Packs and other stuff

I woke up cold, naked, and very much human. My hand and chest were stained red and my hair felt stiff with blood. There was even blood in my nose where I had buried my head into the stomach cavity. My mouth and throat were coated, and the taste of blood was heavy and metallic. The deer was attracting bugs, and my stomach heaved at the sight, emptying itself of its unsightly red contents. I felt sick and just wanted to go home; but I knew I couldn’t go back covered in blood. I followed my ears, since my nose was useless, to a small stream where I immersed my head, snorting up water to clear my nose and nearly choking, scrubbing my hair until the water ran clear. I stood up, shaking the water out of my hair and coughing to get the last of the water out of my lungs; then started following my trail back to the clearing where I started and from there back to my bike.

It started growing light as I slipped my leather pants and coat on. I carefully backed the old Indian onto the road and started it up, loving the way its throaty growl thrummed in my chest. The cold wind helped, made me not feel so sick, though I still felt terrible. Despite my exhaustion I had no trouble keeping the Trailblazer on the road, my stomach protested every wobble the bike made, and every bump; so much that I ended up dodging potholes (and throwing up again for my efforts, which made me feel better). I have always hated the morning after; its worse that a hangover, though minus the headache, and there really isn’t a “cure” for it. All you can do is wait it out, or don’t change any more that necessary (which is impossible, because you’d have to be perfectly calm all the time). Either that or try to ignore both hunger and instinct as a wolf.

I thanked all the gods I could think of when I made it home in one piece. I thanked them twice as fervently that the full moon was still two weeks away. Full moon is the only time weres are compelled to change, higher powers being at work. So many cultures were right to worship the moon, or at least include it in some aspect of their religion. Full moon is also when all ‘wolves, whether lone like me or pack members, have to gather in their original pack under their pack leader (i.e. the wolf that changed them, they were always leaders). This is the main reason I became lone; my former pack is nothing but a sick joke, it leader (or Alpha) is female. No, I’m not being sexist. You see, when a human is bitten (changed into a ‘wolf) their entire way of thinking changes. Some go so far as to say that we stop being human but to be specific, we start thinking wolf.

In wolf society the pack is lead by only the biggest, strongest, and smartest wolf in the group. This is always male because female wolves are genetically smaller than males. Granted this way of thinking doesn’t seem fair from a human’s perspective but trust me, it’s for good reason. A pack leader has to be the strongest and the biggest because their right can be challenged in direct combat, usually to the death, at any moment. A pack doesn’t want or need a leader that requires protection; that is seen as a weakness and will be immediately changed. In werewolf society, the Alphas are ‘wolves that have created a pack of their own, these wolves were ceremoniously split from the pack and given their right of leadership through a test. You fail the test, you don’t get leadership and you don’t leave the pack. Although lone ‘wolves are allowed to leave at any time, they do not have the right to change anyone. If it is found that there are new ‘wolves in the area that none of the recognized Alphas are in control of, they are hunted down, mercilessly, and traced back to the rouge who made them.