today is wip amnesty for me, I suppose
This was supposed to be the beginning of my Werewolf Big Bang. Which is due, like, tomorrow and this ain't getting done. So here. I'm done with it.
“Why didn't you take a human child?” I asked, looking up at Sam. I sat on the floor. It felt more natural than a chair.
“That would've been wrong,” Sam said in his gruff way.
A human mother would have told. A human mother would've gotten the police involved, and Sam would get in trouble. I learned that later.
The only ones who knew I was gone were the wolves, and no one listened to wolves.
*
Let me start my story by saying this: magic is real. It's disruptive. It's unnatural. But it exists.
I suppose I'll begin by saying I was small and sickly when I was born. My parents probably did not expect me to survive. But I'm a fighter. One thing I know, deep in my bones, is that you'll never have anything worth keeping unless you fight for it.
I fought for my life. Sam, my adopted father, fed me when my mother pushed me to the side and I couldn't nurse. Every few hours, Sam gave me formula from a small bottle. Slowly, I grew stronger. My mother stopped ignoring me. But the bond I had with Sam stayed.
Sam had no children of his own. He was an old man, in his seventies, and had never married. He had dedicated his life to the Preserve, to the wolves. He had never had time for family, and then when he wanted them, he was too old.
I guess this is why he took me from my parents and worked magic on me.
I was born a wolf. Sam named me Fáelán, which means 'little wolf'. I stayed small, even when I grew, but Sam took care of me when the pack did not.
I didn't fit in with the pack. I wanted to, tried to. But in the end, because Sam spent so much time with me, I was perceived as somewhat outside the pack. I smelled different, moved different. My bond with Sam marked me as something other than pack.
I remember feeling alone before Sam took me away.
*
“Why did you take a wolf? Why not a dog, or a cat?” I asked. The hard seat of the chair was foreign. I slipped to the floor again, ignoring Sam's disapproving look.
“Because wolves are what I know.”
*
Magic. That's what Sam did. He worked magic on me and made me human.
I remember being human for the first time, being bare. I was scared. I tried to lay my ears back and tuck my tail between my legs. I couldn't. I whined, and Sam tried to soothe me with words I didn't understand.
I couldn't smell anything. My hearing was muted. My eyes weren't as sharp. I was afraid. I crouched on the bare wood of Sam's cabin floor and began to cry.
Crying was my first human act.
*
Okay, enough of that. It sucked, I cried, but I got over it.
I learned English fast enough, talking in full sentences after only a few weeks. Sam taught me everything he could. I was young, about ten in human years. I learned to read and write, learned math and history of humans. I learned about religions and philosophy - everything. I soaked it up.
I think maybe it was my way of dealing with being human. I immersed myself in learning. But underneath it all, I missed being a wolf. I felt like a wolf in human skin, like I was wearing a costume.
I still spent time with my pack. But they weren't my pack anymore, even though I craved belonging. I fed them treats and pet their noses. I rubbed my face against their fur. If they felt anything towards me other than vague affection, they didn't let on.
Sam decided 'little wolf' didn't fit me anymore. He called me Frank, and to this day Frank is my name.
*
The thing that kept me sane during those first months was the full moon. Humans have it partly right - the full moon is sacred to wolves. It has a power over us, stronger than any magic a human could cast, stronger than any new human knowledge. It was during the full moon that I would revert to wolf form, running beside my pack and sniffing the scent of night, howling in happiness to be back where I belonged. But it only lasted three nights a month, and then it was back to being human again.
Still, those nights were special to me. I felt like myself again. Even when my pack didn't accept me completely, I still felt a kinship with them, running beside them through the woods of the preserve.
Sam didn't like the change, didn't want me going out as a wolf. He was frustrated that his magic wasn't strong enough to counter the moon. But I cried and pawed at the door, and something in him must have given in, because he relented and let me outside to run.
Running as a wolf isn't like running as a human. There is nothing I can compare it to, nothing like the snow under the pads of my feet, nothing like the scent of the woods at night in my nose. Here I smelled pine, and there I smelled rabbit, and overpowering it all was the heady magic of the moon.
When I found my pack, they welcomed me, and I licked my mother's face. The others circled around me, sniffing and yipping, and then when they were satisfied we set off on a run.
We ran alongside the stream until we came to a natural dam, where my father and mother caught a beaver unawares. It was a fat, thick animal, with plenty of meat on it. Being the alphas, my parents ate first, ripping into the beaver's belly.
I ate last. It was then that I realized that I was on the low end, not exactly the omega, but still an outsider and not part of the true pack anymore. I should not have had such realizations, but I found that my human side was thinking, even while I was in my natural form.
I laid down on the snow with my hunk of meat and whuffed softly, giving my head a shake to clear it. The beaver was too gamey for my taste suddenly, too wild. I wished for some fresh berries to cut through the flavor and cleanse my palate.
Watching the pack eat and lick their chops made me feel suddenly nauseated, though I couldn't say why. Maybe it was the meat and maybe it was being so obviously outside of where I wanted to be. The pack had welcomed me, but as a visitor and not as the missing piece of the whole.
