Marcus
Crouching low between the trees and shrubbery, I hide myself from my prey. It scans its surrounding area before returning its attention to the hanging fruit. Oblivious to the predator lurking in the shadows. I put forward one paw, slowly to ensure I don't make any noise. I move closer, my large form beginning to break from the bush line. A stick breaks under my weight, grabbing the rabbit's attention. The fruit forgotten as it takes off on the run for its life. The hunt begins.
I push after it, but not to my fullest ability. I could catch the rabbit with ease for I am not an ordinary wolf. But I am not hunting for survival, I'm hunting for sport. To feel the rush of chasing after prey in the safety of the forest, far from human eyes. Hundreds of years ago, wolves didn't have to hide. We didn't have to worry about humans, we were the scary story told to children to keep away from the forest. We were once giant beasts that lived free under the moon. We were kings, queens, warriors, and healers. Our pups were able to run freely and shift safely under the protection of their pack. Now we have become the hunted. Our numbers weakened by their advanced weaponry and industrialization. Our kingdoms cut down and ground to a fraction of their former glory. If what remained of our packs wanted to survive, they had to run. It hurt me to say goodbye to them, but I couldn't leave this place.
I let the rabbit get ahead, let it believe that it may outrun me. I'll allow it a few seconds of false hope. The brush gets thicker up ahead, and the rabbit is heading straight for it. Not a bad escape. Too bad it won't make it that far. I pick up the pace a little and snatch the rabbit before it can hop into the shrubbery. One quick bite and it hangs limp between my jaws. I didn't wish for it to suffer unnecessarily.
The sun was starting to set, the sky shifting from calm waters to dancing flames of orange, pink and purple. This was her favorite time of day. She used to say that the sky looked the most beautiful when it changed colors like this. As for me, my favorite was the night. When the sky reminded me of the color of her hair, and the moonlight made her emerald eyes glow even brighter. But still, I stop to admire every sunset as if she were here to see it too. It has been over 200 years since she was taken from me. But no time could take away the memory of her beauty.
I walk through the trees until I find myself back home. A cottage I built in a clearing in the forest. The very same clearing where we mated, where I made her mine. She agreed to be my wife and queen in this very spot. And that's why I could never leave. If I was to be forced to live on this earth without her, then I will live my life in solitude clinging to the last thing I had of her. Our memories. I'll never forget my father's eyes when I told him what made this part of the forest so special to me. He had been trying to convince me to leave with him and what remained of our pack, but he relented. Though it broke his heart to do so.
I dropped the dead rabbit next to the others. I caught six this afternoon, enough to make a decent dinner. I close my eyes and focus on the shift.
The bones in my legs, back and ribs start to break as they readjust themselves into proper place. The brown fur sheds, revealing my tanned skin and my snout cracks as my skull forms into human shape. I remember as a pup, the pain of the first shift was incredible. That was when it took at least fifteen minutes to shift completely. But the pain subsides when you spend hundreds of years getting used to it. The shift barely takes a minute and I stand on human legs, nude and covered in dirt and a little bit of blood. I go in the house to wash up before I start preparing my meal.
I skin the rabbits while my vegetables were cooking over the fire. After I finish cooking and eating, I lay by the fire, looking up at the stars. The moon shines as bright this evening as it did the last night I laid in this spot with my mate in my arms. Two hundred years have done nothing to diminish the ache in my chest.
The loss of a mate was the most devastating thing that could happen to a wolf, something all prayed to never have to go through. Some haven't been so lucky, and death is the more blissful reprieve of the pain of their absence, that is if the madness doesn't claim you first. I begged for death, chased after it wishing to taste the sweet relief where I would be reunited with her once more. I tried so many times, but I was never lucky. It seemed the moon goddess was bent on tormenting me, forcing me to live on without my heart. When I accepted that death would not greet me, I waited patiently for the moon madness to overtake me. Then my father would have no choice but to put me down like a sickly mutt. I couldn't be granted that either. I'm as sane and miserable as the day she disappeared from my arms.
I was so angry for so long, drowning in my agony. I blamed the moon goddess for so long, wondering what I did to deserve such cruelty and why she wouldn't just let me die. Why she wouldn't just let us be together again. But the moon goddess didn't deserve my hatred. She's not the one who killed my mate. She gave my mate a better fate than lying broken on the floor in her own blood, our child's blood. She brought her home, where she could watch over me.
Every night, I howl to the moon, calling out her name and hoping somehow, she could hear me and everything I wished I could tell her. That I'm sorry I never found her killer, that I dream of her and our child every night, and that I would give anything to be with them again.
A gentle breeze glides over me, the scent of vanilla, amber and jasmine caressing my face. Tears form in my eyes at the scent. I haven't smelled it since that fateful night, but the centuries could never rid that delicious aroma from my memory. My mate's scent. My heart flutters as I greedily inhale it. It's like she's here with me. I look up at the moon and think for a second that in a way, she is. That thought alone gives me more warmth than I have felt in 200 years.
With teary eyes, I look up to the moon and howl for my mate. My beautiful mate. I'm surprised to hear a howl back. Faint and far, but prominent. I allow myself a second to pretend that it is her, returning my call. I smile as the tears fall over my cheeks and howl once more.
'I miss you so much, Ellie.'