Chapter Twenty-Five

~ • ~

The sky beckons my eyes to its tender slash of colours, ones that I do not know the names of. I consider asking Morrison, who lies on his side next to me. It makes me believe that he has watched the sunset so many times, he isn't even interested anymore. Opposing him, I keep myself awake as long as my body allows, just to watch as everything melts into a heaping mess of warmth.

His exposed body doesn't bother me anymore, the countless hours we've spent just existing in each other's company rendering body shyness useless. I've come to enjoy the freedom of not being confined by fabrics and insecurities, allowing my moon gifted body to explore the earth as it should. Despite Morrison likely never feeling ashamed of his body's exposure, I thank him mentally for allowing me the passage to feel the same.

I take one last glace at the night sky, clawing it's way above me as it pinches the sun further and further down. It's now almost fully dark, and so I make the decision to sleep in my human body.

Goodbye, I say in my head to everything around me, although I know they won't be leaving, and neither will I.

I close my eyes and keep them closed, shifting to find a comfortable spot in the grass.

It's been a couple of days since Morrison and I last spoke, my preference lying in my wolfs body. It's safer that way, vulnerability lying in the human form.

~ • ~

Sounds of the forest breathe and croak and rustle around me, my eyelashes skimming the grass, leaving a soft tickle on my eyelids. The grass is now flattened beneath me and dew from its long green strands moisten my cheek. It sticks to my body as I peel upwards into a sitting position, listening for Morrison. I tap the ground heavily to hear for his position, but I still can't locate him. I contemplate on whether I should shift to be safe.

I push myself off the ground in a swift manner, planting my feet into the dirt. My feet are spread the length of my shoulders, my arms bent slightly in front of me. I hear nothing but the earth and yet my intuition strikes panic in the pit of my stomach. I force a slow breath out of my lungs, subsiding any decisions I might make out of fear. This is something Morrison taught me to do. Our first few days, it was difficult for me to not freak out. Sometimes it still is, though I'm now learning how to control how I react, no matter my emotion.

My body releases tension, nothing unearthly being heard or even smelt. I realize I am safe, despite the uneasy feeling still thick in my gut. As always, I keep alert, like Morrison taught me.

It's on our third week of travel we finally reach a pack. Morrison and I ran through plains, forests, and even crossed a few great lakes to get here. We didn't know where we were going or where we would end up, though it proved worthwhile as we arrived in the packs territory.

We knew to be very careful as we entered their territory, appearing as kind as possible, as to not be taken as a threat. Most alphas are accepting of visitors, though some are left with deep scars of the recent war, and will likely never trust another rogue.

We walking among others on the clay streets, our beaten and dirtied bodies bound to catch their attention. All I can hope is that the people of this pack are trusting, allowing us a short life in their pack, before I head off again.

The knowledge I've learned over the last three weeks is unimaginable. I would have never pictured myself ever having the freedom I do now.

"Hey!" I startle at the shout of a pack member, jumping slightly away from the sound.

A man jogs up to us, light steps getting louder as he nears. He stops in front of us, thankfully not appearing aggressive in any manner.

"You guys look like you need a place to stay," he exclaims, he's an older man. He points out our obvious grimey bodies.

"It's been a long way from home," Morrison says. It's unlike him, I find. He isn't timid, though prefers to keep to himself. He turns on a switch to make himself more outgoing, probably hoping we get a better chance to stay somewhere on this land, somewhere safe.

"I do imagine," the old man says. "We can get you two set up for a few days." And with that, I smile in excitement.

He takes us through the open area of clay brick roads, patterns flowing all throughout. It's a happy, quaint territory. I am grateful we landed here and not somewhere else. To be such a pleasurable pack, it makes me wonder who the Alpha is. I know nothing about the packs I've never been to, and that is pretty well everywhere.

Morrison and I set up fine, blankets and a pillow each on the floor of the kind man's home. I think he's happy to have people around, eager to know about our adventure. He seems lonely, at least at first impression.

