once again hear Tristan’s words, This time they were condescending and dripped with venom. I know I should calm down and not feed into the resentment growing in me but with every thought I embraced every bit of it. I refuse to be a kept pet for their amusement.
The anger grows quickly my hand reaching out and grabbing hold of the blue curtains in a effort to restrain myself. The curtains begin to tear apart as grip grows tight, I ripe the curtains down enjoying the release of my pent up aggression. My vision grows red as I grab a decorative small white vase throwing it hard against the wall next to the door. I let a small yell of frustration, suddenly the untouched fireplace bursts into a wild flame. With a good portion of my anger was now gone as I stared in fear and disbelief at the sudden flames licking high up into the chimney. How could flames just appear? I hadn’t touched anything near it. My eyes finally look around the room hundreds of shards littering the floor, the curtains to my window shredded with claw mark’s. Ive never experienced such an all consuming anger before, guilt grows inside me as I feel the urge to cry come upon me.
I needed out of this room, out of this house, I needed to be aware from the world. So in desperation I throw on an easy pair of tennis shoes, and run over to the large window. I was on the second level but with my werewolf abilities, I will be fine. I push open the window and sit on the window sill, scooting forward until my legs dangle off the edge. With one last peak out the window I jump down rolling onto the ground. I quickly get back to my feet and run into the tree’s. Ever part of me wanted to roam freely around the forest, no fences, guards, or territories. I fall into my thoughts trying my best no to think to much of one particular thing as I wonder through he forest, changing between wolf and my human form. When I’m the wolf I keep my clothes in my mouth running with out a though of where I was. And pretty soon all my mind cared about was the wind in my fur and my pounding paws on the ground. I disappear behind a tree changing back to human form and throwing on my clothes.
As I walk from behind the large tree a small lightly traveled path catches my eyes. light tire tracks run over weed’s and flowers, I indulge my curiosity and follow my tracks keeping my ears, nose and eyes open for anything unexpected. I follow the tracks for a few minutes until I come up to a old run down cabin. The house was in shambles, the wood now grey and rotting. The windows were cracked, the door had long claw marks all over it. It was pretty small actually, just a one floor log cabin. I inch closer as I come around a grouping of aspens my eyes land on a black truck, the same truck Tristan drove the other day? What was he doing all the way out here? I start to hear some noises, and I rush to the side of the cabin sneaking to the back being as quiet as I could. A group of foot steps come through as the old door creaks open. the group’s steps stop near where I had seen the truck and I listen in peaking around the corner to see who it is.
My heart stops at who I saw, I wasnt surprised to see Tristan leaning against the front of his truck with his arms crossed, he wore a white shirt with a flannel button up unbuttoned over it. The flannel was a crisscross red and blue. It paired well with his blue jeans and old dirt covered boots. My eyes focus again on his boots, it was just dirt. their was a darkness with it like mud, as I get a closer look I realize its blood causing the dirt to cake the bottom of his boots. I try to steady my fast beating heart as my eyes move to roman stand next to him on his right, his back turned to me. Roman’s wearing an easy dark blue button up and blue jeans paired with dark brown boots, his jeans tucked shabbily into them. my eyes wonder to his boots. I didn’t know if I wanted to see the blood on his boot’s or if I wanted to be blissfully unaware of what he may be doing.
His boots wear caked more then Tristan’s, the feeling that came over me was both sadness and anger. Could this person had always seen as gentle and goofy by worse the those that had me before? I can already here winter telling me not to jump to assumptions, but to me the only thing worse then a bad guy is one that hides in sheep’s clothing. A resolve falls on me as I stare at the two of them talking to woman. If I was to spend my life with this pack, with him... I needed to know what was in the cabin. I sneak farther behind the cabin until I come to an old dust covered window I quickly rub off the window peaking inside to see its a small room. I push the window up slowly keeping the movement quiet a gentle squeak making noise ever so often but its an old building there’s hundreds of squeak’s every second. Once I get the window open I quickly shuffle my body up into the window and into the empty room.
I shuffle silently on my toes to the ajar door peaking out to see a guard in front of a large newer door just outside of the room I’m in to my left. There's no way I’ll be able to sneak past him, and no way to just tell him to move. As I’m thinking of a way to get him away from the door I hear a firm and melodic female voice come from outside. “Timothy! Come hear really quick.” She order’s. Just like that the mans out of the door and I am free and clear. I make a break for it to the door, thankful I mastered being stealthy while captured. I open the door to see it lead to a large set of cement stairs. The room was dimly lit as I move down the steps. A stench of blood, sweat and fear encompasses me as I shuffle down the stairs. When I reach the bottom I’m confronted with a large basement filled with cages.
I know where I’m at. The one place I would never want to be. The pack’s prison, built to hold rouges and threats to the pack. I walk to the first cage the cement stained with old blood, I hold back the urge to throw up. My hand touches the cool steel bar, the rough texture bringing me back to my childhood.