A/N: Hello, here is my attempt at Wolf Children. Not sure how it will go but here we are! Please let me know what you think!

Challenges: Diversity Writing Challenge: C24. Write a Post-Canon fic.

I walk through the rain every day. It smells, always smells in the city. Sometimes it's of oil, others of old meat and new groceries and rubber from little kids and their rain clothes. One of the few things I miss from home is the smell of just rain and nature. Sometimes it mixes with dirt and plants but mostly it's water and the smell is sweet and makes me think of Ame.

I don't miss him as much as before.

When mom first looked towards the mountains, and said he had gone, I had gone after him, shedding my clothes and my human self and running to him, howling for him. I wanted to bring him home, of course I did. No matter what mom said, I wanted him to come home, to have at least said goodbye the proper way, to have listened when mom said no.

I had wished he had said a better goodbye than telling me to stay home.

He never came out, then. I didn't think he would have, but I looked until my paws were sore and when I was human again my hands and feet were bleeding and blistered.

Mom had carried me home, no matter my protests. It was the last time she did.

He never came back, Ame, I mean. Mom said he left tokens on the porch and when she went to the trees, to where the creatures roamed, to give him a new scarf, or simply talked, nothing attacked her. The gifts were always gone when she looked back too.

I think the animals knew her, knew us, because nothing ever touched me either.

I hardly ever went. I didn't belong on the side Ame was on. I liked the human children. I liked being around them.

Even so, I never resisted the urge to yelp and run and be me, the me that wasn't just pretty, whenever I could.

Mom respected that, or maybe she loved that, about me, and never cried. I wish she had cried a little.

Even now, as I settle myself into the scratched up apartment that was once her little flat with dad (I know those teeth marks anywhere.), I wish she had cried. Her letters always looked a little faded on the ink.

I dunno what to say to her anymore. I go on and on about school and friends and my crush.

All I get in return is: here are some vegetables I grew.

Somehow, it always warms my heart and hurts it.

Yet, as I went home day in and day out, I felt the eyes on me.

They weren't human either.