There's only so much isolation a person can take. Humans are social creatures after all—well, half-humans at least. Werewolves, in my case. But I've seemed to live under such conditions for the past two months.
Most would say I've stretched the limit by now—likely gone insane from this loneliness which I won't lie, I sometimes have. The countless nights of crying myself to sleep—craving the touch of someone else—will never amount to the crushing heartache that consumes me every day. But I have to remind myself that there's a purpose behind it all. Because if I don't, I might break in two—I might lose the people I care most about in life. And I don't know how I would be able to live with that much guilt.
Sitting on the ledge of a fairly steep mountain, I look over the snow-filled landscape that's practically ingrained itself into my mind. I chew through the unappetizing raw deer meat I just finished hunting for, enjoying the scenic view of the place I've called home for the past two months.
The sun has begun to set against the horizon as its coral and lavender shades intensify the fading sky. The faint image of the moon appears amongst the twinkling stars as the bright ball of gas dims along with its beautiful colors. But my attention stays focused on the moon, staring up at it and sadly smiling.
You know, doing that isn't going to make Moon Goddess want to speak to you, Delphine—my wolf—says down our bond.
Oh, shut up. Can I just enjoy our solar system without your commentary? I retort.
Whatever.
Still bossy as always, Delphine and I have created what one would call a love-hate relationship during these sixty days of solitude. Being alone with a second conscience does seem to suffice for the lack of actual social interactions, but Delphine is like a wild rodent who constantly refuses to listen to me. I primarily blame her attitude on her uncooperative behavior though.
We've been able to connect more deeply with one another since the beginning of this isolation, taking a few hours each day to have conversations about our wellbeing, establishing boundaries when it comes to who's in control when I shift, and most importantly, learning how to understand each other's feelings. But relying on one another hasn't proven to be very beneficial in the process of finding stability within our relationship. Naturally, Delphine allows her emotions to overpower her rationality and sometimes barely considers the consequences.
Even with every day relapsing the last—every day finding myself waking up feeling the same way—our strengthening bond gives me hope that it won't be too long until I can see him again.
There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about him—about the repercussions of my choice to disappear from his life. I can only imagine the amount of emotional pain I've put him through because of my decision. And despite how badly I want to tell him everything—how badly I want to hold him again and never let go—it would all mean returning to Phantomridge or revealing my location in the process. I know if we were to ever see each other again, he'll never allow me to leave again. Then, these two months would've all been for nothing.
Mates. The very bond between us that's been the cause of my panic attacks, heartache, and nightmares. There are moments when I'm out hunting in this mysterious forest that I swear I can feel his presence for a heartbeat—it's always faint, but still there to haunt me. Today wasn't one of those days though. And the last time I had felt something even close to a wisp of a tug was weeks ago.
Every day is a battle with myself and my mind. I continue to worry for his safety even with the distance between us. But if this battle doesn't ease up soon, I'll surely reach my breaking point. The war has been raging on during the two months I've been stuck in confinement with Delphine. With that, picking a secluded place to stay became a difficult task after I had last spoken to Moon Goddess. I managed though, finding an abandoned cabin to use for shelter that's plenty far from the battlefield. Far from Phantomridge and Samuel.
I didn't have many options when picking a place to temporarily call home, needing it to be in the middle of nowhere, or else someone would be able to easily track me down. Thanks to Delphine, she's taught me more than enough about the natural instincts and urges of wolves, including how powerful the bond between two mates is. Mates are able to find each other's scents from farther ranges, meaning I'm more susceptible to being sniffed out by Samuel versus one of his warriors.
Once I finish eating a good chunk of the uncooked deer, I carry what's left of it inside the rundown cabin and store it away for later. Having to scavenge for my own food has proven to be easier than I initially imagined. These days of solitude have allowed me to grow accustomed to such savagery things—the wilderness has adapted to my addition.
The cabin I've been lodging in seems to be significantly older than me. Its desolate state says that much about it, at least. Whoever lived here prior to abandoning it left everything behind for the next scavenger though—as if they were in some kind of hurry.
