Heart of a rogue

* Chapter 2 - survival of the fittest

It had been almost four years since that life-altering day, the day I seized my freedom, snapping the chains of expectation and setting my own path. That choice had changed me, forged me into someone I barely recognized. I was strong, sharper, even ruthless. It was hard, often brutal, and lonely, but that freedom was worth every struggle.

When I left that first day, I ran for miles without stopping, only pausing to drink from rivers or hunt whatever small animals I could catch. I became accustomed to the cold, to the fierce isolation. Rogue life didn't offer warmth or companionship, and rogues didn't live long. But I wasn't bothered; I had control over my life now, which I'd never trade for the smothering safety of a pack. That instinctive need to survive, to keep pushing through each hardship, had driven me forward each day. I even met other rogues occasionally. Sam was one—a friend who roamed in and out of my life when I let him. Believe me, I met some that weren't my friends. 

After two long days of traveling alone, without speaking to anyone, I found a small cave by a lake, hidden by a thick spread of trees. The air smelled clean and unclaimed, and it felt like a gift—a safe haven I could return to when I needed. Yes, I had been here before and it felt safe. I shifted back to human form and shrugged into my tattered clothes, silently noting I'd need to "acquire" some new ones soon. The few things I carried—a small bag, spare clothes, and the occasional trinket—kept me grounded in a life that was constantly on the move.

One morning, two days after I settled in the cave, I heard familiar rustling nearby. I sniffed, but the figure was downwind, out of reach of my scent. I dropped into a defensive stance, ready for anything, but then a brown wolf leapt from the bushes, his gait calm and easygoing. I recognized Sam right away and instantly relaxed, giving him a friendly lick on the muzzle. He returned the greeting, and I heard his gruff voice in my mind.

"Took you long enough," I laughed.

"You travel fast and roll in mud and shit, so it's hard to track you! I only found you because I've been around you enough to know your smell." He sounded a little grumpy, and it made me laugh.

I nudged my head against him and walked past, teasing him by flicking my tail in his face. "Someone hasn't been laid in a few days. You sound frustrated," I teased.

I won't lie—Sam wasn't just a friend, and he wasn't more than that either. He was a friend with benefits. I had needs, just like anyone else, and at twenty years old, it felt natural. Sam wasn't a dominant type, either. He was smaller than most males, more easygoing. Maybe that's why I let him stick around. I couldn't stand controlling types—they reminded me too much of my past.

"Don't tease me, Luci!" he protested, playfully swiping at my face before moving in closer.

I nipped at him and then led him back to the cave. It was warm and private, and I felt a sense of comfort knowing we could enjoy the night without worry.

The following morning, we shifted into human forms and took a dip in the lake, washing away the night before. I watched Sam emerge from the water, his black hair and beard a mess, just like my own tangled hair. "Maybe we can steal a razor?" I said, running a hand through the tangled mess.

Sam hummed in agreement, tugging on his ragged clothes. "Let's get a good haul tonight. We can freshen up for the bonfire the day after tomorrow."

"You're going too, then?" I asked, feeling a flicker of excitement. "I still have to swipe some liquor or something." I groaned. There was always so much to steal, but I couldn't deny the thrill it gave me.

Occasionally, rogues gathered for bonfires, a rare chance to unwind, share food, drink, and enjoy a night without rivalry. I remembered the first one I attended. I'd been young and naive, and two rogues took advantage of that. They tried to overpower me, drunk and careless. They didn't last long, though. I made my first kills that night, and the fearlessness it gave me was something I carried with pride ever since. Now, I knew the game, and I stood my ground with ease.

As night fell, we made our way to the second-nearest village. We avoided the closest one to keep the cave's location hidden in case they caught our scent. The air was cool, and I breathed it in, letting the thrill of the night sink in as we prowled around the village. We worked fast, focusing on houses on the outskirts where the weaker members of the pack lived. If they found out rogues had raided their home, at least I could handle them.

In the first few houses, we grabbed clothes, some cans of food, and even a bottle of hand soap. I found shampoo and a brush, a small luxury I'd been craving. After going through a few kitchens, I finally found some beer, whiskey, and bourbon tucked away in a cabinet. Sam was ready to leave.

"Let's go. We've got everything, Luci," he mind-linked me.

"No, we still need that razor," I replied.

Sam sighed, crossing his arms with an exasperated look. He didn't understand the point of it, but he knew better than to argue. I was determined, and he stayed downstairs while I crept upstairs in search of a bathroom. The stairs creaked, and we exchanged glances. He looked at me, shaking his head, but I mouthed back that it was fine. I was careful to avoid any room with a strong scent—those were the ones where people were likely asleep.

In the bathroom, I rummaged through the cabinets and swapped the hand soap for real shampoo. I couldn't carry everything, so I settled for the essentials—shampoo, a brush, razors, and some shaving cream. I padded softly back to the stairs, but as I reached the middle step, lights flooded the hall, and a man stood at the top, his face twisted in shock and anger.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in my house?" he shouted, his voice slurred with sleep and alcohol.

I bolted, with Sam holding the door open, urging me to hurry. But just as I rounded the corner, the man grabbed my wrist, pulling me close. I caught the stench of alcohol on his breath and sneered. "Ever heard of brushing your teeth, old man?"

With a quick movement, I kneed him hard in the leg, but his grip stayed firm, and he threw me against the wall. Anger surged through me, and I flung the bag at Sam, who caught it. Sam was already begging me to leave him, to let it go. But my past haunted me, and this man's drunken rage was too familiar.

I twisted my arm free and took him down with a quick, sharp knee to the gut. He doubled over, gasping for breath. I didn't stop. Blow after blow, I let out the frustration, the memories of every time I'd been underestimated or controlled. Blood pooled on the floor, staining the linoleum beneath him.

"Luci, stop!" Sam called out. He knew what I was about to do, but his voice barely registered.

"We can't have him alive. He'll describe me, and I can't risk being hunted down," I said, pulling a knife from the counter. Sam tried to reason with me, but I didn't care. He had seen me. And rogues weren't allowed to make mistakes like this.

I knelt down, drawing the blade across his neck in a swift, final motion. Blood poured out, pooling around him as Sam sighed, resigned.

Grabbing the man's wallet, I counted out what little cash there was. It was enough for a quick buy after the bonfire. By then, I'd smell like dozens of wolves, and they'd never trace it back to me. Sam and I shifted, the plastic bag hanging between our teeth as we sprinted back toward the cave, blending into the shadows of the trees and the cold night air.