"Windsong," you sigh as you look down at her, your thick, square, fiery red, black clawed hands running through her hair.
She looks up, fright of all things in her wolven eyes. They dart side to side, never meeting yours straight on, half pleading, half searching for escape. Suddenly you realize that she is completely within your power, and will do as you command. "Yes, my Queen?" she asks with a whine. Her submission, her devotion... it pleases you.
"You shall stay with me tonight while I gather my thoughts." You realize instantly that this truth must remain silent, as silent and as ephemeral as the wolves amidst the trees, rarely even glimpsed by the human world. Things must be settled, done, understood.
Your eyes narrow, both with the anger that this one might lie to you, and with the determination that first the werewolves, and then the world itself must be brought to heel.
The epiphany strikes you like a thunderbolt, as you suddenly know that this is what your purpose is. You turn your hand over, splaying your padded palm and fingers wide, claws arching into the air. To command. To control. To make the human race accountable again. To make it humble once more with the knowledge that it is not above the beasts. The claws upon your own hands confirm the truth.
Windsong remains silent, eyes following yours as you muse further on your place, your duty. You recall the events of the whole of human history, and it makes you sneer in disgust. The wars, the petty power plays, the savage needs run rampant.
"The fools," you snarl. "Soon they will know the true predator unleashed, against them, among them, within them. They will learn the truths of their responsibilities of the place between predator and prey, and be humbled... or die."
You chuckle darkly as the first elements of your plan hatch within your savage mind. For you are the Predator now, the Werewolf Queen, and your being is a Truth come to bear.