I come to a relative clearing in the woods. Iâm hot and achy from covering miles of ground at a fast pace and stop to catch my breath.
I drop my bags by sliding them from tired shoulders with a heavy thud and stretch my body out with a fantastic amount of crunching and cracking in the depths of my skin and bones.
It feels good, despite the worrying noises. I extend my arms fully and stretch out, flexing fingers and limbs to full capacity, making an âarghâ sound as I do so, relieved to lose that weight.
I straighten up without it and curve my spine and bend my neck from side to side, cracking it satisfyingly.
I roll my shoulders and pace around the clearing to ensure itâs a safe spot to stop, eyes darting and ears honed in.
I can hear water nearby and walk into the tree line by a few feet until I find a tiny shallow babbling brook heading downhill.
I quickly take my fill, still cursing that I broke my water bottle a week back and have no way to carry any.
Then I head back to my bags, pulling out my smoked meat, and slump to the ground while chewing on it to take in my surroundings.
The sun is high, so it must be around noon now, the dayâs heat at its strongest. Rustling wind, so gentle itâs barely there, sends the leaves swaying on the branches around and above me.
Birds are circling in the sky above, adding a pleasant, peaceful calm to the not-so-quiet of the day.
Small forest animals chatter busily, singing and chirping in the distance, while the nearest remain silent as they watch me and try to second-guess if Iâm a threat.
I can almost hear and feel the wildlife paused in their tracks, eyeing me up, little hearts beating fast to see who this stranger is among them.
Thatâs the one good thing to come from all of this. My senses, instincts, and wolf side are growing and developing fast, and I couldnât ever have come this far naturally if I was still back in the Santo pack house.
I know Iâm changing, becoming independent, so sure of myself as the days roll by. Iâm less convinced Iâm a failure and afraid of my own shadow now.
I feel like this experience is doing something for me that no time in the valley could have. Itâs taking my wolf and bonding us as one instead of just being another part of me that occasionally shows up.
I guess Iâm finally seeing and feeling what Colton mastered in his abilities and embracing my other side.
Iâm no longer two halves battling for one space but merging to flow fluidly from one to the other.
Maybe I had to lose Colton to find myself, to learn what I was capable of and harness it alone. Perhaps that was always the Fates' planâteaching me a lesson and setting me on a path.
Maybe, right now, he has his new direction, his new strengths that came from our brief crossing of paths.
Perhaps he was always meant to lose me to find himself, too. Like somehow, this is some minor detail in a bigger plan, and our hearts may have been broken, but in the grand scheme of things, it was necessary for something else.
Maybe Carmen was always his destiny, and they gave him the strength to betray our bond for that reason.
Who knows? I donât think I ever will. I donât think I will ever find the ability to forgive him for it either, even if it was all in the Fatesâ crazy master plan.
Maybe Iâm trying to find a reason to justify all of this because I was always taught that the Fates are never wrong. They always have a purpose for everything they do, even if we canât see it.
Even leaving lonely little girls as unseen shadows in homes for the unwanted and then showing them a light of hope before crushing it in their face and throwing it far away.
I donât dwell for long. If I do, the bitterness, sadness, and anger will consume me and destroy my mood. Before the dark moves in, I have to move and find somewhere to settle tonight.
I want daylight hours to set up my bed properly and find leaves and dry grass to pad it first. Itâs become a daily ritual to help keep me sane.
One thing Iâm finding is instrumental to my mental well-being is taking the time to make my camp comfortable and a little homey and have some downtime before dusk.
I sleep better, which helps my overall emotional state.
I get up and gaze around, slightly disoriented from walking in circles and going off to find water. Then I decide to check my directional progress before moving along.
Iâve covered some distance and want to keep that vast dark mountain in the far distance as my central point to aim for. If I have a plan that I donât sway from, it helps me stay focused.
I look up at the trees as I walk clockwise in my clearing to find the tallest and thickest of them to climb.
Itâs better to have one with a substantial trunk right up to the top so I can get above the canopy and peruse my land.
