Sail on silver wings through this storm

What fortune love may bring back to my arms again,

The love of a former golden age.

I am disabled by fears concerning which course to take.

For now that wheels are turning,

I find my faith deserting me...

This night is filled with cries of

Dispossessed children in search of Paradise.

A sign of un-resolve that,

Envisioned, drives the pinwheel on-and-on.

I am disabled by fears concerning which course to take.

When memory bears witness to

The innocence consumed in dying rage

The way lies through our love;

There can be no other means to the end,

Or keys to my heart...

You will never find.

You will never find…

"In Power We Trust The Love Advocated" by The Gathering

"Coyote is always out there waiting, and Coyote is always hungry" –Navajo proverb

Wanderer

A cold chill passed through my body as more feathers gently drifted down, dancing and twisting before landing. Slowly, I tilted my head back, looking for the thing I knew was already there. Above me, hidden among the tree branches with his ebony wings folded gracefully behind him, sat Jin. I held my breath, hoping that the sun would hurry up already and lighten the sky, for perhaps the light would chase him away. Unfortunately for me, dawn took its time, and several stubborn shadows still lingered.

"Didn't I tell you it was dangerous to walk in the streets alone? Darkness has not yet disappeared completely."

I averted my gaze and instead pretended to be interested in the sidewalk beneath my sneakers. Knowing that running would be useless, I stayed where I was and sighed deeply, trying in vain to find some kind of calm.

"Someone could see you," I whispered softly, so softly I doubted Jin could hear me. "How will you explain your presence if a person sees you?"

Jin laughed gently, a sound that sent shivers slithering up my skin. "Do you think I would really care?"

"No…but the Devil is not a creature of light, Jin. You belong in the shadows. Leave me alone."

He quieted, but only for a moment, then said, "Come back to me, Julia."

The sky lightened slightly, the Arizona sun beginning to emerge from behind the clouds, and I took a few steps forward in a sudden temptation to run. The air began to moisten, to heat, and already little beads of sweat formed on my skin. Or was that from the fear?

"Do you intend to run your whole life?" Jin asked softly, and this time my eyes met his.

"Well, you managed to do it just fine yourself. So, yes, if I have to, I'm sure I can pull it off," I replied harshly, and Jin's face hardened into a mask of anger.

"Don't speak of things you don't understand," he snarled, "If you had my curse you would be running too."

I shook my head with a bitter smile. "The Gene is only a small portion of this, Jin. You still don't understand."

The sky was now a rosy pink, and with renewed confidence I continued onward. I could hear the rustling of the trees as Jin struggled to keep up with me and remain unseen at the same time.

"What can I do to make you come back to me? You must understand that I am also Jin Kazama! The Gene does not have me completely yet…" he pleaded.

Ignoring him, I only quickened my pace in response.

"Julia, listen to me. Without you I have no chance of overcoming the Gene. You have to help me! Are you just going to let me be taken over like this?"

Was he trying to persuade me using guilt? Damn him. Turning on him in a sudden rage, I snarled, "Don't pull that bullshit on me; you're pathetic, Jin Kazama. Leave me alone; I will not say it again. You've done enough."

Suddenly, Jin swooped down from the trees towards me, and as he reached out, he managed to seize my wrist in one lighting swift motion. Seeing how my nerves were already on fire from the adrenaline, I immediately shoved him off, then followed with a vicious palm strike to his chin, snapping his head back. Rolling away quickly, I then regained my balance, knees bent and fists raised.

"Let's just end this right now, Jin. I won't let you do this to me," I panted, beginning to circle around him. It was risky to challenge him, stupid as well, but at the moment it was either fight or flight. And right now, I needed to give running a break.

He shook his head slightly and rubbed at his chin where I had struck him. It was a powerful strike, painful, but instead of reacting to the attack Jin instead remained motionless. "No, I don't want to fight you."

"And why not? We both know that I'll never come back to you. It's over; deal with it. So why don't you stop following me and just fight!"

"No. I would never hurt you," was his quiet reply, and at that I uttered a bitter laugh, a sound so harsh it caused a flicker of sorrow to cross Jin's face.

"You know, all I wanted was to love you. I tried many times to understand. But unless you can bring back my mother, I will never feel that way again," I said softly, and my knuckles began to ache from my tightly clenched fists.

The Japanese man then cast his gaze to the heavens where the sky was finally beginning to turn white. In the distance I could hear the soft murmuring of the larks as they stirred from their slumber, and the soft clangs of church bells as the city came to life. A small gray sliver was all that remained of the moon, and wispy, pale clouds crawled in to take its place.

Jin flashed me one last longing look before he took to the sky. "You're right; I belong in the shadows. But that doesn't mean I will not come for you, Julia. Run as far as you want, but know that I will always find you."

The sky flashed with a brief golden brilliance as the sun emerged from the clouds, and in that moment Jin vanished.

I did not see Jin for a long while after that, but that did not mean that he was not present. For at night, when the light retreated, he came to me in dreams…

On and on it went like this, the days of travelling and the haunted nights, the same routine over and over again, and soon time had no meaning. It could have been three days, three weeks, possibly three months, but it didn't matter. All that I cared about was staying alive and, though my mother taught me not to hate, my heart hated anyway. I did nothing to try to suppress it for I knew no other way to feel. It's very easy to hate. Trying to love Jin, trusting him, was a constant battle, but hating him was so simple, so relieving. It was an empty kind of hatred, the kind that left you feeling hollow and barren after the anger abated, and there was always nothing but the raw heat and the loathing. It was a useless emotion.

