lone wolf

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
Come on a journey as Swift, try her luck as a lone wolf.

Submitted: October 21, 2012

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Submitted: October 21, 2012



The air hangs heavily with the sent of nectar, as I breath in the sickly sweat breeze, I feel a sheen of sweat break out on my upper lip. My too pale skin emphasizes the tired bags under my eyes, and the over ripe tomato splats sitting without complaint on my crisping cheeks. The days are filled with a bitter sun, humid air and over powerful tong paralyzing scents, mile walks, that make my legs turn to jelly, and almost collapse on the floor, where almost every long dragging day, I manage to rise from, one or twice, then plummet down in to the fresh dewed grass for my long awaited nap. Yeh, well that’s the daily routine. Nothing ever happens, just that. Running from life, in to danger, in to? Anything really. Could be from man eating bears, to werewolves, to…werewolves, well only I found a mirror! As I continue across the path, I am aware that I am making to much noise for my own comfort, any wolf in a five mile radius could hear me and pass the message of my sighting to my old pack ninety miles away, but I don’t want to be the one to make any reckless decisions. I decide that I am too far in to the dense north eastern forests to be seen, I hope. And I guess that there won’t be any body walking there dog out this far. Just to be sure I flick my head around with inhuman speed, my pale grey eyes survey the area, and come back with good news, no people in this clearing. As for the rest of my kind, I haven’t smelt them for miles. Just to be safe I duck behind a blackberry bush. As I let my senses flow, the noises of the woods rise in to a crowd of bickering insects, the smells shoot in from the distance, sweet roses, the salty stench of the near by sea. All the wonders, the freedom. I crouch down on the floor, I feel the soft grass tickling my fingers as the blood pumps through my body, the wind brushes against my hair, that has now grown in to a thick silky mane. The thud of my heart against my chest steadies me, I take a deep consuming breath, and open my eyes. Every thing inside me changes yet my eyes stay the same, the washed out grey. The kind that reminds you of lonely days trapped in side as the frosty ringlets of rain pelt against the window. But the wonder to be free. It makes every thing else seem worthless. I stand there in all my pride, a tall wolf with fur the colour of ash, a proportioned face that often wears a smug smirk, all of this hangs in distant memory, as I climb through the clustered forest, as I pass the trees whisper, as If calling out my name. They call out lost futures, that only they understand. Funny things trees, I can speak every language from elephant to gopher, but I can’t speak tree, they way they talk, it’s a jumble of transfixed mumbles and clicks, whistles, movements, all to complicated for even a wolfs mind, it’s like they mean to confuse us, and if they are they do a mighty good job at it to. I block out there voices, the pesky sounds shoot me like led bullets, puching holes in my mind. Crimson leaves, scatter slilenty along the floor, the trees warriors, in there leafy vained suits, they feel comforting as they brush against my feet.

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