Feral

16

Night had fallen eight times since they left that area, they went deeper into the mountains, the air was thinner and food was scarcer, but they'd had worse before. Slept evaded her the first three nights, the fourth day she buckled under the exhaustion and was out for two days.

During that time she remembered none of her dreams, only that twice she awoke with her leg searing in pain, only to fall unconscious again. Her wound festered during that time, as well, and when she awoke for good it was pulling angrily at the stitches that bound her flesh together.

Her entire body was hot, and she glistened with perspiration as the wound continued to fester. The cold water from the streams helped ease the pain, but she could only sit in the water for so long until her body became numb and stiff.

The wound wasn't as bad as it had been, but still oozed and hurt. The cold water helped with it

She hadn't been able to shift during this time either, and her skin crawled with the need, but shifting wasn't an option, her wound would open again and only get worse.

How worse could it get? She pondered. It's already awful as it is. A shift won't hurt.

She was wrong, in her attempt a hot, burning pain tore through her leg, the muscles were too damaged and could not sustain the turn, blood ran profusely from her leg at its attempt to form into something else

In the end it was only her arms and torso that could fully become wolf, and she was forced to turn back, panting from the exertion.

Two more nights passed until she could walk again without the awful pain shooting down her leg. Thorough examination noted that the edges weren't red and inflamed as they had been, and were, thankfully, no longer oozing.

The wound was still warm, and tender to the touch, but it wouldn't affect her movements much anymore.

The other day, her wolves had brought back a large bear, and two deers, enough to feed the pack for a few days. She had what was left because in her agony, her appetite avoided her like the plague.

Her wolves had traveled far to hunt, this area did not allow for much life, but it was necessary.

There was only a single way in and out of this area, they'd have the advantage of they were attacked, but also a disadvantage if their enemies were to pass their threshold.

She wouldn't try shifting again until the stitches no longer pulled at her leg, it would be too risky and too painful.

This place was colder too, not as cold as it was when they first relocated, but the warmer weather only hinted itself through bright, gray, skies, and slight whispers through the chilly wind.

The pack, however, thrived, even having to travel far for food. They hadn't been bothered by the twolegs since they relocated for the second time.

Their last home had been beautiful, and provided so much freedom for them, but it would forever be harrowing, unjust death would cling to the soil for moons to come.

This new place would be their home for as long as it allowed.