Adjusting - 1. Chapter 1 - Running

Running. It was nothing new to me. Others considered it a fun pastime, or maybe an evil forced upon them by their malevolent dictator, otherwise known as the gym teacher. However, to me, it was as much a part of my life as breathing. Running could calm me down from a horrible mood, or could help me to hunt for my food for the night. But at the moment, it was extending my life a little bit longer.

Growls, snarls, and yelps were following me as I sprinted through the forest, dodging all the low-lying branches that threatened to snap at me. My paws were flying beneath me; the wind was whistling through my fur. Were it not for the loud noises the wolves behind me were making, I could almost enjoy the freedom running gave me. In light of the circumstances, though, it was understandable, I think, that I couldn't relax. In fact, I was scared out of my mind.

Contrary to popular belief, packs were not right up against each other. Nobody really liked rogues. Hell, I was one and even I hated them. Because of this, there was about a mile of no man's land in between all of the packs' territories. This was where the rogues could be found, and sometimes pack members when they were visiting other packs to see family, visit friends, or maybe arrange a treaty.

Even with this safe land to walk on, I had managed to stray off course. Dehydration and a growling stomach had caused me to follow my instincts and get to the closest water source. A river or lake meant water, something to soothe my thirst and find some prey to hunt. Being half-delirious with thirst and hunger had me completely ignoring the scent markers indicating that I was crossing pack boundaries. Which led me to where I was now: being chased by the very pack I had intruded upon. If I could tell them that my actions were purely accidental, I would in a heartbeat. However, they hadn't given me any time to shift to my human form and explain before snapping at me with sharp teeth and attempting to attack me. So I ran.

The snapping of twigs behind me brought me out of my reverie as I realized the sounds were getting closer to me. Somehow finding an extra burst of speed, I sprinted away from the angry pack that was hot on my heels. No man's land was close, and I'd be able to more easily get away once I crossed the border. Once I was far enough away from the pack's territory, they'd leave me alone and go home. It wasn't worth their time to hunt little old me down.

Unfortunately for me, I was incredibly clumsy. My lack of coordination and balance caused me to trip and tumble as soon as my front left paw caught on a stray rock. My entire body did several somersaults before I landed on the hard forest floor with a solid thud. I barely had any time to register the pain radiating from my back before the first wolf descended upon me.

The large wolf immediately picked me up by the scruff of my neck and, ignoring my whimpers and obvious show of submission to him, flung me against the nearest tree. I yelped out at the pain, but remained huddled on the ground, baring my neck and belly to him in an attempt to prove to him that I meant no harm. However, he seemed to take my submission as a ruse--either that or he just didn’t care. The wolf dove in and began to rip away bits of my flesh, muscles, and fur. My yelps now sounded like screams as I desperately tried to crawl away from him to no avail. My blood poured out against the ground, making the autumn leaves around me a dark, sticky red. Finally, when I was about to pass out from the pain, I felt the wolf grab the scruff of my neck again with his teeth and drag me to some unknown destination. I understood, though, when I could smell the change of territory. He had dragged me back into no man’s land and, with a snort, he turned and left, his message to me clear enough without any words being said. And stay out.

The pain was brutal and everywhere. It caused me to shift back, a natural reaction to such extreme pain. I didn't move at all for the fear that any sudden movements would increase my pain tenfold. This was usually the case when something like this happened.

Yes, unfortunately events such as the one that had recently transpired happened more often than not. Such was the life of a rogue.

One might ask why someone would want this life. The life of running, always running. The life of constant hunger pains. The life of always being parched. The life of knowing everyone hates you. The life of hating yourself.

Most rogues don’t choose this lifestyle. Many of them were kicked out of their packs for various reasons. Some were unfortunate enough to go mad after their mate died. A small percent willingly left their packs for one reason or another, but that wasn't me. I was shoved into this Hell in a way that still gave me nightmares, in a way that still caused me to be wary around kind strangers. I was different now, cracked; I would never be the same person I used to be.

The pain wasn't fading, but my consciousness was. I couldn't handle it much longer and soon would be in the sweet darkness that seemed to embrace me all too often. But, right before I was gone, I felt another presence. In my last conscientious moments, I sniffed at the stranger. It was a male wolf. A male pack wolf. Great. Finally, the pain was gone as I welcomed the darkness and passed out.