Down The Cliff

I was a wolf. I was running as fast as I could in the forest, forgetting everything that happened to me. It was so wholesome that I didn’t have to think about anything else. Nothing mattered but running.

I felt freedom. Being one with the wind. For thirty years, I’ve never shifted once and here I was, running like a wolf. Nova was happy too. We were happy, ecstatic even. It was a feeling I’ve never felt before.

I kept running and running, the wind over my fur but I didn’t feel cold. On the contrary, I felt complete. I finally had the chance to become what I was, a werewolf. We rolled in the grass, chased a few rabbits but didn’t catch them and howled. For the first time, I felt like a child.

I didn’t care about anything else.

I only stopped when the moon felt so wholesome. I stared at it for a while before I heard a laugh.

When I saw who was laughing, I remembered my father, Brandon Wildknight.

“Petra was white like you,” he said. When he stood next to me, I realized I was taller than