09-25-2008, 10:04 PM
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Hello! 
It was like another set of chains in a way. Another place of mystery and fog that he could not leave, though the things that held him back were easier to understand than the things that had tied him in place in the past. "The winter would kill you," he'd been told. "You wouldn't survive." He couldn't pretend that he could still stand on his own anymore, but it was less a pride issue and more of that old self-disgust and self-hatred. Why should anyone else burden themselves with his existence there? This pack had no obligation. These trees were not his family. This fog was still not familiar. And he didn't want to be there.
Laruku was on four legs because it was easier to balance that way. It had been weeks since he had last seen anything, but he still felt unaccustomed and stupid. Vulnerable and weak. Staying unshifted in a pack full of humanized werewolves did not help and the voices all towered over him, but he found it preferable to feeling along tree trunks to find his way through unfamiliar territory. Honestly, he had never felt so goddamn self-conscious in all his life. It was too much irony for him to handle. The coyotewolf made his way back towards the sickly cabin because he had no where else to be. He didn't know where Ahren was, or where Rachias was, or where anyone else was, but it wasn't like he could offer much aside from bleak conversation anyway. He could not help build a house, and he could not help hunt or cook. The breeze was against him and he heard no noise, so he sat by the fire none the wiser of someone else's presence. He was a blind man that was not used to being blind.
It was like another set of chains in a way. Another place of mystery and fog that he could not leave, though the things that held him back were easier to understand than the things that had tied him in place in the past. "The winter would kill you," he'd been told. "You wouldn't survive." He couldn't pretend that he could still stand on his own anymore, but it was less a pride issue and more of that old self-disgust and self-hatred. Why should anyone else burden themselves with his existence there? This pack had no obligation. These trees were not his family. This fog was still not familiar. And he didn't want to be there.
Laruku was on four legs because it was easier to balance that way. It had been weeks since he had last seen anything, but he still felt unaccustomed and stupid. Vulnerable and weak. Staying unshifted in a pack full of humanized werewolves did not help and the voices all towered over him, but he found it preferable to feeling along tree trunks to find his way through unfamiliar territory. Honestly, he had never felt so goddamn self-conscious in all his life. It was too much irony for him to handle. The coyotewolf made his way back towards the sickly cabin because he had no where else to be. He didn't know where Ahren was, or where Rachias was, or where anyone else was, but it wasn't like he could offer much aside from bleak conversation anyway. He could not help build a house, and he could not help hunt or cook. The breeze was against him and he heard no noise, so he sat by the fire none the wiser of someone else's presence. He was a blind man that was not used to being blind.