I had lost my pack.
Things weren't so bad in the beginning, but
I just couldn't stay anymore. I had to run. I didn't even want to think about how bad things had become.
It made me
feel like a failure, not just for running away, but also for allowing things to get as bad as they had become. That's probably
why I didn't like thinking about it. Self-blame did me no good.
I chose a random direction. And began to walk.
Days and nights passed, and I had no idea where I was going. Eventually I had made it back to
one of our old haunts, a place where the pack no longer hunted, but was still
filled with memories of a much better childhood.
I would make
a new home here.
It could've been anywhere I suppose, but at least
I was familiar with the valleys and lakes here. Here
I would start over. And
if I were lucky, find a new pack and a new family.