. Okay I got into a fight with Spud and Mr. Harris caught me and Becky having some "alone time" but nothing major. On the third day, my happy little life came to a crashing halt.

We'd been split up into teams of five; four kids and one adult and driven out to the other side of the park. The idea was to get back to the campsite by nightfall. Each team had a map, a compass, packed lunch, some bottled water and a GPS. The map had our starting point and the campsite on it, as well as a special location (different for each team) to pick up a marker to prove that you didn't just hitchhike back to the camp. First team back won something, can't remember what though. It was up to us kids to do all the navigating, reading of the maps and choosing the route. The adult was there just to keep an eye on us and make sure we didn't get up to any mischief. Oh, and the adult had a radio just in case we got lost or needed help or something. Fat lot of good that did us. We picked up our marker easy enough and started heading towards the camp; that's when things started to go wrong. First the GPS conked out, then the compass started to go haywire, spinning around at random. After a couple of hours, we admitted that we were lost and gave up. None of the terrain around us matched what we could see on the map and the trail that we had been following seemed to vanish. Plus it started getting dark real quickly. Well earlier than it should have.

That's when we heard it; the howling. As long as I live, I will never forget that sound. I can't really describe it, but I just knew that this wasn't the sound of normal wolves. Normal animals never sounded like that. We were still trying to work out what to do when this huge thing leapt out from the trees on to the teacher. He screamed once as it dragged him across the clearing into the trees on the other side. A few seconds later, his severed head was thrown into the clearing. Wolves don't do that; wolves can't do that.

Now, I've had a reputation of being a tough kid back at the home, the sort of person you don't want to mess with. I wasn't a bully or anything. Hell, if one of the younger kids was getting picked on, they always turned to me to sort the other guy out rather than go to one of the care workers. I've always been good with my fists and my feet, ever since I started going to karate lessons after school. So I know how to handle myself when I get into a fight. And since I've got a reckless streak a mile wide and a short temper to match, getting into fights happened quite a lot with me. But when that thing ripped the teacher apart in front of us, I pissed myself. You would too. Then they attacked, five or six of them charging into the clearing. I should've done something to try and stop them. But I froze; I just stood there as my friends were screaming in terror and did nothing as the things tore my friends to pieces. At least they died quickly, they didn't suffer much.

It was my turn then, and that's when they did something that really freaked me out. They turned to me, fur dripping with blood and gore and told me to run. That's right, these wolf things could speak. They said "run little scion, it's not a hunt if there's no chase." I didn't need to be told twice. I pegged it into the woods even though I knew these things would probably be able to out run me.

They chased me for hours it seemed. Always just behind me, darting in just close enough to slice me with their claws or tear at my clothes with their fangs. Eventually I couldn't run any further, I was exhausted. Just as I was about to collapse, one of them jumped forward slammed me with its paw. It sent me flying, crashing into a tree head first, blood from the tear on my side spraying everywhere. The thing stood over me, its teeth bared. Before it could rip my throat out though, something barrelled into it, leaping over my head and through the tree to get at it. It looked like a ghostly wolf and it stood between me and the things, snarling at them as if protecting me. Just before I passed out, I saw this guy stride into the middle of the things a shotgun in one hand and anime-length sword in the other.

I woke wrapped in wolf pelts by a crackling fire and it was dawn. The wound on my side was gone; all that was left was a long scar where the thing tore a chunk out of me. That's when I noticed Him. He was sitting across the fire from me, watching me. The way he was looking at me was almost as scary as those things. Anyway, the way this guy was looking at me, it's like he was studying me, analysing me even. Eventually, he stood up, picked up his shotgun (the sword was nowhere to be seen) and started to walk off. "See you around kid," he said over his shoulder dismissing me, "if you live long enough."

"Hey wait up," I yelled after him, throwing off the pelts and realising with a start that they were actually the skins of the things that had chased me, "what if more of those things come? You can't just leave me here alone."

"I'm no park ranger kid. I can do whatever the hell I like. But there are no more fenrir after you. They were the last." I remember that hitting me like a punch to the chest. He went on to tell me that the fenrir had been tracking me since we had entered Oregon, picking up my scent and following us to the park. The reason my friends were dead was because they had been after me. I threw up; unfortunately I splashed some puke on his boots, big mistake. He went to backhand me but I ducked under his swing (remember, I've been doing Karate since I was six and its one of the few things I'm actually good at) and he looked surprised, impressed even. "It's been at least five hundred years since one of my kids has been able to do that, maybe you're not such a wimp after all," he said looking at the vomit and the dried piss stains on my pants. "You better sit down son; this is going to take a while."

