Finding Myself in Napoli

I stood at the bow of the brig, watching as land finally came into view. The captain bellowing commands to his men from the quarter deck to prepare for docking; we'd finally reached our destination - Napoli. More than happy to finally be able to dig me feet into soil I descended from my perch facing sailors going about their orders. Once in my living quarters I pause, and looked around the shabby cabin - I wasn't part of the crew so my living quarters were only marginally better. Packing my belongings didn't take long; I only traveled with a satchel holding what I needed after I was exiled from my place of birth.

My name, Hassan, of Azilal: a mountainous village in Morocco. That was until I was sentenced to exile. I was born to no mother or father, found as a new born wrapped in a black garb at the base of mountain range. The clan that found me was nomadic mountain dwellers. They gave me the essentials to survive until I could provide for myself. They weren't caring or unkind, I wasn't one of them a fact I grew to appreciate. When I came of age to shift I did it alone, I hunted alone, and I lived alone.

I grew from boy to man, learning the history of our people and training as a warrior, and I excelled far beyond any expectations of those who found me. I know not my lineage, but as a boy I overheard whisper of my being stronger than normal wolves and an unwillingness to be commanded: a disposition few wolves are inclined to, but cannot refuse.

I'm jerked from my reverie as the ship is being docked, we're here. Above deck the men start unloading the cargo for market as I try to stay out of their way. I give a curt nod towards the brig's rotund captain, a merchant, for passage onboard his vessel. As if he had a choice. I strap the satchel across my chest, and drape the black shawl from my childhood over my head and shoulders cloaking my face. In the shade of the ports marketplace I stroll taking in the scents and sights.

I smelled them before I saw them, passing by a few members of the regional clan. Quickly, I cross over to a stand with different perfumes and oils to mask my scent a little. No need in alerting the locals just yet.

Continuing my walk further into the town of Montecalle I find lodging. Entering the modest place of refuge I approach the elderly owner and remove my shawl. Startled, the owner takes a step back and gulps. This reaction isn't uncommon outside of my community, and sometimes even within it. I stood approximately 1.95 meters (6'4") and had constantly moving pools of liquid amber for eyes. Skin a rich dark caramel brown. My face, though called captivating by a bold admirer, had claw marks starting above my left brow to my cheek and lip. Hair, that stopped between my shoulder blades; as thick as a lion's mane and blacker than the feathers of a raven.

All in all I could see why I was given a wide berth on most occasions. My steady gaze penetrates the woman as she stutters:

"What can I do for you today young sir"

"I'd like lodging...for an indefinite stay." I state while looking around at the walls. Not in too bad of a condition with the added bonus of being on solid ground and not a rocking ship. The woman shuffles to the back a retrieves a set of keys she timidly places in my hands, and tells me where to go.

Knowing my teeth will give her a fright I grin wide. Making sure my naturally enlarged canines show and reply, "Thank you for the hospitality," to which she nearly faints. I chuckle amused.

Up in the room where I'll be laying my head for the time being, I walk over to the window covered with a drawn curtain and stare at the view below me. After a while, in my peripheral I sense someone staring up into my window at me.

"Humph...seems someone's a little curious" I mutter to myself, and walk away from the window.

Night has fallen and I could finally release this pent up tension within myself. Tonight I run free after nearly two months at sea. I sneak out of the lodge in only a robe, no need in ruining my only garbs, and head towards a valley away from prying eyes. Under the blanket of the moon I shift into my true self, a mountain wolf. Large and powerful packed with muscle to take down prey or opposing enemies, but lithe to scale the face of the steepest mountains I called home.

My coat was the same color my hair, with my muzzle and around my eyes being dusted ash gray. Visible were my battle wounds, and most prominent were those on my face. I ran. How long I have no idea, crossing creeks and land that stretched more miles. Panting, I came to a halt near a stream to rehydrate making sure to stay down wind of the local clan patrolling the area. Relieved of the pent up tension, I trotted back to where I left my robe and shifted back.

I sensed him before he spoke from behind me.

"What are you doing out this late, and so far from town sir," spoken in his Italian accent, oozing a certain appeal many would find entrancing.

"Going for an late night stroll" I spoke with disinterest.

"What's your name...sir," this time he wasn't as cordial. Maybe it was the fact I still had my back towards him, smirking, who could tell for sure.

I knew he was a wolf from his smell alone, a sentry. I answered, "Not of your concern." Bored with this turn of events I walk away back to the lodge to turn in before the sun came up. I'd been out till dawn.