--- Beonnie ---

I ran for days. Maybe even weeks. And I loved every single moment of it. I avoided the main roads during the days but ran like a wolf, even if not in the form of a wolf just yet, on them at night, knowing that it at least somehow protected me from breaching unknown pack territories. I was too young to have connected with my wolf just yet; this typically occurred when we turned 18, but since I was closing in at that age, my wolf senses had already awoken, and I was stronger and faster than an average human. 

Even if I was not fully wolfed yet and thus not much of a threat, I still wanted to avoid pack territories. Especially since I had a vague plan to leave the Prospect that my pack belonged to. The werewolf community on this continent was divided into four major territories, called Prospects, ruled by the Alpha King Prospects. These were further divided into smaller territories governed by ordinary alphas, like my former pack. The size of these different territories depended on the power and ability of the packs that lived there. So, the stronger the alpha, the stronger the pack. 

This organisation of packs had been created to prevent outright war, but it had often led to increased rivalry. There was supposed to be an Alpha King, supported by the Council of Elders, but he had recently passed of old age, and none of the four Alpha King Prospects had ascended the throne. As I was exiled from my pack, and the rumours about my father no doubt had spread to the other packs in my Prospect, I figured I had a better chance of finding a new pack in a Prospect where no one knew who my father was. 

Without a pack, I would be labelled a rogue, an outcast without protection, to whom any pack who crossed its path could do whatever they pleased. So, even if I technically was a rogue, I didn't want anyone to mistake me for acting like one, as rogues had such a bad reputation, and I didn't want anyone to think I was a threat of some kind. I just wanted to be left alone until I could figure out where to go and what to do with the rest of my life. Running in human form was less provocative to other packs, and running along highways at almost wolf speed during the nights made me move quite fast anyway.

I didn't have any specific goal for where to go, but I noticed that I always seemed to run in the same direction. It was as if my body had a goal that my brain was unaware of. It was obviously not the case, but one day, I found myself stopping in my tracks because I took a wrong turn, only to realise that objectively, there wasn't such a thing as a wrong turn since I wasn't going anywhere special. However, subconsciously, it FELT wrong, and thus, I turned, ran back to where the road forked, and took the other route instead.

"You will find them, Beo."

The memory of my father's words almost made me stop in my tracks.

"Find who?" I had urged, but his reply didn't help at all.

"I don't know. But you will. We always do."

It is hard to find something you don't know you are looking for, but somewhere, I hoped that the gut feeling I had in which direction to run would eventually make me find... whatever I was supposed to find.

The terrain had shifted from flat grasslands to forests, to rolling hills, and back again, but then the rolling hills gave way to steeper, more rocky hills and even cliffs. This particular night, I heard the roaring of thunder from afar, and as a sudden flash of exhaustion came over me, I decided it was time to get some sleep. 

The game had been rare in the area, and I supposed it was because I was very close to pack territory. No doubt they had hunted this area recently, as I still could smell the blood from deer and rabbits that had called this place home not many hours ago. Even if I had been able to hunt in wolf form, it would have been hard for me to catch anything. I had a few chocolate bars left in my backpack, and even though my human hunting game with traps had proven successful in more prey-dense forests, I was getting hungrier as time passed.

Walking through a dense forest snugging a more rocky area, I noticed a dark shadow higher up on one of the cliffsides and figured it could be a cave. It would suffice to sleep in, so I started following a trail leading towards the general direction of the cliff. To my left, the deep forest became less dense and was gradually replaced by cliffs, and a small stream divided the woods to my right. Soon, the trail started elevating, and the stream was only apparent from the sound. I kept as close to my left as possible to not trip over the edge as the higher I got, the steeper the trail was, and the longer it was down to the stream on my right. When I eventually found the cave, the trees and the creek were a painful fall down, but the view from where I stood was great.

The thunder had set in by now, and the heavy rain and dark hour started to creep up on me, making me grateful for the cave's protection. I carefully checked that the cave indeed was empty before I sneaked in and started the tiresome work of getting a small fire in place with nothing but my enthusiasm, dry leaves, and wet wood to help me. Werewolves were generally okay with cold, but my clothes were soaked from the rain, and I figured that if a potential mama bear returned to her cave, the fire would also help to scare her off again. 

When I finally started a small fire near the cave entrance, I removed my clothes and hung them around the cave to dry them further. I tried to dry myself using whatever nature provided me in the form of dry leaves and whatnot, left at the mercy of the cave owner. This not only to dry off but also, in an effort that would've made my father proud, to cover my tracks and, most of all, my scent at least a little. 