I left the meat there in the snow and wandered back through the woods on my own. The sounds and scents of the night no longer gave me joy. I came back eventually to Sam's cabin and scratched on the door.
Sam let me in but said nothing. I was grateful for that.
I curled up on the woven rug in front of the fire. It was against my nature to be so close, but the magic had changed me, given me human sensibilities and human comforts.
The snow on my fur melted away and I shook off, then resettled on the rug. I stared into the flames and wished for things wolves never thought of wishing for.
*
Daylight came, and I changed back into human form. I remembered the night before, and stayed silent, even when Sam talked to me.
“Are you hungry?” Sam asked. I shook my head but my traitorous stomach grumbled for food. Sam smiled a little and said, “I'll put on some bacon and eggs.”
The scent of the meat gave me a queasy feeling, and when my plate came I ignored the bacon in favor of the eggs and toast. Strange behavior for a wolf, I know, but I felt less like a wolf now and more like a displaced human. Displaced because I had nowhere to belong.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked gruffly.
I looked up at him in surprise. Talking about what I was feeling was a thought I had never had before. I didn't think I could. I wished for someone to understand, but maybe I could explain and that someone could be Sam.
So I studied his face, the lines and the spots, the shaggy gray hair falling down over his forehead. His eyes were as gray as his hair. He was so human.
I shook my head and looked down.
*
Time went by so fast I barely noticed; only the moon kept it in perspective. I continued to live with Sam and learn, and during the day we cared for the wolves or led tours of the preserve. Visitors seemed charmed that such a young boy knew so much about the animals. I knew more than Sam did when it came to the lives of wolves.
But one day, someone asked the question, “Why aren't you in school?” and although Sam said quickly, “Frank's home schooled,” the seed had been planted in my mind.
I wanted to learn more than Sam could teach me. I wanted to see other people besides Sam and the visitors. I wanted to be with children my own age.
And maybe, just maybe, I wanted to get away from the wolves. I didn't fit in with them anymore. I wanted to find a new pack, and thought perhaps I could find that with the kids at a school.
So I asked Sam to send me. When that didn't work, I begged.
“Please,” I said, and gave him the biggest eyes I could.
“You don't have any paperwork,” Sam explained. “No birth certificate, no social security card, no immunizations. You can't go.”
I pouted for days, weeks. Sam could turn wolves into children, but he couldn't forge papers?
AND THEN FRANK GREW UP, RAN THE WOLF PRESERVE ALONE, AND ONE DAY THE PHOTOGRAPHER GERARD WAY SHOWED UP. THEY FELL IN LOVE, THE END.
Original post |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth
“Why didn't you take a human child?” I asked, looking up at Sam. I sat on the floor. It felt more natural than a chair.
“That would've been wrong,” Sam said in his gruff way.
A human mother would have told. A human mother would've gotten the police involved, and Sam would get in trouble. I learned that later.
The only ones who knew I was gone were the wolves, and no one listened to wolves.
*
Let me start my story by saying this: magic is real. It's disruptive. It's unnatural. But it exists.
I suppose I'll begin by saying I was small and sickly when I was born. My parents probably did not expect me to survive. But I'm a fighter. One thing I know, deep in my bones, is that you'll never have anything worth keeping unless you fight for it.
I fought for my life. Sam, my adopted father, fed me when my mother pushed me to the side and I couldn't nurse. Every few hours, Sam gave me formula from a small bottle. Slowly, I grew stronger. My mother stopped ignoring me. But the bond I had with Sam stayed.
Sam had no children of his own. He was an old man, in his seventies, and had never married. He had dedicated his life to the Preserve, to the wolves. He had never had time for family, and then when he wanted them, he was too old.
I guess this is why he took me from my parents and worked magic on me.
I was born a wolf. Sam named me Fáelán, which means 'little wolf'. I stayed small, even when I grew, but Sam took care of me when the pack did not.
I didn't fit in with the pack. I wanted to, tried to. But in the end, because Sam spent so much time with me, I was perceived as somewhat outside the pack. I smelled different, moved different. My bond with Sam marked me as something other than pack.
I remember feeling alone before Sam took me away.
*
“Why did you take a wolf? Why not a dog, or a cat?” I asked. The hard seat of the chair was foreign. I slipped to the floor again, ignoring Sam's disapproving look.
“Because wolves are what I know.”
*
Magic. That's what Sam did. He worked magic on me and made me human.
I remember being human for the first time, being bare. I was scared. I tried to lay my ears back and tuck my tail between my legs. I couldn't. I whined, and Sam tried to soothe me with words I didn't understand.
I couldn't smell anything. My hearing was muted. My eyes weren't as sharp. I was afraid. I crouched on the bare wood of Sam's cabin floor and began to cry.
Crying was my first human act.
*
Okay, enough of that. It sucked, I cried, but I got over it.
I learned English fast enough, talking in full sentences after only a few weeks. Sam taught me everything he could. I was young, about ten in human years. I learned to read and write, learned math and history of humans. I learned about religions and philosophy - everything. I soaked it up.
