How I wished I could voice the utter agony and confusion of my newly born soul. How I wished I had the ability to cry out the very immensity of the anger and desperation that raked my mind and heart. The mute instrument of my mouth confounds and frustrates me deeply. I know what it is I feel and yet I am trapped in my resounding brain. The barren trees raced by as I stumbled further and further from that hovel in which I hid for the better part of the year; away from the hatred on those villagers' faces and the loathing in their shouting throats. The cold froze my muscles as they bunched in my legs, carrying me further away. The longing in my soul for their community and warmth changed quickly to broken rejection as I realized how they viewed me. Aye, their very contorted expressions of utter horror confirmed that I am not but a beast.
The sun above disappeared beyond the arms of the dead trees, casting the snow laden world into a glow of sodden twilight. No sound of dogs and pursuit followed me now as I slowed, catching freezing air in my laboring lungs. There was not a noise but the wind moaning through the forest. Not a bird song broke the stillness of falling snow and my crunching steps. My hands were quickly freezing and it frightened me that I did not know what would happen if I was to get too cold. The emptiness of the world promised no pain beyond loneliness therefore I took it upon myself to tread deeper into the wilderness. Perhaps there I might learn my place in this hostile, terrifying world, hidden from the eyes of hateful men.
Anger flared in my borrowed heart as I thought of my creator, of his eyes that were triumphant and amazed only to turn into horrified loathing and fear. How could he have created me only to cast me into this purgatory alone? I am but a babe to this new place and have been left to fend for myself.
Growling in inarticulate rage, I paused there, barely shod feet freezing in the wet snow, to ponder once again the circumstances of my birth and what I truly was. Am I indeed alive? True, I feel pain and pleasure but am I alive? Do I possess a soul as those people do who crowded around a Bible? And what fate am I destined to live out? A shudder of a fever raced up my spine. Perhaps this is a topic best reserved for less hazardous times.
The night seeped into my grayish skin, chilling the blood in my veins. I knew I needed shelter somewhere and soon. If serious contemplation was put into the subject, it might've been better if I just lay down and died. Therefore, I did not contemplate it.
No sufficient shelter was to be found as I wandered, huge arms wrapped about myself in a feeble attempt at warmth. Over the next hour, stumbling hopelessly in the deep winter dark, I found an ill-used road. At a glance, I saw a pair of wagon tracks imprinted in the snow heading west, away from Ingolstadt. Due to the little snow that covered the thin lines, I guessed that it must have passed by recently. Perhaps the wagon was heading to a town in the forest.
Infinite wariness warred with desperation in me as I trod down the snowy road. Hunger stabbed in my gut like sharp blows and my lungs ached from inhaling the frozen air. To whom I am not sure but I prayed for warmth, even if it was temporary.
