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Tell me father, 

Which to ask forgiveness for: 

What I am, or

what I'm not?

Tell me, mother, 

which should I regret?

What I became, or

what I didn't?

-thoughts of a stray | m.a.w. 

***

We watch from the background- the male looking at me.

The wolves were in the distance, curled up at the foot of a hill.

Resting.

He puts his head down, repeating the same stance that he had done when asked if he was an Alpha.

It takes me several seconds to finally realize that he is waiting.

Slowly, I mimic him.

He shuffles forward, almost sliding on his stomach against the rocky forest floor, as he approaches the pack.

The young wolves eagerly race forward, tackling him and biting his tail and ears in play.

I slowly, almost painfully, skim forward.

They stop in their actions, heads turned to gaze at me.

The older wolves step forward, and this time- I see the threat.

I was not something foreign.

I was one of them.

A stranger approaching their young.

Their jaws raise back, revealing threatening canines that would attack if provoked.

I feel my own hackles rise in defense to their actions.

But the male steps in-between.

He turns to me, and slowly steps over my crouched body- placing his front paws on either side of my head as he stands over me.

The others approach until they are leaning in, cautiously sniffing me.

I slowly rise, feeling the male press against my side as he rubs his scent into me.

She's with me.

I can almost hear the words coming from his wolf.

I stay still, not daring to move as they circle around us.

Smelling. Watching. Taking in the sight.

One wolf lunges, nipping against my ear and biting hard into the flesh.

I can't stop the sharp cry of pain that leaves me.

The male does nothing.

I only feel his body tense even more besides mine.

But whatever the action meant, it seemed to have confirmed their decision.

Several sneeze, casting away my smell from their noses.

They shake out their bodies, and slowly- like the male- rub against me.

Mixing the scent of the pack into my fur.

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