He offers to join him and his buddies, only on the yard over, he said. He insisted, and if it weren't for his almost desperate asking, I wouldn't have said yes for the both of us. I did, and Morrison didn't object, so now we are leaving the home trailing behind the man.

It's easy to follow behind, easier than it was when Morrison and I first took off. I listen to the men walk ahead, feeling it through my feet on the dry grassy dirt, at the same time.

It truly is only a minute of walking before we stop at a group of jovial old men. They have boisterous laughs, getting us happily and offering us a drink. A kind gesture which I don't refuse, I feel comfortable.

Morrison and I have a seat on the ground with the rest of them, a fire cackling in between us all. One man tells an old story which he obviously told many times before, the other men even jump in and tell the story for him. We take turns, and even Morrison has a story.

"It was wild," he said with an emotion in his voice I didn't recognize. "the most fun I've ever had, also the saddest night I can remember." He tells a story about him and his childhood friend, doing childish things. His story ended with his best friend and his family leaving the pack the next day. "I didn't know he was leaving, I thought we were just having fun like always. Turns out he wanted to make one last memory before he was gone." He says the last part in a laugh, though I hear the solemness in his voice. It's a sad story, but he tells it in a way which makes us appreciative. He sees it as his best memory, and not the last time he ever got to see his friend.

It got to my turn and my face started to burn, knowing they were waiting for my own wild memory. I feel embarrassed knowing I have none, I have nothing to share. I consider making up a story, but my mind can't make up anything as fantastical as the stories already told.

"My life started three weeks ago," I only spoke the truth. "I don't have any memories yet." With that, they didn't ask again.

We continues to laugh and talk, and I chimed in every now and then. It's the most fun I've had I think since I can remember. I don't want the night to end, but finally we all got tired and headed back to our beds.

I know when the morning comes what will happen, and it makes me sad. I don't want to sleep, I want to savour all the time I have here.

Morrison and I lay on either sides of the room in our blankets. I know he isn't sleeping, the rhythm of his breath still uneven and heavy.

I ask him something that's been on my mind for a little while, "what. . . what's the colour that overtakes the sky before it gets dark? It makes you feel safe and happy, somewhere between the gradient of light and dark," I describe the best as possible, wanting the most realistic answer.

"What about when you're running so fast, everything around you is a blur of colour in motion, what's that one?" He answers everything I have to ask, almost dumbfounded that I don't already know. I understand his amusement, but I've never had anyone else match the names to the picture for me before. Now he can do it for me.

I've been seeing for what feels like so long now, though I've been so captivated by the mesmerizing hues of the scenery to even remember that colours have names. Many of them are obvious, like green, for example. You look at something green and just know it's green. Many are not so obvious, like pink and orange.

As we continue talking, I flow into a rhythm of breath and slowly fall asleep.

~ • ~

I fold the blankets perfectly neat, placing the pillow on top. Morrison does the same, and we step aside to say goodbye to the kind man.

He reached to my hand at my side, firmly holding it infront of me to shake. It's a wholesome gesture, a goodbye and a goodluck. He lets go of my hand and says goodbye, to which makes me eternally grateful for this man. He helped us for no reason at all.

Morrison and I make our way to the edge of the pack, a final wave of sadness reaching me fully.

He turns to me and give me a slight squeeze on the shoulder. "I'll see you again." I state lastly, not even wanting him to reply. I don't know if I will, honestly. If we do, I'll be stronger and I won't be dependent on him to be my guide and teacher.

Shifting, he makes his way left and continues slowly, until I hear him speed up and his feet smack the ground further and further away. It gets quiet and suddenly I'm left in a pool of silence. I have nothing left but my own company.

Doing the same, I shift, and move slowly in the opposite direction. I say goodbye to the pack in my head, and one last goodbye to Morrison.

Let's see what I can do on my own.

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Word Count: 1794