Her Human

One

Today, he brought a female home. From the fallen log I was hunched over, I could see her small and lean shape.

It used to hurt, I'm talking immense physical and mental pain. To see him with the occasional girlfriend. He'd had a couple in the past, always sweet in the beginning. But something would go wrong, something always had to go wrong.

The reason? Me.

None of his relationships would or could work out. He was meant for me, and I for him. His girlfriends were just simple flings, temporary. They'd die out just as soon as they'd begin.

I wasn't sorry about this, but seeing him unhappy after the fall out made me hate myself just a bit. Hate just that part of me that wasn't human.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't half wolf, so I could be in the position the small blonde was currently in. I'd move into his town, work at some local bookstore. He likes books. We'd meet and we'd fall in love, I'd move into his log cabin set just outside of the small town and we'd have a family.

At this point that was wistful thinking. I think it's been two years, give or take. I'm not entirely sure when I found him, but I remember every detail of how it happened.

I'd run away for the first time. I'd discovered what it felt like to be on my own. Growing up in a pack, I was constantly surrounded by other people. I'm not a very sociable person. Of course that doesn't mean I don't know how to converse, or how to be polite. I'm just not a people person.

He didn't seem to be like one either, if living outside of a small town in the secluded woods was any indication of that.

Something drew me over to this small edge of territory run by my pack. We'd stayed in this area longer than we'd ever stayed anywhere before. My pack's a group of nomads. When we move to different areas, we bring tents and stuff to live in. Our group will occasionally be mistaken for campers, and people will set up tent close to us. We've rarely had that problem occur, though.

I noticed his scent all around a wooden cabin. It drew me in, called out to me.

Regret still eats at me when I did what I did next.

As a wolf, it didn't occur to me that I'd appear so frightening to him in the pitch black night. He was human, I could tell immediately and he was scared of me. Me, his soulmate.

I guess my glowing amber eyes might've been startling against the inky night.

When we made eye contact, he jumped back. His eyes were wide and the smell of fear he was emitting had me back into the shadows and out of sight in seconds.

Eventually he calmed down enough to start coming outside at night again. Took about two weeks. I stayed away, hidden where only my eyes could see him and not the other way around. I promised I'd never scare him like that again, as it had physically pained me to do so.

I felt his fear and it wasn't something I'd ever let myself forget. I reminded myself about it, every time I thought of what it'd feel like to touch him or be touched by him. The niggling thoughts were always there, always present. I could hurt him, he could become so scared of me, he'd move away and so on.

Back then he was younger, his appearance less gruff. If I had to guess I'd say he was around eighteen.

Every weekend I'd come back, just to watch him. I'd set up a tent close but out of sight so I could protect him. This thought always made me laugh though, who else would he need protecting from other than big ferocious creatures like me. It was another bitter thought I couldn't squash down and yet, I didn't want to squash it down. I needed it there. I needed to be reminded of what can happen if I get too close to him. If he sees me.

It was edging on dusk, I braced myself for the front door not opening, for the female to not leave. For her to get up before him and leave. Tonight that didn't happen though. She left, her smile friendly but reserved and their hug brisk.

I wondered if maybe she was a relative, or just a friend. Or maybe he'd try to make it work with her. Take it slow. I hoped against hope it was the former. Somehow though, I doubted it.

He kissed her cheek, the usual flash of self-doubt and insecurity flashed over his face. Even from here I could see the longing in his face, he wanted her to be the one.

I gazed elsewhere. I didn't want to see it. That longing expression, the one only I could fulfill. I looked back. She left and he smiled bitterly to himself and cracked open a beer.

I hated it when he drank. It always went like this; he'd grab a bottle and take a swig. He'd mumble to himself and I could see this lost look in his eyes. He'd shed a few tears, then drag himself to bed. Through the large glass windows, I could see him toss the beer into the recycling bin and narrowly miss it. His thoughts of self deprecation, almost audible. He'd throw up, then mumble to himself before snoring in his deep sleep.

After a particularly bad episode of this, he wouldn't shave for days.

Right now he was sporting a full on beard.

I couldn't take it anymore. I was going to do it, I was going to approach him, I was going to take that sorrow away, that deep longing will be gone. I have to be selfish, just this once.

Just this once.

*

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