Change of Direction

I lay on the makeshift fur bed I made myself last night, resting on my stomach lazily with a good size of the pelt over the top of me, hands crossed under my chin as I watch the early morning birds peck at the scraps I left on my cooking stone. Dancing around and merrily, eating what little I left behind. The fire has long smoldered out and everything around me is dewy with early morning moisture. Everything still, and peaceful, in the morning glow of a newly rising sun, and oddly still. I made it through another night, and I'm still here, waking with a better mood with every day this pans out.

I didn't find a cave or shelter last night, so curled up in the bear pelt, that took me a full four days to scrape and clean and dry out in the sun on the hottest rocks I could find. I'm no expert in tanning, or preserving pelts, but it works enough, even if it's a bit stiff and smelly, and it's worth lugging with me every day, despite the added bulk and weight. I sliced it into four manageable sizes for rolling and binding on my back, two for under me at night, spread out like a thin mattress with some comfort, one rolls up as a makeshift pillow, be it a stiff one, and is currently off to one side, and the largest piece I flip fur down and lay over me as a weatherproof blanket, covering on top of the single blanket I carry with me. It keeps me dry anyway, because I don't need the warmth, but I do like the coziness it provides me, even in caves. It gives me a sense of security, and not feeling as exposed when caught in a black surround made of slightly rough fur.

I've been sleeping a little better since that battle. I don't know if it's because I learned something about my own strength, and it boosted my confidence, or if it was just having some slight comfort to use as bedding, and the knowledge I did this all by myself, that helps me sleep a little easier. My senses are not as unstable and panic wired lately, and I feel less on edge.

I mean, I still keep one eye open at all times and stay alert, but I'm not as nervy as I was, and I don't feel quite so bereft in terms of low mood. I feel capable, like I've gotten through the worst and I know I can do this. A founded self-respect in my own capability, that's changing my whole outlook. Maybe skinning a bear and dealing with that blockbusting showed me I have way more stomach than I thought I did.

I'm learning to turn at will too, improving that ability and can almost turn in my sleep now without a second thought. Easy as breathing the more I do it, and I can sustain it for longer as my stamina builds. I can even turn singular parts, like my hand, without a full body turn, which means I'm gaining the control I needed. Like Colton, who uses his eyes to warn when he doesn't want to use his alpha gift, or turn fully … I'm learning how to do it. I can physically feel when I make my eyes change now.

The weird thing though, is my paws and stomach, they seem to be whiter than I remember, with each turn, and without a mirror to fully inspect myself, I can't tell if I am losing Frey. It sounds stupid, but I think my Frey fur is falling out, or getting lighter, and I don't know why. My legs, I'm certain were fully Frey, but now, my feet are white too, and I don't know if maybe I just remember them dirty, or it was dark the first time I turned, but they're snow white now.

I yawn and stretch out lazily, rolling over under my makeshift cocoon, the rough fur grazing my naked skin in an oddly comforting way, and turn to gaze up at the clear sky this morning. Almost tropical blue and cloudless, with no hints of bad weather or rain like a few days back. A great day for an early start, and as I've come up against some uphill terrain in a pretty thick part of forest, I should savor some of this before I hit the shadows of the canopy. It's dusky and gloomy in the dense parts and I like to find clearings to settle at night, so I can wake with the light.

I made a direction change after I set off from my bear battlefield too. Maybe it was the founded self confidence in my abilities, maybe it was the adrenalin clouding my brain, but I decided to embrace my gut instinct and head east, just like my gut kept telling me to do. It's not like I have anyone dictating otherwise, or any destination I am aiming for.

It paid off, and after I did a spot check tree climb to see which direction the mountain lay, I surveyed the land and noted that south was taking me towards clear landscape, fields, and open lands with the hints of a town or city ahead. East was taking me into the mountains, with dense woods, a lot of lower hills and cliffs scattered in continuous canopy cover, and a lot of forest to get lost in. I don't want to be among people if I can help it, so my decision was made. East it was, and since then I feel strangely peaceful.

It's like the stirring aching feelings were not all about Colton, and home, and being alone. As soon as I hit my new direction, something inside of me stopped praying on my thoughts, constantly filling me with a sense of wrong and despair. It's almost like I answered something that had been bugging me, and maybe I should just embrace the fact my instincts were telling me east made more sense. Which it does, even if I'm no longer heading away from the mountain, but sort of parallel to it now. I feel like I'm far enough that I will never accidence stray into the path of a Santo, even if they do come miles for whatever reason. It's a big world, and it would be minimal for a chance encounter.

