whiplash girl-child in the dark
I'm still trying to decide how much it's safe for me to talk about. The rest of the pack wouldn't know the internet if it bit them in the rear end, but I'm a little nervous about tempting fate. (Ha. Ha ha ha. I've been doing nothing but tempting fate since ... well, a really long time.)
I guess some of it's okay enough. You people probably don't believe me anyway, so let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time there was a handsome stranger who courted a pretty bitch -- no, I'm not being rude, it's the right word for the loup-garoux. She never knew where he came from, but he appeared one day among the pack of the Old Country and told her about his dream: a world without fear, without vengeance. They mated, had children. Tried to convince the rest of the pack that their way was the better way. But the pack wouldn't listen, and the hunt continued, and eventually the family ran far away, across the sea to where they could live a quiet and peaceful life.
I was born here, in the Old Country, and we moved away when I was young. So young I barely remember being here with my parents. It's more like memories of memories, you know? My Aunt Astrid tells me about how my father would take me to the old church, tell me stories. I don't know if I'm remembering him doing that, or if I'm imagining it based on what she told me since.
We were happy, for a while. We lived deep in the Rocky Mountains, and I had acres where I could run. Free and clear and it was all so perfect. And then my family died, and I came back here, back to the pack my parents ran away from, because Aunt Astrid, my mother's sister, was the only one who could take me in, the only one who knew who I was and how to teach me. And she wouldn't leave the pack, so I had to come back too.
If I'd stayed, if my parents hadn't died or if I'd managed to figure out some way to fend for myself, maybe I'd be in college right now. Or maybe working somewhere, pretending I was "normal", whatever normal is. I'd have a boyfriend (human?). Maybe I'd have gone roaming around the country, trying to find another loup-garou -- there has to be some small pack in America, right? Somewhere? There has to be someone else who left the Old Country and broke free at some point. Maybe if I'd found them, I wouldn't be so alone.
(Except there isn't. We're the only ones left. Nobody's ever found any loup-garou anywhere else. We've looked. There just aren't any.)
It sounds silly to call myself alone when I'm surrounded by my pack. My family. Except they're not my family, not where it counts. They're just people who share blood with me. If they were family, they'd care about me for who I am, not what they think I can give them. And they really don't. They want me because I'm one of the pack, because my parents defied them and left and now I've had to come crawling back with my tail between my legs and pretend to be a loyal daughter of the pack.
But my parents taught me to think for myself. I'm not going to dishonor their memory by going back to everything they left behind. I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go, but that doesn't mean I'm going to roll over and show my throat or my belly.
I just wish I wasn't so lonely.
But you're here, you're helping.
I guess some of it's okay enough. You people probably don't believe me anyway, so let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time there was a handsome stranger who courted a pretty bitch -- no, I'm not being rude, it's the right word for the loup-garoux. She never knew where he came from, but he appeared one day among the pack of the Old Country and told her about his dream: a world without fear, without vengeance. They mated, had children. Tried to convince the rest of the pack that their way was the better way. But the pack wouldn't listen, and the hunt continued, and eventually the family ran far away, across the sea to where they could live a quiet and peaceful life.
I was born here, in the Old Country, and we moved away when I was young. So young I barely remember being here with my parents. It's more like memories of memories, you know? My Aunt Astrid tells me about how my father would take me to the old church, tell me stories. I don't know if I'm remembering him doing that, or if I'm imagining it based on what she told me since.
We were happy, for a while. We lived deep in the Rocky Mountains, and I had acres where I could run. Free and clear and it was all so perfect. And then my family died, and I came back here, back to the pack my parents ran away from, because Aunt Astrid, my mother's sister, was the only one who could take me in, the only one who knew who I was and how to teach me. And she wouldn't leave the pack, so I had to come back too.
If I'd stayed, if my parents hadn't died or if I'd managed to figure out some way to fend for myself, maybe I'd be in college right now. Or maybe working somewhere, pretending I was "normal", whatever normal is. I'd have a boyfriend (human?). Maybe I'd have gone roaming around the country, trying to find another loup-garou -- there has to be some small pack in America, right? Somewhere? There has to be someone else who left the Old Country and broke free at some point. Maybe if I'd found them, I wouldn't be so alone.
(Except there isn't. We're the only ones left. Nobody's ever found any loup-garou anywhere else. We've looked. There just aren't any.)
It sounds silly to call myself alone when I'm surrounded by my pack. My family. Except they're not my family, not where it counts. They're just people who share blood with me. If they were family, they'd care about me for who I am, not what they think I can give them. And they really don't. They want me because I'm one of the pack, because my parents defied them and left and now I've had to come crawling back with my tail between my legs and pretend to be a loyal daughter of the pack.
But my parents taught me to think for myself. I'm not going to dishonor their memory by going back to everything they left behind. I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go, but that doesn't mean I'm going to roll over and show my throat or my belly.
I just wish I wasn't so lonely.
But you're here, you're helping.