Disclaimer: I don't even own socks without holes.
"He was older than the days he had seen and the breaths he had drawn" Jack London
Looking around him at the frivolity of his companions, he couldn't bring himself to join them, to dance and laugh and frolic as they did. The fire licked at the night sky teasingly close to the waxing moon, close enough for him to idly wonder if it could be burned right from the sky. His attention was returned from above by a piercing yell from someone spinning too close to a burning branch. Closing his eyes he laid back on the damp grass, blocking out the firelight and the blasted moon. She was his captor, his creator, his tormentor and he was bound to her for the rest of this existence. The night before the new moon was his favorite – blissful darkness, the constant pull from the one within quieted and the chance for him to be one instead of two.
Singed flesh tickled his nostrils mixing with damp soil, rabbit and the ever-present scent of dog and teenaged boy swirled together to smell like home. The one within growled, aroused and eager to run free but he fought it, pushing it back to its place deep inside. This was not it's time, tonight was his but he couldn't, wouldn't enjoy it. He saw no sense in dancing around the fire, no reason to wrestle in the shadows, no purpose for the raucous noise, but still he came and endured to keep from being more separate than he already was.
The dog-boy scent got stronger as heavy warmth spread down one side, exciting the one within once more. It didn't want to fight and run, it wanted to nuzzle and be comforted. Turning into the warmth he allowed himself to be surrounded and anchored in the here and now.
