The Wanderer

Chapter 1

The leaves crush beneath my paws, the dirt shifting with every step. The trees move with the wind, in sync, making the atmosphere calm and controlled.

That is what I love so much about this life. The feeling of control. I may not have a stable life, but I'm the one who controls it. No one else.

I consider myself a 'Wanderer.' I'm no rogue, I don't kill other wolves for fun. I simply wander, finding my way through life on random paths I come across.

I've been in my wolf form for two years, never switching back after I found my pack slaughtered when I was sixteen. I was on a run through the forest, only to come back to dead eyes and no heartbeats.

I ran and never looked back, wandering through the mountains, alone. Sure, I've become lonely, but I much prefer it to having rogues as company.

All I've ever heard was that rogues were monsters. They are bloodthirsty killing machines. I never wanted to be like that, and yet, here I am, on my own, a rogue.

But I'm no rogue. At least, I don't consider myself one. Other packs might, which is why I choose to wander, finding peace in the mountain's uneven terrain. I don't want to be killed on sight for being something I'm not.

At first, before I truly began to enjoy the loneliness, I considered joining a pack. But, too long had passed and it was no longer an option. The scent of my pack no longer lingered, scenting me as a rogue, meaning a most likely instant death.

Now, I'm running, enjoying my freedom. I haven't encountered a single werewolf since being left on my own, and I'm grateful. The thought of meeting a rogue, or even a wolf from a pack, sends fearful shivers through my body.

I don't want to end up like my pack. I must survive.

My loving parents always said to 'enjoy every path life takes you on, you are meant to be there.' So, I live by that code. Whatever is thrown my way, I will take it in stride, believing that the moon goddess has a plan for each one of us.

She planned for my small pack to be slaughtered by a larger one. We were a group of less than one hundred wolves, and seen as a weak link. A pack killed them all, leaving me to deal with the brutal pain of losing everyone I've ever known.

So, I ignored it all to wander. Never trusting packs, I found joy in life on my own. Sure, wolves are pack animals, meaning my wolf was distant, but the human side couldn't have been better.

Although I miss my wolf, she believes what we are doing is what's best.

Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But it is the path life took me on so I'm meant to be here.

For the first time in a year, my wolf perks up. She pushes against my consciousness, trying to take control.

I fight back, and negotiate to let her tell me what to do instead of controlling me. She agrees, telling me to head to the left.

Cautiously, I trek down the side of the mountain, wondering what she could possibly be this excited about. I dodge a large tree root, having become more agile and used to the terrain over the years of wandering.

After a few minutes I find this pointless, but keep going so I don't anger my wolf. An angry wolf does no one good.

A smell enters my nose, lighting up my body. I recognize the scent of pine and a smell I can only describe as a camp fire. My body subconsciously follows the scent, my wolf screaming something unintelligible in my head.

I can't focus on what she is saying, I can only focus on the scent that makes my mouth water and body set on fire.

Being so distracted with my sniffing, I don't realize a ten foot tall wolf that is right in front of me. I only realize it when I run straight into its large frame, coming face to face with a black chest.

Looking up, I see a snarling mouth, large canines on show. Red eyes are the thing that makes my brain click into place.

The huge stature of this wolf and its red eyes, along with a delicious but dangerous scent, all point to one thing.

This is the Rogue Lycan, and he is my mate.