Black leaned forward in the frost, trying to make out the face of the white wolf in front of her. She bowed and whined and flicked her tail, submitting to the alpha male.
She was not a part of his pack of course. Only in her wildest fantasies, deep in slumber when the moon is at its peak in the night sky.
Right now it is a sliver, a Wolf's Claw Moon. It is almost ready to fade away.
He growls and snaps at her quickly, a gleaming light in his eyes. Already she can see that in the trees behind him stands Draiga, his female.
Black whined and paced backwards. She knows now that there is no hope for her here. She spins around as gracefully as she can muster and walks shamefully into the darkness, her tail tucked.
All her life she has been a wanderer. A pack will soon be tired of her after some while, tired of her dreams and her long stares into the infinite sky, her mournful howls to her invisible friends, as if someone will one day answer.
With her head filled with dark thoughts returning once more to feast on her light, she is now running, the brambles scratching at he flanks. But she doesn't mind. The pain is welcome to her. Anything to take her mind from her journey ahead.
YOU ARE READING
Bitter Still
General FictionFor all the people who have lost love, who have embraced darkness, who have felt wild, who have ran with a pack. This is the story of Black, a wolf who was shunned, attacked, lied to, betrayed, and still comes out on top. It's a story about belief...
