Wolf

The rest of the journey was uneventful, and I stopped five miles from the meeting grounds around dusk at the end of the second day. I brought down a small doe and a pair of rabbits earlier in the day, and though I was eager for venison I refrained, grudgingly, saving it as a gift for the bitch. Alphas expect gifts from loners returning for the meet on the full moon, it shows that the ‘wolf is successful and able to take care of themselves; so the bigger the gift, the better. I grimly set to skinning and cleaning the rabbits for myself, though with many longing glances at the plump young deer that I had tied up in a tree to keep it from scavengers. I was still hungry when I went to bed. The winter fur on the rabbits helped to disguise how scrawny they were, but it was too late to get more. I stared at the fire, ignoring both the grumbling of my stomach and the tempting smell of the deer, and then slowly drifted to sleep.
I awoke early, with the sun, and resumed my trek in human form to be able to carry the deer without ruining the hide with puncture marks. If I had been in a normal pack, the whole ordeal would have been ceremonious. Werewolves don’t normally leave the pack out of spite towards the Alpha, or out of anger. A lone werewolf is simply that, lone. They leave the pack because they would prefer to live a solitary existence. But, since I am no ordinary werewolf, I carried my burden toward the pack-meet with my heart sinking to my boots, and anger replacing it.
A werewolf pack-meet isn’t a meeting at all, but a holiday of sorts. A time for new births to be celebrated (yes, werewolves can have children, they just aren’t always werewolf because we weren’t at first), special announcements to be made, and rank challenges to be made, allowing for advancement within the pack. It’s also a time for the lone members to regroup and catch up on pack news. And to possibly meet some new faces. In Farra’s pack, however, there are no new births or special announcements; and hardly any challenges. And you can basically forget seeing any new faces. Farra hasn’t made any new pack members in a very long time, and she most likely won’t start again. As for the births, Farra is sterile as far as any of us know. She’s tried several times, though not with me, but with no results, so she gave up.
I heard the pack-meet long before I saw it, and almost turned in the opposite direction, when the directional gut-tug that had led me all the way gave a vicious jerk that nearly sent me sprawling and Farra’s snarling, whiney voice rang out in my head.
Danny boy you made it! And here I thought you would ditch.
I made my way sullenly towards the clearing, knowing what I would see when I got there, and silently seething at her stupid nickname for me; I didn’t even care if she could hear me. In fact I flung my thoughts at her, all the resentment and anger that I had build up since the last pack-meet, and hit her square in the face with a mental slap.
The whole pack was growling when I reached the clearing, both those in human form and those not. My mental slap had reverberated through all their minds and they were quick to defend their leader’s wounded pride. As for their sniveling bitch of a leader, she stood in all her glory, five-foot nothing with her blonde hair obscuring her face and her green eyes blazing through the curtain of hair.

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.