If you haven't figured it out yet, the guy that had saved my life, healed the mortal wound and made sure I made it through the night was Ares; my dad. I didn't believe him at first either. But he can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be. He introduced me to Orin, the wolf spirit that I'd seen tackle one of the fenrir, and asked me about my life. Like I was ready to open up to this guy, I was still in shock. I suddenly realised that I didn't want to be here, that all I wanted to do was to go back to the home and pretend this had never happened. That's when "dad" dropped another bombshell. He snapped his fingers and a local newspaper appeared in his hand. He showed it to me, the front page was dominated by the story that the mutilated bodies of four people, my friends and my teacher, had been discovered in the mountains. That had been over a week ago, I'd been lying here unconscious all that time, "dad" watching over me. "The people that sent the fenrir have got the police saying that you might have had something to do with their deaths."

Great, if it wasn't enough that I suddenly found out that was the son of a fucking war god (which would explain my temper and ADHD I suppose) and that monsters are real and they want to kill me, the police think that I butchered my friends. At that point I was ready to break down and I never cry, ever. Anyone who tells you different is a liar.

Orin came over to me and starting nuzzling up close. I jumped back, the image of the wolf-like fenrir ripping my friends apart still fresh in my mind. I realised though that in its own strange way, it was trying to comfort me and I reached down and stroked its fur. "Dad" told me to follow him and he led me through the trees. After about ten minutes we came to the road and by the side of it was the baddest looking Harley I've ever seen. He leaned against the bike and turned to me. "You got a choice Dylan. You can head left and go back to town where the police will want you to answer a few very awkward questions. Or you can head right and hop on a goods train heading east. If you're lucky you might give them the slip." He threw me a backpack as if he already knew what I was going to do. Boy was he wrong.

"No way, this is not how it's going to happen," I yelled at him, "you knew my name before I told you, and you knew monsters were after me. You do not get to dump this shit on me and then ride off like it's not your problem." Let me tell you, the one thing you do not want to do is get a god of war angry. But then, I was never very smart. He lashed out at me, this time I didn't dodge it and was sent sprawling into the dirt.

"Boy, I could crush you like an insect. I am your father and you will treat me with respect or by Zeus, what I do to you will make Prometheus's punishment look like a reward," he roared standing over me.

"Just because you banged my mom twelve years ago, don't give you the right to call yourself my father;" I yelled back, "I've known junkies that make better deadbeat dads than you!"

Okay, at this point I was expecting to, well, crush me like an insect but he suddenly started laughing. "Maybe you've got a backbone after all." Getting back on his bike, he took a pendant from around his neck. A wolf's talon on a string of leather and tossed it too me. When I caught it, Orin appeared next to me. "Orin's your's now. He's taken a shine to you it seem. He'll look after you so don't say your old man never gave you anything. Who knows, if you're still alive in a few years, I may look you up." With that he drove off, leaving me choking on the dust.

I spent the next four years on the road, moving from town to town; sometimes staying in shelters for runaways of homeless people, sometimes sleeping rough on the streets or on park benches. I could never stay for very long in place either. Eventually I'd attract unwanted attention and would be forced to leave again. Sometimes it'd be the cops or a well-meaning charity worker. But sometimes it would be another monster and if I wasn't careful, those around me would be the ones to get hurt.

I learnt a lot about fighting and running in those days, it wasn't easy and I got hurt a lot. I was still just a kid after all and there are plenty people willing to take advantage of a kid alone on the streets. Orin was always there for me though, looking out for me and protecting me. I also started to feel faster, stronger and tougher. At first I thought it was just me getting better, but when I started to bench press cars, run across water and talk to wolves other than Orin, I knew that part of my "heritage" was starting to show.

Not long after I started showing these new abilities, I started looking for others of "my kind." I couldn't be the only one after all. It took me a while, us scions don't exactly wear name badges, but eventually I found someone. To be honest, he was the one that found me sleeping under an underpass. On the promise of a warm meal, I followed him to a diner and we got to talking. He was a few years older than me and he'd been through the same sort of shit I had. He'd had longer to deal with it and he was better at using his abilities than I was. In an effort to impress him I even showed him Orin (in an alley so as not freak the norms) and it did impress him. Beck, that was his name, offered to let me stay at his place; a chance to sleep in a real bed with a roof over my head for once. That should have been a major awooga. Normally when an older guy offers to give a homeless kid a bed for the night, charity is the last thing on his mind. Beck might not have been as physically powerful as me, but I've since learnt that some scions can persuade you of anything.

