Itâs been around eleven days since I left the valley, and I can honestly say itâs finally getting easier in some ways.
But not all. I was a fool to believe it wouldnât be hard on so many levels, and I still canât get my head around my naivety. Knowing then what I do now, I donât think I would have left at all.
Itâs not just the survival factor that gets to you; itâs the isolation, the loneliness, the living on constant high alert as you have to be aware of all around you.
And itâs the gnawing fear that sits in your gut hour after hour.
Iâm always on edge, hyper-aware, and mentally exhausted with it. I cannot stop watching my back and surroundings, always listening to ensure Iâm safe and afraid of even the tiniest noises or movements near me.
There are so many enemies in nature that I was oblivious to when living in the mountain bubble.
I rarely sleep, so tuned into the noises of the forests, the gullies, and caverns I have walked through in recent days.
Iâm always listening for something to come out of the shadows at me and have endless dreams when I do of vampires and monsters pulling me from my tiny crawl spaces before devouring my helpless body.
Every time Iâm paralyzed with the same useless inadequacy as that day in the orphanage and completely unable to defend myself.
I often see Sierra in my dreams, too, during my infrequent naps and hear that repetitive sentence she utters on her breath, which always wakes me with a start. Always the same damn thing.
âSave us.â
I donât understand why she haunts me still and can only imagine it has to do with my broken heart and the dregs of Colton in my memory banks that get through the steel door Iâm trying to force them behind.
She was one of our last conversations, and maybe thatâs why she plays so heavily on my mind.
The first few days were the worst, and thankfully behind me now, and I think itâs finally sunk in what Iâm actually doing.
The first night, I looked for shelter, ate Doritos I had hastily packed in my backpack for supper and tried to find a comfy way to lie in a shallow, hard-floored dugout on a hillside that barely concealed me.
It was a shock to my system, having come from a lifetime of shelter and home-cooked meals I took for granted.
Even being myself all those years, I was never alone or without food and a roof over my head, whereas now here I am, indeed in solitude.
I didnât sleep at all at first. Everything was swirling in my head, and the cravings were strong for not just Colton but Meadow, the sub-pack, my room in the pack house, and the safety of the valley.
It was all crying out to me, reminding me Iâm barely grown, only newly turned, and still so vulnerable in so many ways.
I sobbed so much in the first few days; I thought it would break me and send me running back with my tail between my legs, but it didnât.
I weathered the storm, wandering south aimlessly with no plan, and after getting the first few miles clear of the Santo lands, I didnât see the need to run anymore.
Thereâs enough distance between us and no signs theyâd picked up my scent to track me because, quite frankly, they would have caught up with me already if anyone had been looking.
I stuck to rural areas, stayed away from roads, and moved through forests, farmlands, and rougher areas to avoid humans.
I can still see the mountain in the distance as it gets farther away every day I trek, but Iâm probably not as far as I think. It seems so much farther because I took so long to get here.
Iâm afraid to turn in daylight if Iâm seen, afraid to travel at night in case I run across vampires. I have to use human legs and human speed, and without my heart and soul pushing me on, progress is slow.
Day four was the worst day of my life, and it alone was almost what ended this adventure of mine.
Just when I didnât think it could get any harder mentally, my heart already breaking with the need to see another person or hear another voice, a pain that came out of nowhere sideswiped me.
I thought I was dying. It was like someone reached into my chest cavity, grabbed my heart in the middle of my soul, twisted it around sharply, and yanked it out, breaking every bone.
I crumbled to the ground, gasping for breath, every part of my rib cage, lungs, and core slicing in agony, unable to catch air within me and clawing at the ground as the pain shot through every limb and nerve ending.
I rolled around in the mud, clutching my chest and wailing like a wounded animal as tears flooded my vision and my brain nearly shattered.
It was the single most terrifying moment I had experienced, apart from the night the vampires attacked, and I was wholly helpless again.
It felt like the ultimate betrayal, the severing of my soul, and the only thing I could connect it to was Colton.
It is the only logical answer to something so all-consuming, yet for no apparent reason to its sudden happening.
He must have done something strong enough to our bond to inflict this kind of hell, but I am as sure as hell it was not his death because Iâm still breathing.
Only two things could hurt an imprinted like that, especially from so many miles apart: severing the bond, which he couldnât have because I would be dead, or betraying the bond with an unforgivable act.
Sleeping with Carmen and marking her.
It has to be that. Nothing else can compare to this agony! The thing they taught us about in school, about carrying that heartache when your fated mate destroys the bond, it all makes sense.
And, for days after, fighting the fatigue and desperation it still makes me feel, I barely covered more than a couple of miles before breaking into a crumbling mess and sobbing again.
It felt like he had taken a knife himself, cut me open, and ripped everything out before setting it alight.
The emotional devastation was as bad as finding out my entire family had gone when I was just eight years old, and it still lingers like a shadow, weighing heavily, keeping me in the dark, even now.
It broke me in so many ways.
Mentally, as I wore on over the following days, I became numb, and my will to run far from the mountain died a death.
I was going primarily to outrun him and what he had to do. To try not to let it get to me, to distance myself from the pain and leave him to walk his path without me.
Yet the Fates delivered a blow that almost stopped me completely, killing my will to find my future.
They left me with the heavy sadness that consumes everything and wonât lift. Thereâs nothing to run from anymore. Itâs done. He did it.
Iâm just going through the motions now, without really engaging any kind of effort under this black cloud, my new constant companion.
I walk, find something to hunt and eat, wash in rivers, find shelter, and sporadically sleep through the dark.
The noises, the movement of nature, should bring me peace as a natural wolf, but it serves to remind me how very alone I am and that wolves are pack animals.
We donât thrive alone, and itâs wearing me down slowly. I canât seem to ever really get any clear sign of where I belong in life or what Iâm supposed to do.
Iâm just that discarded, worthless kid who wasnât good enough to be mated, even when the Fates imprinted me on someone. What hope is there for me?