There's no wind today and I have enough scraps from a deer I felled last night for a breakfast. I smoked a lot of the left over through the night, in a makeshift canopy I stuck over the fire, and let some dry out in the sun before it went down, so I don't need to stop for food today at all. I can eat the semi cured or dried meats and push on. I also packed enough raw in my backpack for later. Now I have a goal in mind, and a new plan, I'm raring to go. The sense of feeling lost is momentarily quiet and it's a good feeling to have respite in some small way.

Last tree I climbed, I caught onto a large distant mountain, not too dissimilar to ours, with a base dipped in the luscious green of the forest kissing its feet. I want to get there. The trek looks a couple of days, and in the woods as dense as this, I can hyper speed with no fear of being seen. There are no people, but the trees are so closely grown that I may have to take detours into clearings to push through some of it to proceed in that direction. It's proper wild land, not man planted and spaced out, and barely grazed by human intervention. Perfect for a lone wolf who wants to disappear into oblivion, never to be found again.

The mountain is the goal, and I hope when I get there, I can find a more permanent dwelling so I can start improving my home comforts. I'm capable of being crafty with my hands, and if I find a cave big enough, I might be able to fashion some necessary things, like clay pots, maybe a chair from woven branches. The more I can make my final landing spot seem half civilized, maybe the more certain of my future I will be. Eventually the homesickness will stop, and maybe one day, thinking about him will go away too. I can't deny I've still cried in low points, and woken with him in my dreams, his touch on my skin, his lips on mine, his voice bringing me home.

Those have been the hardest points, where I woke with longing, to find he wasn't really here and reality slapped me in the face, the sound of him still lingering in my mind and weakening me to want me to reach out and link him. Just to hear that sultry, husky, reassuring tone for real. It would break me for a moment, I'd cry it out, and then feel numb for a while until the sun came up and reminded me why I should only hate him and never give him more than my anger.

So far, I've retained the strength to not open the link and just touch him, even for a tiny fraction of a second. I don't want to feel him in my head, because if I do, my strength will evaporate, and I might give up entirely at a time I'm only starting to come into my own. I need to stay strong for myself.

I'm not going to lie and say I don't miss a real home, beds, carpets, and all the luxuries of the valley, but I'm free. I can go where I want, answer to no one, and it's not like I have any sort of desire to find a mate now, so there's no point in being around wolves. My heart will always belong to him, even if he's denied it and moved on. I would rather be alone than lie about my love for someone new, just to have company. Resigned myself to the fact, I'll love him until I pass, no matter how many years that takes.

I make swift work of getting up and pulling my now dry clothes off the rocks. I washed everything yesterday and slept naked in my fur bed, in the hopes of feeling less grubby today, less scraping by, and more pulled together. Washed myself head to foot with the last of my soap, braided my hair into two plaits hanging down each side of my head to let it dry. I was starting to feel scruffy and feral lately and needed to remind myself that I'm still part human, and the little things, like grooming, can make a world of difference. I feel somehow determined, and cleaner, like I have an actual purpose.

I pack my things, roll up my furs, and eat some of my dried meats as I encase them in large leaves to get ready to go. Binding and tying everything in and to the backpack with vines I corded yesterday, and drag it all on my back, bouncing the weight up to adjust the straps, and acclimation to the weight.

My sneakers are getting scuffed and worn and soon I might have to start finding tree sap to make minor repairs to make them last, or venture towards the human spots in time, to use what money I have for something longer lasting. I didn't expect them to start giving out quite so soon, and in hindsight, I should have brought boots and not these when going off grid. That's the only downside to all this. The human part has certain requirements that nature won't provide unless I get creative. Shoes are not in my skill set, and I'm not sure my human feet could handle the debris of forest floor without them. I would have to turn to go any distance and probably pull a thousand piece of grit and broken wood out of my feet every night.

I fill my belly with meat and water and head off, leaving no trace behind me after scattering the remnants of my fire and burying the ash. It's something my father always ingrained into me, that when you leave a camp it should bear no evidence you were ever there. We should respect nature and leave it as untouched as we found it. I'm always careful to bury or burn the carcasses of my kills, clean the blood from where I skin them or eat them and keep everything neat and clean. It's served me well so far.

Mentally I feel lighter, not that any of my previous wants and desires or heart break is forgotten, but I'm getting better at handling it. My dreams they vary, but always around the same things and I'm still dreaming of Sierra most nights.