Then, I emptied the wet backpack and examined all my worldly belongings. Some money, one pair of exchange clothes I carefully pulled on, some papers relating to my scholarship and birth certificates, an old envelope I had found next to the small leather pouch of coins my father had urged me to take, and some chocolate bars. 

I sighed. I had been lonely before. My entire life, actually, but at least someone had known that I existed. If Mama Bear returned and ate me, no one would ever know. Misery crept in, and to increase the mood a bit, I turned to the one thing I could rely on.

Chocolate. 

I opened one of the chocolate bars and then opened the small leather pouch and noticed for the first time that it did not contain only coins but two replicas of my father's necklace, still hanging around my neck. Small silvery round amulets with what looked like tree branches and a moon or possibly an "F." It could also be a spider's web. It was hard to tell, and it probably didn't matter much. Carefully, I put them back in the leather pouch and leaned back towards the cave wall, trying to find a flat surface to make do as a bed. By now, my thoughts and vision had become blurry, and soon, I was fast asleep, dreaming all night about huge snakes and giants with necklaces made of trees.

--- Hild ---

I dragged myself out of bed. A bottle of scotch was on the side table, and I took a sip to even out the imbalance I felt when standing up. I spit it out again. Maybe, just maybe, today was the day I finally took charge of my life. Maybe today was the day I left this shithole and found a new life. Maybe today was the first day of the rest of my life. Maybe today was the day I got my inner voice back. Maybe...

"Hiiiill"

Or maybe tomorrow.

I looked out the bedroom window to locate the origin of the angry male voice yelling my name. Kurt.

"Hill, if you are not out here in five seconds, I'm gonna.."

I ran out of the bedroom, through the living room, past the small kitchen, out the door, and into whatever conundrum Kurt found himself in. It turned out the problem was Harry. Our neighbour's cat had decided to clean himself on top of a rusty car outside our small outdoor area. The cat here was fully aware that it was the best spot to do so safely while also annoying Harry, the dog.

Kurt was caught in the middle, unable to simultaneously shoo the cat away and keep the lab out of harm's way. I hid the laughter, shooed the cat away, and put what I hoped and prayed was a calming hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Breakfast?"

He glared at me, considered the offer, and nodded. Phew. Good day today. I got back into the kitchen and started preparing what he liked best. Bacon and egg. It didn't take more than a couple of minutes before I felt his breath in my neck as he slid his arms around my waist.

"Baby? Wanna..."

I laughed and urged him away. I really did not "wanna" anything. I just wanted him to leave for work so I could get on with my day.

"Oh, hun," I cooed. "Your breakfast is ready in a minute. And you'll be late for work."

"Ah, to hell with work. I don't care about that."

But I did. If Kurt didn't work, it meant I had to. And because of thousands of reasons that were excuses, but that originated in how I had lived for the past 15 years, stripping was the only job I had. So I earned my money by selling my body, and not even to the highest bidder.

I had finished high school and had all the opportunities in the world. Well, all the opportunities that I could create myself. Foster family, number seven in a row, did not provide me with anything other than the experience of being a nanny/cleaning lady/chef in one go and when I was 19 years old, one bright day in June, I was just tired of it all.

So I left. And lost nothing that day.

The only thing I would have wanted with me was my voice. The one inside my head. It appeared on my 17th birthday when I suddenly heard a voice talking to me. It was comforting and friendly to have someone there, just for me, like a sister of a kind. However, having voices in your head is not exactly what people prefer you to have, so I was taught that it was harmful and wrong. Techniques and medication to subdue it were administrated, and eventually, it disappeared.

I didn't know if it was the medication or what it was, but I felt cut in half. The feeling turned into an urge to leave and find something to make me whole again. So I up and left - no lost love.

This kind of life was not luxurious in any way, but I managed to put money in my bank account every month since opening it on my 19th birthday. Over the years, the amount increased, and a couple of years ago, I decided that I could spend some to get some sort of education online, get a degree, get my shit together, and hopefully get a proper job. Today was the final exam, and I had prepared by drinking the night before. Great.

I never told Kurt. I was pretty sure he would have wanted to get a hold of the money and then spent it on other things. Did I use him? Yes, probably. Did he use me? Yes, very much so. He had a job, a real job, but wasn't paid enough to keep up with his drinking and drugging habits. So, at times when the local drug lord, the lovely Laverne, felt there was money to be collected, but no money was available, I had to step in — stripping so Kurt could do drugs. I could have, should have, up and left, but I needed the stability to finish my degree and save some money. It wasn't my body anyway.

Kurt sighed.

"I suppose you are right."

He finished his food, took his keys and phone, and left. I stayed by the window long enough to make sure he drove off, then took a long shower, turned on the computer five minutes before the exam started, and took a deep breath. This was it.

Time to excel.