Alone (Werewolf Story)

To Make Up For My Evils

(A/N) I haven't really been feeling this story, and I haven't updated in a long time. I don't know if anyone even reads my garbage, but if you do, thank you. I don't get any comments, but every view makes me happy. I would like to sincerely apologize for abandoning this story, however I thought that the characters weren't complex enough. Here's a little to make up for it. ~~Mimi

I dragged, foot after foot, determined to finish the hike I set out on this morning. I could hardly feel my toes, figuring by the time I got back to my home I'd be nearing frostbite. My legs felt like lead, yet I managed to keep my breath quiet. I wasn't one to pant. One foot after another, I kept telling myself. Yet after awhile I wasn't aware of time or my surroundings. Just this horrid hiking trail and the rhythm of my breathing. Later I wouldn't recall these endless hours, couldn't recount the sun slowly setting and sounds starting to come from the forest. But then, I woke up from my dreamlike state as I tripped on a branch, falling flat on my face. I almost thought I wouldn't remember that either, but the whole prospect of thinking ruled that idea out of my head. I slowly rose to my feet, and felt a huge head rush. As my eyes danced on black spots, I tried to stand up. Yet when I finally regained eyesight, what I saw would stick in my brain forever.

Those furious fangs, glowered at me with such intensity that I felt my blood freeze. They weren't aimed at me, but seemed like a warning. My gaze traveled up, horrified by the gigantic beast that stood in front of me. It looked like a wolf on steroids. It's fur was perfectly white, no dirt or twigs. Then my gaze traveled up into it's eyes and I froze, my blood calming and my heartbeat normal. All rational thought was gone, as I looked into deep golden eyes. The wolf didn't even look like it was from this world, with its majestic eyes and heavenly color. I knew I was breathing my last breaths, and as an attempt to take good use of them, memorized the wolf's eyes. Then I gasped for one final breath.

Two hands pulled me away just before I could do it. I was never marked as someone with suicidal thoughts, or depressed at all. But after that day I wasn't the same person in people's eyes. People would ask why I didn't run. I was the depressed one. I wasn't depressed until everyone started treating me as such. After the experience with the wolf I wanted something better, something no one else could understand. Eventually I tried to let go, live a normal life. I lived a boring life. When I died, I was still looking for something better. I guess I never let go. And I never found that wolf again either.

And that was the story of the day I met my mate