I thought it would have faded onto something new by now but she's persistent, and since I started turning east, it's almost like the dream becomes more prominent, the vision stronger. Last night, I swear I could smell scent in the white space around me, smell her, and it had a familiarity I couldn't quite put my finger on. Like a long-lost distant memory, always out of reach, and it gave me a headache trying to claw for it when I woke up in the night, at the utterance of her same old two-word command. If I didn't know better, I would think I know how she smells, but maybe it's from distant memory when she used to read at the library when I was very little, and I somehow retained it. And her voice, like Contraltos yet not, which lingers hauntingly, so equally known to me.

“Save us." It's only ever that, nothing else.

The weirdest thing I've started to notice about the dream, is in it, I'm not as I am now. I've looked down, seen my own hands while in the white room, when she clasps them in hers. My hands are that of a child, small, delicate, dwarfed in hers, which makes even less sense to me. I guess though, like the lost almost forgotten sense of familiar smell, and sound, maybe the dream too is a nod that this all comes at me from way back as a child and I've forgotten. Confused into a senseless moment, reminding me I did once upon a time know who she was. I have all but given up trying to dissect the meaning though, as there doesn't seem to be one.

I come to a relative clearing in the wood on my path, hot and achy from covering miles of ground in fast mode and stop to catch my breath. I drop my bags, by sliding them from tired shoulders with a heavy thud and stretch my body out with an amazing amount of crunching and cracking in the depths of my skin and bones. It feels good, despite the worrying noises. Extending my arms fully and stretching out, extending fingers and limbs to full capacity, making an 'aargh sound as I do so, relieved to lose that weight and able to straighten up without it. I curve my spin and bend my neck from side to side glad to be free, cracking it satisfyingly.

I roll my shoulders and pace around the clearing to make sure it's a safe spot to stop, eyes darting, ears honed in. I can hear water nearby and walk into the tree line by a few feet, until I find a tiny shallow bubbling brook heading downhill. I take my fill quickly, still cursing the fact I broke my water bottle a week back and have no way to carry any, and head back to my bags, pulling out my smoked meat and slump on the floor while chewing on it to take in my surroundings.

The sun is really high, so it must be around noon now, the heat of the day at its strongest. There are birds circling in the sky above, adding a pleasant peaceful calm to the not so quiet of the day. Rustling wind, so gentle it's barely there, as it sends the leaves swaying on the branches around and above me. Small forest animals chatter busily, sing and chirp in the distance around me, while the nearest remain silent as they watch me and try to second guess if I'm a threat. I can almost hear and feel the wildlife paused in their tracks, eyeing me up, little hearts beating fast to see who this stranger is among them.

That's the one good thing to come from all of this. My senses, my instincts, my wolf side, she's growing and developing fast and I couldn't ever have come this far so naturally if I was still back in the Santo pack house. I know I'm changing, becoming self-dependent, so sure of myself as the days roll by. Less convinced I'm a failure and afraid of my own shadow now. I feel like this experience, it's doing something for me that no time in the valley could have. It's taking my wolf and bonding us as one, instead of just being another part of me that occasionally shows up. I guess I'm finally seeing and feeling what it is Colton mastered in his own abilities and embracing my other side. No longer two halves battling for one space, but instead merging together to fluidly flow from one to the other in the blink of an eye.

Maybe I had to lose Colton to find myself. To learn what I was capable of and harnessing it alone. Maybe that was always the fates plan. Teaching me a lesson and setting me on a path. Maybe, right now, he has his own new direction, his own new strengths that came from our brief crossing of paths. Maybe he was always meant to lose me to find himself too. Like somehow this is some small detail in a bigger plan, and our hearts may have been broken but in the bigger scheme of things, it was necessary for something else. Maybe Carmen was always his destiny, and they gave him the strength to betray our bond for that reason.

Who knows? I don't think I ever will. I don't think I will ever find the ability to forgive him for it either, even if it was all in the fate's crazy Lancaster.

Maybe I'm trying to find a reason to justify all of this because I was always taught that the fates are never wrong. They always have a purpose for everything they do, even if we can't see it. Even leaving lonely little girls as unseen shadows in homes for unwanted, and then showing her a light of hope before crushing it in her face and throwing it far away.

I don't dwell for long. I know if I do, the bitterness, the sadness, and anger, it starts to consume me and destroy my mood. I have to move and find somewhere to settle tonight, before the dark moves in, and I want some hours of daylight to properly set up my bed, find leaves and dried grass to pad it first. It's become a ritual daily to help keep me sane. One thing I'm finding is instrumental to my mental Holbein, is taking the time to make my camp comfortable and a little homely and have some down time before dusk. I sleep better, which helps my overall emotional state.

