It had been months, maybe over a year?. Yes, well over a year. It was hard to remember exactly when. Easier to feel the pain, he didn't have to remember that. It stayed with him like a wound that would never heal, infected with bitterness of betrayal.
He was unpredictable, what was the saying? Never hold out your hand to a wounded wolf - If it wasn't a saying it sure as hell should be! Hiding in the shadows, he watched. Dreading a reminder of what he lost. Why did it still hurt. Why was it so hard to trust again, to devote himself, like he had done before. Why when he thought of it, was there only one face he always saw.
He wasn't the first choice, he knew that he never was. It didn't matter, you can't help who you bond to. It's out of your control. It's not something you can plan and it can't be forced. It's unconditional, like a storm that can't be stopped. There is no obvious beginning and no end in sight; and when you think its finally over, One sight - sends the black clouds reeling and thunder ready to crash down and rip what little control you thought you had out from under you.
Is it love? yes but not in the way you might think it. It's not forged out of desire or lust. Its not forged for convenience, or for show. It's the hand that helps you up when you falter or fall. It's the voice that answer's, when you tell it, your darkest secrets. Its a bond of friendship forged over many years. They know your good points, they know your bad, it doesn't matter, they cease to exists, because you trust them. And with that trust, you give your loyalty. There is nohing they can do, that you wouldn't stand by their side through.
The silver wolf circled round on himself, the muscles under his long coarse fur twitching , as his forelegs dropped to the ground followed by his hind legs. Lowering his large head, he rested it upon his front paw's. A soft gluteal whimper, heaved up through his chest . He was tired. It haunted him. It didn't matter how far he ran, or deep in any forest he hid. He wished he could forget. He hated they could so easily make him the feel the pain, the anger , the betrayal and loss.
Instantly the silver wolf's muscles flexed ,razor sharp dewclaws cutting deep into the ground, as it sprang to stand upon his large padded paws. Anger burned inside him a lust to rip and shred apart anything that got close. His large head lowered, sitting in line with his front haunches. Ears pinned back tight against his scull as the fur between his hackles began to rise in a line along his back. snout twitched, lips quivered, curling back, to show gleaming white incisors coated in saliva as a deep gluteal snarl signaled his impending spring. Muscles twitched growing taught, upon his flanks, like his tail held rigid in a straight line behind him. Slowly his head dropped below his front haunches, tilting to let his jaws spread wide, snapping at the air in a bid to rip the anger and hurt apart.
He wanted to spring, to launch himself through the air, tear through their flesh and deep into their soul. It would be so easy to hate, he wished he could. But it was the wound that still festered, that bond of love and loyalty, betrayal. The sight of them appearing before him, like a shotgun firing at close range! Were they doing it on purpose?
Digging deep the silver wolf's dewclaws cut into the ground, swift and slight the lean of his poise, muscles flexed under the coarse fur springing him forward as his his long lean body turned, darting for the cover of the Forrest, fallen leafs and dirt untouched by his passing, as he disappeared, like a Ghost between the trees. Trying to outrun the demons, of his past that haunted him.
