Romans & histoires Andrew Little Witch Academia

“You look… tired.” I chuckled low, trying to shake off the tension coiled in me. “Comes with running a pack that’s half in ruins. But enough about me, how’s school?” He rolled his eyes, a sheepish grin tugging his lips. “School is… school. I’m managing. Though, if my professors keep piling essays, I might just shift into my wolf form and eat one of them.” I barked a laugh, the sound catching some of the nearby wolves off guard. “Don’t let me read about you in the papers, son. We don't want the human authorities after us.”

Alpha Cameron yells, “Come in. You said you wanted her class schedule and supply list.” “Yes, Alpha. I can’t wait to start school tomorrow.” “We sent for the papers from the Werewolf Anatomy Academy. They sent us your grades and accomplishments. You, young lady, are very smart. Straight A’s for the last three years, and so far this year. You are three credits short of finishing your forth semester of college in wolf anatomy. You can finish that here, and the academy here said they will allow you to take classes this summer. If you are willing to work hard you can finish college in two years.”

- Some Relevant Memories From the Turn of the Century August, 1999 to June 2001 Jace and I started as freshmen St. Andrew College, a small, moderately-priced liberal arts college in the midwest. It was not a christian college in the any sense, the small village was named St. Andrew, so the college borrowed that name as it suggested a degree of wholesome stature while providing no hint of denomination. The school had a reputation for its student-friendly balance between academics and social activities. The primary clientele (40%+) were the younger children of wealthy families who did not aspire to a better school as Daddy had their life paid for. Added to those worthies were folks like Jace a

It was our fifth session, and against my better judgment, I was actually starting to tolerate him. After that disastrous first day in the library, I had expected a total nightmare. But once we moved the lessons to my apartment because he kept complaining about the library chairs, something changed. He actually started trying and I began to know him a little better. Turns out he wasn't completely brainless, he just lacked any form of academic discipline. His grades were climbing into a safe passing zone, and the looming threat of losing my SiporaTech recommendation letter didn't feel as heavy anymore. "Hey, Nathan," Maverick muttered, not looking up from the paper. "Is this right? Do I divide