side by side they go down the road, it's my road, once more alone
And the thing is, there have been stories about loup-garoux who have fallen in love with humans before. They don't end happily. Everyone winds up dead, or there's a horrible tragedy, or the human realizes they're terrified or the loup-garou realizes they miss the pack and the next thing you know: rocks fall, everyone dies, bang, another lesson learned and another scare story to tell the cubs.
Yeah, okay, I started halfway through the thought there. I've been thinking of Aiden all day again. Still. Aiden and Gabriel and Rafe and all the things I'm supposed to be doing and all the things I want to be doing and all the things I don't know enough to want yet because I've never seen them.
Gabriel disgusts me. Well -- it's not disgust. Fear, maybe? Wariness. He'd be a good enough leader, maybe, if I could overlook some of the things he did, but I can't. Those humans are people, too. The loup-garoux aren't the only True Folk in the world. We have to learn how to live side-by-side with humans, work with them instead of hunting them.
Gabriel holds the pack together. I'll give him that much credit. He's a strong leader, and nobody dares contradict him. He's held this pack for a long time and none of the males have dared challenge him. Even my father ran, rather than fight. (What would have happened if he had? I can make up stories about what would have happend if my father had won pack-right and leader-right from Gabriel and changed our ways slowly, piece by piece, over the years -- but they're just fairy tales.)
No such thing as feminism in a wolf-pack. No such thing as feminism among the loup-garoux, either. One part of me, the part that still keeps contact in the human world -- the part of me that started this journal -- despises that. That's the part that looks at Gabriel when he says he's going to take me as his next mate and wants to run.
That's the part that wants to go and find Aiden and see what stories he believes, and why he believes them, and see whether or not I think that maybe he might be one of the first who could handle knowing the truth and actually accept me.
I sound crazy, don't I? I sound crazy, or delusional, or like I'm playing one giant game of let's-pretend. It's what humans always accuse us of doing or being, whenever we've tried to tell the truth. And then sooner or later, they come with pitchforks or knives or guns trying to kill us before we can kill them.
But I'm not like the stories. I swear to you. You believe me, right? You don't think I'm crazy? Please tell me you don't think I'm crazy.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think, or what to feel. I'm being pulled in different directions all over the place, and all I want is a minute to breathe.
Would Aiden think I'm crazy?
(And why would it matter if he did?)
Yeah, okay, I started halfway through the thought there. I've been thinking of Aiden all day again. Still. Aiden and Gabriel and Rafe and all the things I'm supposed to be doing and all the things I want to be doing and all the things I don't know enough to want yet because I've never seen them.
Gabriel disgusts me. Well -- it's not disgust. Fear, maybe? Wariness. He'd be a good enough leader, maybe, if I could overlook some of the things he did, but I can't. Those humans are people, too. The loup-garoux aren't the only True Folk in the world. We have to learn how to live side-by-side with humans, work with them instead of hunting them.
Gabriel holds the pack together. I'll give him that much credit. He's a strong leader, and nobody dares contradict him. He's held this pack for a long time and none of the males have dared challenge him. Even my father ran, rather than fight. (What would have happened if he had? I can make up stories about what would have happend if my father had won pack-right and leader-right from Gabriel and changed our ways slowly, piece by piece, over the years -- but they're just fairy tales.)
No such thing as feminism in a wolf-pack. No such thing as feminism among the loup-garoux, either. One part of me, the part that still keeps contact in the human world -- the part of me that started this journal -- despises that. That's the part that looks at Gabriel when he says he's going to take me as his next mate and wants to run.
That's the part that wants to go and find Aiden and see what stories he believes, and why he believes them, and see whether or not I think that maybe he might be one of the first who could handle knowing the truth and actually accept me.
I sound crazy, don't I? I sound crazy, or delusional, or like I'm playing one giant game of let's-pretend. It's what humans always accuse us of doing or being, whenever we've tried to tell the truth. And then sooner or later, they come with pitchforks or knives or guns trying to kill us before we can kill them.
But I'm not like the stories. I swear to you. You believe me, right? You don't think I'm crazy? Please tell me you don't think I'm crazy.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think, or what to feel. I'm being pulled in different directions all over the place, and all I want is a minute to breathe.
Would Aiden think I'm crazy?
(And why would it matter if he did?)