I get up and gaze around, slightly disorientated from walking in circles and going off to find water and decide to check my directional progress before I keep moving. I've covered some distance and want to keep that huge dark mountain in the far distance as my central point to aim for. If I have a plan that I don't sway from it helps me stay focused.

I look up at the trees, walking clockwise in my clearing to find the tallest and thickest of them to climb. It's better to have one with a substantial trunk right up to the top so I can get above the canopy and peruse my land. It's not hard to climb when you have claws and super strength to aid you, and a complete lack of aversion to heights, that I didn't know I possessed.

I pick one and waste no time kicking off my shoes to turn hands and feet into sharp climbing accessories and scale all the way to the top in the blink of an eye. misanthrope have many skills that natural wolves don't, and this is one of them.

I push my head up through the leaves, breaking through easily, and even with this beast swaying as I scale to its terrifying height, I cling on and look out over what I can now see. The trees up here form an almost solid carpet surface that looks like you should be able to step out and walk across. All swaying in waves and dips on the wind up here, like a mass moving green surface on water, with more texture.

It's definitely not as gentle when you're this high and it's almost mesmerizing to watch. The lay of many shades of greens, moving to browns, and some yellows, the peeks of the odd rock formation or small hill and the sporadic clearing. It's a sight that's not comparable to anything else and I revel in its beauty for a moment, the sun fully warming my head and face.

The mountains in the distance are so faint they almost look light Frey, and as I turn to see where I came from it's weird to note my own mountain is now also of a similar color and distance away, but also surrounded by a fog that makes it almost invisible across the large expanse. I get that same aching quench of gut twist when I look at it and shake my head, bringing my focus back to my new destination in a bid to combat those feelings. No time to dwell on where I've been, when I should only focus on where I'm going. Gazing back at my new mountain thoughtfully, something catches the corner of my eye and makes me turn instinctively.

The sun dazzles a little speck, a tiny flicker of white spark which seems to bounce at me across to the right, but when I turn to look properly, I can't see where it came from. The trees sway, covering any chance of seeing it at first. I wait with held breath for the sway back again, wondering if I imagined it, but there it is, a little flicker of reaction in a pop of clearing, almost like a light, shining Morse code sparkles at me, and then it's gone as the trees sway back again. The organic flow of their movement closing and opening the gap where it peeks out.

I focus on it, waiting for the movement of wind to show me it again and this time I hone my eyesight on what it might be. Holding myself as steady as I can on my own moving perch. I catch the tip of what looks like some sort of pole or mast, and when the wind kicks a bit harder, the leaves part wider for a second and I catch the top of something flat and dark Frey, just below whatever is catching the light, and then it's covered again. No matter how long I perch here watching it's the most I can see, and I start to wonder what it is.

It's Madden for sure, but I don't know if it's a mast, a building, or some sort of rural construction used by power companies, or maybe something else. Curiosity is peaked for sure, as it's not far from the path I plan on taking and now I want to know if I'm straying into human territory, in a place that seemed idyllic and people free.

I sigh in exasperation, looking towards the mountain then back to my little flashing light, head forming so many questions and doubts and try to see something I just can't. It might be a supply post, seeing as we are well off the beaten track and people do that. I've heard of it, seen it on Av, and saw them in the books in the school library. Rural buildings sat lone and open, filled with survival kits for lost hikers, injured campers, especially in winter. I mean this place is nestled in a real dense part of the forest, absolutely miles into the center of a massive overgrown part of the area. It could be a supply hut, with dried foods, supplies, maybe even shoes and water bottles.

I look down at the ground far below me as though thinking about the possibility of what I might salvage there, something in my gut urging me to go investigate. It wouldn't be a bad thing to pick up items I could use if that is what it is. I can't imagine it would be anything other than a hut, or a mast.

It couldn't hurt, I mean, I'm not exactly on a schedule and if I get close and it's not occupied, or not a supply hut, and just a mast or something pointless, it'll remove any suspicion of people running into me. It might be nothing more than an unmanned power plant building, and I might gain nothing more than a few hours wasted on a detour. If it's manned, then I get the hell away from it, change path and head for the mountain at a faster pace and hope they never venture the way I'm going. It might still be a source to swipe some essentials though.

My gut says go, and without stopping to debate it any longer, something inside of me egging me on, I slide down the tree to go recover my things and see what is out there in my new discovery.