We got to his house, a large place on the edge of town. Nice and isolated with no one around. I should've known that it was a trap, but it was like I was under some sort of spell. He wasn't after my body though, he wanted Orin. He showed me to my room. The lights were off and as soon as I walked into the room, Beck slammed the door shut and locked it. I turned around and pounded on the door. That's when I realised that the wood panels had been covering a metal door and the walls had been reinforced with steel plates. "What the hell's going on Beck?" I yelled through the metal door.

"I don't know how a runt like you managed to get hold of guardian spirit that powerful, but it doesn't matter." I started to hear breathing from in the room and could smell something rotten. "I got a good deal going with the owners of this house. I find them food and breeding material, and they let me keep the victim's stuff and stay for free."

"Wait, what?" There was cackling from behind me and whispers of "fresh meat," "smells young," and "smells cute."

"Oh yeah, you see the things about harpies is that there ‘aint any male ones so you can guess where you come in. The down side is that once they've done the dirty, they get kinda hungry and the first thing on the menu is their mate. Have fun." I heard footsteps on the other side of the door as Beck left me there.

That's the last thing I remember. I know I got pretty banged up, more so than usual. When I woke up next, I was in bed covered in bandages. At first I thought I was in hospital, what with all the hospital machines. Then I realised that no hospital would let Orin curl up next to the bed. Pretty soon a man walked in and introduced himself as Kanenas. I didn't like the look of him, especially when he started telling me that he'd been looking for me for a while and started telling me that I was safe. The only thing that stopped me from bolting from the room was that I was still woozy from all the pain killers, that and I could barely move as it is. Eventually he managed to calm me down; giving a surprisingly effective speech which I get the impression is well rehearsed and used often.

When I was well enough to move, he asked a boy my age to show me around the place and show me where I'd be staying. If I wanted to stay that is. Let's just say that me and Tyler didn't exactly hit it off. Even worse, we were supposed to be roommates. We were at each other's throats from day one, bickering and arguing like ... well like brothers. We came to blows a few times, a few punches, some shoving, nothing serious however. Thing is though, when one of us got into trouble, we had each other's back; no question about it. Like the time a bunch of Thralls got onto the grounds. I remember back then we fought back to back, we were awesome, totally in sync, like we'd rehearsed it. Me laying the smackdown with my fists and feet, Tyler wielding a broken branch like that ninja turtle who uses a quarterstaff. I get the feeling that if things had been more serious, Tyler would've given his life to save mine if necessary. That's when I realised that the same was true for me. When I mentioned this to Kanenas afterwards, he just laughed. "Of course you both feel that way, you're brothers." It turns out that Tyler, like me is a son of Ares which meant that just as Kanenas said, we were half-brothers; we were family. That's when I decided to stay.

If Tyler was the reason I stayed, then Diego was the reason I almost left. As soon as I met him, I got this creeyp feeling every time he was around, like he knew something about me. And the way the kid looked at me with those hungry eyes, it wasn't normal. Then, a month after I had arrived, he cornered me in a corridor and said "I know who you are Dylan, and I know what you did." Ever since arriving here, I've kept my past a secret. Hiding the fact that I got my friends killed and that I'd done nothing to try and save them. I'd even gone as far to use a fake name. I'd spoken to no one, not even Kanenas. I knew the man knew my past, even if I'd never spoken to him about it. But I knew that he wouldn't say a word until I was ready to talk to him about it. Where Diego had got the info from I've got no idea. Rather he pried it out of my brain, convinced Kanenas to tell him (unlikely, the guy's scarily good at resisting that sort of shit) or just googled me or something I don't know. The fact is he knew. He told me that if I wanted to make sure that no one else found out, it'd cost me, and if I told Kanenas then he'd call the cops in Oregon and tell them where to find me. The smart thing to do would've been to pound the little shit into the floor and head for the hills. But the thing is, for the first time in, well, forever, I'd found a place that actually felt like a home. I'd found people that I actually cared about, people that actually gave a damn about me. I'd found a family. So I had no choice but to give Diego a big chunk of the small allowance that we all got from Kanenas and pray that he kept his end of the bargain.