Itâs easy to climb when you have claws and super strength to aid you and a complete lack of aversion to heights that you didnât know you possessed.
I pick one and waste no time kicking off my shoes to turn my hands and feet into sharp climbing accessories and scale to the top in the blink of an eye.
Lycanthropes have many skills that natural wolves donât, and this is one of them.
I push my head up through the leaves, breaking through quickly, and even with this beast swaying as I scale to its terrifying height, I cling on and look out over what I can now see.
The trees up here form an almost solid carpet surface that looks like you should be able to step out and walk across.
All are swaying in waves and dips on the wind, like a green mass moving on the waterâs surface, but with more texture.
Itâs not as gentle when youâre this high, and itâs almost mesmerizing to watch the lay of many shades of greens, moving to browns and some yellows, the peaks of the odd rock formation or small hill, and the sporadic clearing.
Itâs a sight thatâs not comparable to anything else, and I revel in its beauty for a moment, the sun thoroughly warming my head and face.
The mountains in the distance are so faint they almost look light-gray, and as I turn to see where I came from, itâs weird to note my mountain is now also of a similar color and distance away.
But itâs also surrounded by a fog that makes it almost invisible across the large expanse.
I get that same aching gut twist when I look at it and shake my head, bringing my focus back to my new destination to combat those feelings.
There is no time to dwell on where Iâve been when I should only focus on where Iâm going.
As I gaze back at my new mountain thoughtfully, I catch something out of the corner of my eye, and it makes me turn instinctively.
The sun dazzles a little speck, a tiny flicker of white spark which seems to bounce at me across to the right, but when I turn to look properly, I canât see where it came from.
The trees sway, covering any chance of seeing it at first. I wait for them to swing back again, wondering if I imagined it.
But there it is, a tiny flicker of reaction in a pop of clearing, almost like a light shining Morse Code, sparkles at me, and then itâs gone as the trees sway back again.
Their movementâs organic flow closes and opens the gap where it peeks out.
Holding myself as steady as I can on my moving perch, I focus on it, waiting for the movement of the wind to show it to me again, and this time, I home in on what it might be.
I catch the tip of what looks like some sort of pole or mast, and when the wind kicks a bit harder, the leaves part wider for a second.
I spot the top of something flat and dark gray, just below whatever is catching the light, and then itâs covered again. No matter how long I perch here watching, itâs the most I can see, and I wonder what it is.
Itâs manmade for sure, but I donât know if itâs a mast, a building, or some sort of rural construction used by power companies, or maybe something else.
Itâs piqued my curiosity, as itâs not far from the path I plan on taking, and now I want to know if Iâm straying into human territory in a place that seemed idyllic and people-free.
I sigh in exasperation, looking toward the mountain, then back to my little flashing light, head forming so many questions and doubts, and try to see something I just canât.
It might be a supply post, seeing as we are well off the beaten track, and people do that. Iâve heard of it, seen it on TV, and have seen them in the books in the school library.
Rural buildings sit alone and open, filled with survival kits for lost hikers and injured campers, especially in winter.
This place is nestled in a dense part of the forest, absolutely miles into the center of a massive overgrown part of the area.
It could be a supply hut with dried foods, supplies, and maybe even shoes and water bottles.
I look down at the ground far below me as though thinking about the possibility of what I might salvage there, something in my gut urging me to investigate.
It wouldnât be a bad thing to pick up items I could use if that is what it is. I canât imagine it would be anything other than a hut or a mast.
It couldnât hurt. I mean, Iâm not exactly on a schedule, and if I get close and itâs not occupied, or not a supply hut, and just a mast or something pointless, itâll remove any suspicion of people running into me.
It might be nothing more than an unmanned power plant building, and I might gain nothing more than a few hours wasted on a detour.
If itâs staffed, Iâll get the hell away from it, change path and head for the mountain faster, and hope they never venture the way Iâm going. It might still be a source to swipe some essentials, though.
My gut says go, and without stopping to debate it any longer, I slide down the tree to recover my things and see what is out there in my new discovery.