Most of the furniture is still somewhat intact except for the fact that some things are completely unusable—shattered by whatever creature rampaged through here long ago—and others have begun to mold with the amount of water leaking through the cracks in the ceiling. On top of that, the cabin lacks any electricity, forcing me to rely on the sun for my light, and the plumbing doesn't work at all. But I've tried to make it all work.
My first few nights, I managed to find a handful of candles in a closet along with a dusty lighter, only using them when I'm desperate since my supply is limited. And when referring to desperate, I mean when the darkness becomes unbearable for me to attempt to sleep through anymore.
When I initially searched the entirety of the cabin, I found a trunk of old, overly-sized clothes in the cluttered attic, using them to cover my nakedness and to keep my warmth in. While clothes aren't necessary given the ridiculous amount of heat my new body already creates, I still dress out of decency--that lingering human side still a part of me. Besides, the chilling wind that runs through the creaky building every few minutes still seems to send shivers through my bones.
After putting away my kill, I wander back to my notorious couch—where I've been sleeping on during my stay here and the last sofa that's still in one piece. It's not exactly the cleanest place I could've chosen, but I've managed to make a home for myself on it. The pileup of blankets reveals the countless nights I've slept on it. From afar, the heap is indefinitely larger than my body frame, Nevertheless, I cover myself in all five of them once I'm settled into the cushions.
There's only one bedroom in this cabin—its size being fairly small, to begin with—but when I attempted to sleep on the queen-sized mattress, something about that room made me lose more sleep than I gained. So I opted for the couch instead after several restless nights.
I already know it'll be impossible to find a sense of drowsiness until dawn. It's the same routine every night—I'll close my eyes to only see him. His face is everywhere in my dreams. It never erases itself from my memory, but how could it ever anyway? And when I do eventually fall asleep from the overwhelming exhaustion, I'll imagine the feeling of his hands touching me and mine doing the same. The feeling of his rough skin against my own, us intertwining with balanced electricity flowing between us—that same kind we had exchanged the last night I saw him.
But instead, I'm left to my deafening thoughts and the strange sounds of the Ancient Forest that surround the cabin. Delphine has been eerily quiet for a while now. I know the loneliness is consuming her just as it is me—we both miss our mate dearly.
Are you awake? I ask her down our bond.
Yeah... she replies softly. I already sense the restlessness in her tone.
What's on your mind? I'm able to always tell if she's in a mood, and it's my job to make sure we're transparent with whatever's bothering us.
I don't know...A lot of stuff, she mumbles before subduing herself again.
Like...? I inquire.
She takes a moment before responding. I can feel everything you feel, Anastasia. All of your emotions for him are constantly pouring out of your conscience. And it's so agonizing for me to have to endure it all.
Since he's our mate, shouldn't you be feeling the same way too? C'mon Delphine, you've been so closed off with your feelings for him since we spoke to Moon Goddess. I still remember how you reacted when we first laid eyes on him—how ecstatic you were.
She hushes herself again. I've noticed it's a habit she's formed whenever I criticize her emotions towards Samuel. But I never understand why. If we're supposed to share this bond—share all of these intimate feelings—then shouldn't she be just as distraught as I am with how long this isolation has gone on for? Is it so wrong for me to feel so upset that I was forced into this situation in the first place?
I'm just scared, Ana. What if when we see him again he rejects us after everything we've done? What if I accidentally hurt him with our powers? The worry grows in her tone as the words spill down our bond.
Delphine, he's our mate. I doubt he feels any different than we do right now—he's only concerned for our wellbeing. And he's probably eager to see us again too, I reassure her. But reassurance isn't a guarantee. She could be right, he could be so enraged with us that he'll reject us when this hell finally ends.
The countless ideas and situations race through my mind as I turn to face the pitch-black sky beyond the sliding glass door that leads out to the back patio. The crescent moon only partially illuminates the Ancient Forest and the snowy void beyond the dark timber. I wrap the layers of blankets tighter around my frail frame as if they'll keep out the horrible thoughts consuming my clear conscience.
It takes nearly four hours of overthinking and sobbing into my pillow until my mind finds equilibrium with itself. And with that, I succumb to a sleeping state.
