Wolf

I ran for a full day and night not even bothering to worry about food or rest, or any other necessities. Until the evening of the second day when I collapsed in a clearing, panting for breath and passed out; I was so exhausted that I didn’t even care that I pissed myself.

When I woke up it was evening again and I was still in wolf form, my particular breed of werewolf feels the effects of the moon for a full five days before and after the moon’s waxing is at its peak (there are other breeds of werewolf, some are the typical mythical werewolf, half man, half wolf beasts that only change during the full moon; and some are shape shifters, able to change whenever they want; and then there’s my breed, not able to control the transformations except for during the full moon). I had two days to get across the border and then I didn’t have to worry about the bitch until the next full moon. If only full moons were less often, my life would be so much easier if they were two and three months apart.

I went in search of a stream, a pond, a puddle, or a trickle; as long as it was water my dry mouth and throat didn’t care. I found a small spring welling up out of the ground, kind of like a water fountain, and drank from it greedily, slightly frustrated that I couldn’t drink faster, but actually glad that I couldn’t, because I didn’t want to puke because my stomach rejected all that ice cold water after I drank it too fast.

After my thirst was slaked I was hungry enough that I could’ve chewed off my own foot. So I went off in search of prey. I found a wild turkey searching through the sparse snow underneath a tall pine for food and pounced, quickly snapping its neck and killing it instantly, I then took it back to my clearing and, changing back into my human form, skinned and dressed it (I don’t much care for the skin and it’s easier), and set it on a spit over a fire to roast rotisserie style. It was hard to wait, but as soon as the meat looked like it was going to fall off the bone, I pulled it off the fire and devoured it, not caring whether it burned my mouth, but immensely grateful that it was winter, which helped to cool it off. When I was done and nothing was left but bones, I stretched out wolf-style and slept off my meal.

I woke up not feeling right, not as if I was sick, but I had an instinctual feeling that it was time for me to leave. I had wasted enough time sleeping off my cowardly flight from the pack meet and that coupled with the bad feeling that was rising from my intestines to the pit of my stomach and telling me that whatever bad thing that was going to happen would happen soon, was making me eager to be on my way. I scuffed out the fire, smothering the embers in snow and covering it all with dirt and more snow, I set out into the light snow that was sifting down, grateful for something that would easily cover my tracks.

I trotted purposefully throughout the rest of the day, and through the night, trying to make up for lost time, heading in as straight a line as possible to speed up my journey to the border as much as I was able.