I think maybe it was my way of dealing with being human. I immersed myself in learning. But underneath it all, I missed being a wolf. I felt like a wolf in human skin, like I was wearing a costume.
I still spent time with my pack. But they weren't my pack anymore, even though I craved belonging. I fed them treats and pet their noses. I rubbed my face against their fur. If they felt anything towards me other than vague affection, they didn't let on.
Sam decided 'little wolf' didn't fit me anymore. He called me Frank, and to this day Frank is my name.
*
The thing that kept me sane during those first months was the full moon. Humans have it partly right - the full moon is sacred to wolves. It has a power over us, stronger than any magic a human could cast, stronger than any new human knowledge. It was during the full moon that I would revert to wolf form, running beside my pack and sniffing the scent of night, howling in happiness to be back where I belonged. But it only lasted three nights a month, and then it was back to being human again.
Still, those nights were special to me. I felt like myself again. Even when my pack didn't accept me completely, I still felt a kinship with them, running beside them through the woods of the preserve.
Sam didn't like the change, didn't want me going out as a wolf. He was frustrated that his magic wasn't strong enough to counter the moon. But I cried and pawed at the door, and something in him must have given in, because he relented and let me outside to run.
Running as a wolf isn't like running as a human. There is nothing I can compare it to, nothing like the snow under the pads of my feet, nothing like the scent of the woods at night in my nose. Here I smelled pine, and there I smelled rabbit, and overpowering it all was the heady magic of the moon.
When I found my pack, they welcomed me, and I licked my mother's face. The others circled around me, sniffing and yipping, and then when they were satisfied we set off on a run.
We ran alongside the stream until we came to a natural dam, where my father and mother caught a beaver unawares. It was a fat, thick animal, with plenty of meat on it. Being the alphas, my parents ate first, ripping into the beaver's belly.
I ate last. It was then that I realized that I was on the low end, not exactly the omega, but still an outsider and not part of the true pack anymore. I should not have had such realizations, but I found that my human side was thinking, even while I was in my natural form.
I laid down on the snow with my hunk of meat and whuffed softly, giving my head a shake to clear it. The beaver was too gamey for my taste suddenly, too wild. I wished for some fresh berries to cut through the flavor and cleanse my palate.
Watching the pack eat and lick their chops made me feel suddenly nauseated, though I couldn't say why. Maybe it was the meat and maybe it was being so obviously outside of where I wanted to be. The pack had welcomed me, but as a visitor and not as the missing piece of the whole.
I left the meat there in the snow and wandered back through the woods on my own. The sounds and scents of the night no longer gave me joy. I came back eventually to Sam's cabin and scratched on the door.
Sam let me in but said nothing. I was grateful for that.
I curled up on the woven rug in front of the fire. It was against my nature to be so close, but the magic had changed me, given me human sensibilities and human comforts.
The snow on my fur melted away and I shook off, then resettled on the rug. I stared into the flames and wished for things wolves never thought of wishing for.
*
Daylight came, and I changed back into human form. I remembered the night before, and stayed silent, even when Sam talked to me.
“Are you hungry?” Sam asked. I shook my head but my traitorous stomach grumbled for food. Sam smiled a little and said, “I'll put on some bacon and eggs.”
The scent of the meat gave me a queasy feeling, and when my plate came I ignored the bacon in favor of the eggs and toast. Strange behavior for a wolf, I know, but I felt less like a wolf now and more like a displaced human. Displaced because I had nowhere to belong.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked gruffly.
I looked up at him in surprise. Talking about what I was feeling was a thought I had never had before. I didn't think I could. I wished for someone to understand, but maybe I could explain and that someone could be Sam.
So I studied his face, the lines and the spots, the shaggy gray hair falling down over his forehead. His eyes were as gray as his hair. He was so human.
I shook my head and looked down.
*
Time went by so fast I barely noticed; only the moon kept it in perspective. I continued to live with Sam and learn, and during the day we cared for the wolves or led tours of the preserve. Visitors seemed charmed that such a young boy knew so much about the animals. I knew more than Sam did when it came to the lives of wolves.
But one day, someone asked the question, “Why aren't you in school?” and although Sam said quickly, “Frank's home schooled,” the seed had been planted in my mind.
I wanted to learn more than Sam could teach me. I wanted to see other people besides Sam and the visitors. I wanted to be with children my own age.
And maybe, just maybe, I wanted to get away from the wolves. I didn't fit in with them anymore. I wanted to find a new pack, and thought perhaps I could find that with the kids at a school.
So I asked Sam to send me. When that didn't work, I begged.
“Please,” I said, and gave him the biggest eyes I could.
“You don't have any paperwork,” Sam explained. “No birth certificate, no social security card, no immunizations. You can't go.”
I pouted for days, weeks. Sam could turn wolves into children, but he couldn't forge papers?
AND THEN FRANK GREW UP, RAN THE WOLF PRESERVE ALONE, AND ONE DAY THE PHOTOGRAPHER GERARD WAY SHOWED UP. THEY FELL IN LOVE, THE END.
Original post |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth