Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries is the property of the CW. No copyright infringement is intended.
~ x ~
He strode toward the clearing, shedding his clothes as he went. Boots heeled off first, then the Henley pulled over his head and tossed, not caring that he was momentarily blinded. He didn't care that the chain he habitually wore around his neck got ripped off with the shirt. Pants unzipped and pushed down over narrow hips, walking and stepping out of them, tripping, catching his balance, and flailing around, using one foot to hold the jeans down so the other could step out. He impatiently shook off the other pant leg.
Finally, naked at last, he quickly covered the last hundred yards to the clearing. Roots and pine cones bruised and dug into feet that healed as fast as they were damaged.
He walked to the center of the clearing and gazed up at the bright full moon shining in the evening sky. He raised his arms in supplication, adoration, he knew not what.
"You are my true mother!" he cried out, followed by a whispered, "You are the only mother who ever loved me."
He dropped his arms to his sides, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. He felt it coming, but didn't want to force it. He wanted the moon to pull it from his core, from the marrow in his bones.
It came in a rush, boiling his blood, freezing his brain. He welcomed the first cracked bones in his hands and feet, the snapping of bone moving up his limbs towards the trunk of his body. He felt his organs, shrinking, shuffling, trying to find room in his changing body. He didn't fear the pain, he relished it. His mouth and nose elongated turning into a muzzle, his ears pointed. He was becoming what he was born to be.
Mixing with the pain and finally overcoming it was a heightened sense of smell. He could pick out cricket feces in the dense undergrowth, the scent of prey a mile away.
Yellow eyes saw the world slightly different. Movement caught and held his attention. His ears twitched as a mouse skittered in the undergrowth.
Sleek muscles moved sinuously beneath a black and shiny fur coat. His bushy tail, if wrapped around his body, was more than adequate to keep him warm on a cold night. His big paws and long legs would hold him steady and sure on the hunt.
Something's wrong! What is it I feel?
He was a solitary creature when nature had intended his kind to be part of a pack. He yearned for the reassuring presence of other wolves.
No extended family to share the excitement of the hunt. No family to share the joy of the kill. No cubs at the den waiting for him to return with food. No ritual greetings to strengthen bonds.
Alone. Always alone.
He threw back his head and howled his anguish to Mother Moon, but she could offer no comfort to her son.
~FIN~