(1) The Meaning of Being Lonely

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The feel of the crisp night air brushing through my pelt was both exhilarating and relaxing. My paws tapped soundlessly against the cold dirt as I dashed through forest playfully. I had to admit that this was my favorite part of being a werewolf. To be able to race through the forest with such stealth and care was something that a human would never understand; feeling a rush of excitement every time you took down a fresh kill, running miles and miles with no destination in mind, and to be able to watch the glorious sunrise through the reflection of dew drops g a werewolf felt like.

The muscles in my legs were burning from excretion and on top of that I was panting loudly from not being able to catch a proper breath. Completely exhausted from running all day I slowed down until I was at a more leisure pace. As luck would have it I found that a small pool of water was only a few feet away and despite my tired muscles I made my way over to it. After forcing myself to run for miles for such a long period of time my legs felt heavy and the rest of it felt sluggish. I literally had to drag myself over to the pond. Once there I dropped my muzzle downwards and licked the surface of the water. The fur on my back rose slightly at the feeling of cold water hitting my tongue as I lapped it up, as soon as my thirst was quenched though the burden of being alone resurfaced.

I had been born form two rogue wolves so that meant that I hadn’t grown up in a pack like other pups had. The only other wolves I had ever known were my parents and what made it even worse was that once I was old enough to take care of myself they left me. The pain of being abandoned like that stung the center of my chest making me whine. Of course in my mind I knew that I was overreacting, especially since it wasn’t the fact that they had left that trouble me but because no one else was with me to keep me company. At first I had assumed that that was what all wolves went through until they found a mate. It wasn’t until I had turned fifteen that I realized that wolves were meant to be in packs.

My eyes met with the dark brown ones that were reflected on the water. I judged the image of the wolf starring back at me just as harshly as the pack I had once encountered had. The dark brown coat was dull meaning that they weren’t getting enough fat in their diet, small muscles meant they lacked good hunting traits, and the small body frame would mean that they would be easy to take down in a fight. My lips drew back until I was snarling down at my own disappointing image. The only pack I had ever encountered had said those same exact words to me.

The flash of the memory played inside of my head; a young fifteen year old pup stumbling along in the woods in the middle of the night. The smell of smoke and the sound of laughter had caught my attention but it was the presence of other wolves that had drawn me in. I could see myself poking my head through the nearby bushes so that I could catch a glimpse of them. At first I had thought that they were strange the way they sat around the fire in their human skins.

I mean my parents had taught me that our human forms were weaker than our wolf because they lacked claws and sharp fangs so to see other wolves choose to be in human form was very strange to me. What amazed me about the pack was the way they interacted with one another, one would laugh the others would follow, one would speak and the others would either listen intently or join in. I remember listening into their conversation longingly and wanting desperately to be a part of it, almost immediately after realizing that I revealed myself to them.

That hadn’t been the best idea. The Alpha of the pack thought that I was threatening them and started growling at me, and then he realized how small I was and started interrogating me as to why I was here and what I wanted. When I had told him that I wanted to be part of his pack he had laughed in my face. He pointed out that they had no need for a weak pup like me slowing them down.

After meeting that one pack I had yet to come into contact with another. Five years had passed since then and still I am a small wolf with no pack or mate to call my own. I looked away from my reflection with disappointment. Why was it so hard to find wolf packs and why was it even harder for me to join one?

I lowered myself down to the ground and rested my head over the side of my front legs. My thick brown pelt shielded me from the bitter cold of the mid-winter air well enough. Slowly the lids of my eyes started to droop. There was no point in trying to ward off sleep so I simply let it come. I accepted the darkness that flooded my vision and the dreamless sleep that soon followed.

  

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