When you've been deprived of a family for ten years, you tend to do crazy things, like cross pack borders, something extremely dangerous that no sane wolf would dare to do. Good thing I'm hungry and dehydrated then, making my thoughts spiral in a stupid and illogical direction.
But the idea of getting food makes me take that daring step. I shuffle a foot across the border, my eyes fuzzy and disorientated. In my defense, if they had done a better job of marking their territory I wouldn't have even sniffed in this direction.
The usual way of marking a territory would be to pee around the place until the scent is so domination that you wouldn't have any wolf come your way, but recent – more modern – packs have the tendency to rub their furred bodies around and call it a day. Not as useful, but who am I to complain? It's because of this method that I'm able to be brave enough to cross pack borders and steal food.
My stomach rumbles and a part of me laments that I don't have a permanent source of food, but to me food and water are only superficial desires.
I want a family, or at least someone. Someone to love me, to care for me, to listen to me. I find that to be more important than having food, and that's because I'm a werewolf, creatures that long for interaction and affection.
Stupid ethics, I call it. But it's not like I can turn around and say no to who I am, God knows I tried. That's why I'm lying to myself in my weak moments, as per usual.
Maybe if I were to ask this pack for food, they may take pity on me and take me in, feed me and offer me a nice bed to sleep in.
The hell are you thinking, my logical side says, you're doing fine, don't let this set back get you down. And I ignore it, smiling when I hear the drumming footsteps coming my way.
Three werewolves burst through the bushes, landing a meter away from me with teeth barred. They growl and my foot shuffles back out of their territory. My mind goes blank, panic taking the rails and leaving me somewhat frozen.
I let my head fall, tucking my chin in, hunching my back and letting my hair fall over my shoulder so my neck is exposed. I've been taught to use my resources to the best of their abilities, like with my submissive outer appearance and scent.
I glance up when the wolf in the middle shifts and a towering giant stands in front of me, a look of pity in his eyes. I stand stunned for a moment, taken aback by the sympathy he is showing. I'm a rogue, a disgusting feral creature that goes around attacking packs.
I don't, but that's the overall opinion they have on us.
So it's a surprise when I see a more subdued form of human emotion cross his face, and I plan to use it in my advantage. I soften my voice and try to sound frail and not like a parched drug addict.
"Is it possible-" the two other wolves growl when I speak up, causing me to take a step back, in case they try to attack me.
"Leave," the man says, raising his arm to calm down his subordinates. I won't take a no for an answer, I'm desperate and hungry, the worst combination when it comes to me.
"Please, um... I-" how do you say please shut up and give this hungered child some food in a none-provocative manner? "Can I have a little bit of... food?" I peek up at them, trying to appeal to them the best way I can.
They fall silent as they look at each other, linking. I place a hand on my bag, ready to whip something out and stunt them so I can escape if anything dangerous were to happen.
"What's your name?" he asks.
Habit rides faster than my honesty, "Nadir."
"Follow me," he says and I almost rejoice, a smile forming on my lips as I take cautious steps across their border. I can't believe this is happening? My stomach jumps in excitement, twirling around and doing an imaginary dance.

YOU ARE READING
Run Away With Me
Werewolf"Fishy kisses are better than kisses," I say, the words coming out of nowhere, "and like that, two people together are better than marriage." "What are you talking about?" "Nothing really," I sigh, hunching over myself more to trap the warmth, "it'...