It was all blurry this time. Never been anyone keener and more passionate than him in the herd since he killed his father. He could always smell nothing but hatred, fear and greed. For years, he was the one in the herd who fell in love with a corpse, killed it, tore it apart and drank blood till dawn. But this time, it was quite a night. He couldn’t smell death. He couldn’t hear the wind if it wasn’t storm. He couldn’t see his own shadow, under the moon light. He couldn’t even run as fast as he could before. Everything was like a dream, but an unknown and mysterious one. He couldn’t remember the night before when getting lost in a village, finding a friend got stuck in a dog-fight. He could remember nothing but a face. It wasn’t a wolf for sure. Something weaker indeed. Smaller and more like a human. But how could he survive? And whose face could it be if not purposed to kill him? He couldn’t sleep not only for these thoughts, but also for this unrevealed feeling he had tonight.
He could see the moon, bigger than ever, shining brighter and more meaningful. It looked like nothing he has ever seen. he could no longer find his herd. Found himself lost in the woods but instead of being sharp and looking for footprints, he could feel fear inside instead, mixed with a kind of hope he never felt. A hope with a company of guilt. What a word he’s never heard. What are these feelings all of a sudden?
He started panicking, couldn’t breathe in cold weather like before. The unknown face kept flashing in his mind and he still didn’t know what’s happening. kept walking in the middle of the night, alone, fighting the cruel snow that someday used to be his closest friend. He could now listen to the songs birds chirping and could see the green in the woods. But his power was diminishing as he was getting closer to a wooden shed. He wasn’t that thirsty or couldn’t feel the passion for blood. Instead, he was exhausted and out of nowhere, could feel a need to be embraced. Sat behind the back wall, closed his eyes and everything went black.
He could remember nothing as he opened his eyes. Could hear voices from home but wasn’t afraid at all and couldn’t think of any aggressive action. He just started to feel hope. A warm feeling he couldn’t understand. There was a familiar voice among all, shaking his stomach. He wondered if he has heard the voice before.
He couldn’t feel fear, and the louder the voices became, the more intense he could feel the hope inside.
My first attempt for joining a contest: https://steemit.com/twentyfourhourshortstory/@mctiller/writers-win-5-steem-twenty-four-hour-short-story-contest-for-march-6-topic-7-a-werewolf-that-turns-human-during-a-full-moon