watched the rain from my bedroom window before being called down for lunch. The raindrops streamed down the glass, and I tried to find meaning in the drawing. Part of me is always looking for answers in everything, waiting for the universe to give me clari

e feeling that the forest

like this. In my human form, there is a weird feeling in my stomach. The animals watch me like this, and I think it is because they believe me to be trespassing. In my more

to a small stream. Weeds and grass grow out of the clear, cold water and dance like they do not have a care in the world. My

mple-minded child. Grandmother tells me not to cross the stream, so I do not. But I want to. I really do. The curiosity burns my soul, and you may think I am dramatic-which I am-but I walk here a

tters to me, her voi

g my eyes at the stream's edge. I know that

e. My wolf usually has something sarcastic to

All I want to do is go home. It

house. One day I will cross over, and I will find out what is on the other side. Even if i

ng to darken, twilight bleeding into the horizon. It paints the world in purples and grays, and the forest shifts around me with it. T

alked these paths for years-before my first shift, before I e

poetic again,

ack. Let me h

't argue

ill ten years old and afraid of the dark. Maybe I still am, a little. Not the physical dark, not the kind that comes with nightfall, but the kind that creeps i

nge how something so small can hold such mystery. There's no magic mist floating above it, no mystical glow. Just clea

und like a portal,

e it

ridic

fun, I snap ba

kes me pause. My heart jumps-too much, really. But it's only a deer, lifti

ng for me to shift, to drop the human facade and be who I truly am. But I can't, not here, not

w," I whisper to the

d bounds off into the trees

mments. Maybe she feels it too-this strange tension, like so

eets me as I open the door. Warmth spills out, wrapping around me like a thick blanket. Inside,

and lean against it for a

trail again. And maybe then,

t o

to