Wolven

Simply willing things to be a certain way gets one nowhere. That is for sure... As much as my heart cries for the normality my life held before these wolves tore their way into it, I'm not incompetent to the point that I know it will alter nothing. Denial is natural, and change is a difficult thing for most. Such is the case for myself.

I know Ataneq has plans for me, plans that he wants to start setting into motion sooner rather than later, but... I've drawn inward over the past few days. Contact with the rest of the pack is the last thing I want, and instead of feeling safe and protecting within the Vale, I feel cut-off and isolated. The instinct within my gut, which I now acknowledge is in fact the urge, and the call to succumb to what I am, makes me feel constantly uncomfortable. Instead of tugging and rising, it roils now... rages and practically claws with an indescribably dull pain that sets my nerves on a perpetual edge.

Sleep is something I haven't had the pleasure of experiencing since my first night in the Vale. I find a ragged comfort only in Ataneq's gentle support. Not even the tundra grants me such anymore, and I don't even have the desire to talk to my brother. The overlook where Ataneq brought me to talk on my first full day in the Vale is the only place I really go. High away from the rest of the pack below, a view of the vast tundra accompanying me.

I sit there now, my back to the Vale. My chin rests buried into the crook of an elbow, my arms propped upon the tops of my knees as I loosely hold them to my chest. Above all, I haven't been enjoying how... not right I feel. On top of my life being shaken, all of me feels off. I just don't know what to do about that, or how to handle it.

"You find solace in the tundra?"

My eyes meet Ataneq's as I turn my head toward the sound of his voice.

"Until now," I reply. The peace that comes from the pack's alpha is even starting to wane. He stands tall and still at the opposite side of the overlook, remaining at the end of the path with his arms folded over his chest. His straight dark hair is pulled into a braid that falls over one shoulder, mingling with the fur lining of his coat.

"May I join you?" I nod as I look back to the arctic plains and distant peaks. He sighs lightly through his nose after he lowers himself to sit beside me on the overlook, leaning back on one arm with the other draped over a knee. “You’re feeling a tumult of things.” I take a slow glance at the pack leader, regarding his passive expression and hooded eyes. He has a tendency to state things, rather than question them. Returning my chin to its crook, I grip my own shoulders with my hands.

“In the least,” I breathe.

“What is the most potent feeling, Rheaden?” I see his head turn to look at me from the corner of my eye. I take a second to answer, after searching myself.

“Distress, I think. Followed closely by confusion.”

“Is there pain?” I meet his gaze, pointed and serious. Eyes falling, I give a nod. The hand that dangles bare and rough over his knee is large and dark, the top mangled, and the long fingers cross-hatched with small white scars. He looks away from me before speaking again, his thick brow at a slight furrow. “When a werewolf resists transformation for whatever reason, be it ignorance of the fact or otherwise, it can be a detriment. It can cause sickness, mainly emotional or mental. I don’t mean to push you. I’ve thought perhaps what you need is time, some contemplation... But I’m afraid much more and you will only suffer.” Ataneq pauses as his clear eyes travel to fix on the arctic sky. Its color seems to reflect their hue, rather than the other way around. They fall again to mine. “Do you understand, Rheaden?” His voice is gentle, as always.

“Yes. Transform or go postal?” His look turns quizzical, and I realize I’ve used one of Halin’s favored phrases. My heart sinks with the sudden thought of my friend, and the questions I harbor that I know can’t be answered. “Transform or go insane.” Ataneq nods in understanding, and agreement.

“May I ask what is holding you back?” A numb, blank feeling fills my gut as I search for an answer, accompanied by an uncomfortable rottenness. I take longer than I would like to answer, not wanting to simply say that I’m not sure, or that I don’t know. The confusion from my own questions, my own constant and futile attempts to analyze myself and figure out what’s going on within have me at an utter, tumultuous loss.

“I... don’t think I can now.” A brief silence falls between us after I finally answer him, and his eyes tell me to go on. Taking a shuddering sigh, I push away the queer feeling that I get from vocally addressing and discussing the fact that I’m... a werewolf.

“I think there’s always been a part of me that knew, all along... A very small part. Never has it ever felt right, though. It still doesn’t. Everything I feel just feels wrong, and it’s the most unpleasant thing I’ve ever felt. But... I have tried to... transform, I guess. I just don’t really know how... And the more I commit to it, and stop being timid and still half-resistant to it, the more it feels like... feels like I can’t.”

Voicing my thoughts and my feelings about this subject for the first time in my life causes a great weight to lift from inside me, yet what I speak of still rings true within. “I feel like I’ve been suppressing it for so long, and resisting and rejecting it with such strength, that I’ve created a permanent block against it. That, even when I try to accept it, I’ve created a barrier that I can’t cross... It all feels hopeless.”

I had buried my face into my arms, and the feeling of Ataneq’s grasp pulling me against him surprises me. His chin rests on the top of my head as I hesitantly ease into him, his scent enveloping me in a certain warmth. I can see the tips of a few parallel scars on the arm that is clasped around my shoulder, reaching out from under the sleeve of his jacket.

“I understand. You feel like you don’t belong here, in the Vale, in this life.” His voice is soothing. He pauses as his hand squeezes my shoulder, and I can hear the smile in his voice, when next he speaks. “Do you know why the Vale is so safe, Rheadan?” After pausing to absorb his question, I shake my head ‘no’ against his chest. “Because the love of your mother encompasses all within. She found this place... Excavated parts of the tunnel for access, protected it with half of her life for the safety of us. Even after being gone for so long, our enemies still dare not venture here. The Vale is your mother, in a sense. It still protects and guards us, as she never failed to. Her warmth can still be felt here.”

At his words, such a warmth fills my heart, and the thought of my mother’s legacy and importance to this pack brings tears to my eyes. I can practically feel her hand on my back, feel her guidance.

“Help me, Ataneq,” I whisper softly, screwing my eyes shut. “Please, help me accept it... I still don’t know how...” The rough skin of his free hand brushes against my cheek as he holds my head to him.

“Of course, Rheaden.”