Survival mode kicked in, and I soon found myself unable to stay still in one place for more than a few days. Always on the move, I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder, dagger and fists at the ready, eyes open and aware, every nerve on fire, legs poised to flee and run at any moment, yet at the same time ready to face the relentless shadows that plagued my footsteps. I was a vagabond now, a wanderer, driven by fear and regret, resentment and pure survival instinct, and a fierce desire to overcome the failures of my past, one being Jin Kazama. At first, all of this had been about avenging my mother's spirit and making Jin suffer for what he had done. But now, after all of these days of solitude, I began to think differently.

Perhaps I sought forgiveness at the same time, maybe even a sense of peace. The world just seemed so crazy right now; I couldn't think clearly. The earth was always around me, but somehow I felt as if she was missing, because nowadays I barely noticed her beauty like I used to.

For I know that somewhere out there, beyond that sunset, beyond this fear and these mistakes, lies serenity. And to have just a little taste of it would be enough for me.

I know what you're thinking. So your mommy and cousin are dead—so what. Get over it, be stronger; stop with the angst and resentment crap and just beat the shit out of that Kazama jackass. Stop running and just deal with him right now!

But is it really that easy? If it was then wouldn't we all be happy? Wouldn't all of our problems be solved? Michelle was my life. Without her, I now have nothing. And as for Jin…well, you already know that part, don't you. Besides, if I hadn't run, then I would never have—well, we'll get there soon enough.

Anyway, in my eyes, to complete this journey was to be alone, and that was the only option.

But the loneliness wasn't so bad at times. It kept me strong, kept me wary, and reminded me of all that the Mishima's had done to my family. But when night fell and I found myself curled up in some moldy motel room, solitary and with only the cold wind blowing kisses at my window, I felt the longing, the hollowness. That hard, relentless throbbing deep in my chest refused to go away, and it returned every night to accompany me in place of the tears. I heard my mother's voice sometimes…but then again, that could just be Jin screwing with my head.

And just when I thought that I'd go crazy from the silence and the solitude, that fortress of ice would erect itself, and I'd move on once more. I was a survivor by nature, an adapter, just as my Native American ancestors were hundreds of years ago. The Earth sang in my veins, flowed in my blood, and I managed to find a way.

But if I thought that I'd make this journey alone, then I was greatly mistaken.

As I lie awake in the motel bed, staring out the window at the moonless sky, I remembered the coyote. I remembered his coat, coarse and gray, and how that had only added to his beauty. There had been a deceptive shine to his pelt, an alluring trait that hid all other flaws. There was the pink tongue, the hard yet gentle yellow eyes, and the playful grin right before the vicious bite.

I'd had plenty of opportunities to run from that cave, but the coyote's initial friendly banter had kept me in place. He had seemed so harmless, strangely beautiful, misunderstood…

And as I drifted off into sleep, the image of the coyote rippled and distorted as it was replaced with Jin's obsidian eyes and cold stare.

He smiled at me, a single hand extended.

"Come back to me, Julia. You didn't mean what you said," he whispered.

Dark eyes slowly ebbed to deep crimson and that's when I began to panic. In the dream, I emitted a sound I did not know myself capable of creating. It was a strangled noise, frantic, like some trapped animal, and I couldn't seem to quell the sound. Again and again I tried to run, to flee Jin's temptations, but everywhere I looked I saw only his face.

"I love you. Please come back to me."

"Never!" I screamed, and the moon turned as scarlet as blood. It began to undulate, to bleed, and black feathers fell from the sky. I suddenly felt Jin's powerful grip on my hand, making me scream as he found the scar and squeezed, the pain scorching my skin.

"Then I will make you."

I woke up in a cold sweat a moment later and immediately began to pack away my belongings. It hadn't even been a full day and already I was leaving the motel, for with the coming of this nightmare I knew that Jin was close. It hadn't been my first dream since my departure from Mexico, and each one had always instilled fear within me. The best option was just to keep moving.

One part of me was glad that Jin was following me for that it meant that my plan was working—Arizona and my people were safe. But the other half feared that I would be a wanderer forever, a woman with no purpose, no family, no home, no life…

Well…shit happens.

I often wondered why Jin didn't just kill me and get it over with, why he had refused to fight me right after I'd just broken his heart. It would have been so easy and yet he insisted on silently following me and tormenting me with dreams. Was he that desperate for my companionship? For my love? If so, then that only made me fear him even more. Loneliness does things to people, I guess. I should know.

After slinging the backpack over my shoulders, I left the motel quickly, and on the way, flung the desk clerk my room key without a backward glance. I could almost see the old man's blue-eyed glare as I let the door slam. Ever since I'd arrived at his motel he'd been holding a grudge against me, but for good reason. Julia Chang no longer cared about courtesy and hospitality anymore after all, especially with strangers.

Sighing, I glared at the empty asphalt road in front of me. Where to go next…Well, according to the little signpost next to the road, I was now in Wyoming, a state I knew next to nothing about, only that it wasn't nearly as hot as Arizona. Had I really traveled that far? Sighing, I pushed the thought out of my mind and continued on. What did it matter anyway?

The Wyoming sun shined softly today, and I was grateful, for my body was weary and no breeze blew to relieve some of the heat. Pulling out an apple, I adjusted the glasses on my nose and took a bite of the fruit. However, knowing that it wouldn't sustain me, I searched for a restaurant.

What I found was more like a bar and with the dimly lit room and the overwhelming stench of cigarette smoke, the place was anything but inviting. I should have settled for a nice, simple Asian bistro, not a gruff, all-American biker pub. But for the moment, hunger was more important than a nice ambience, so I entered.

Neon beer signs hung from crooked nails on the grimy walls, a gray haze of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, and boisterous laughter competed with Metallica's "Wherever I May Roam," which blared from an old jukebox. The music seemed to shake the whole place, and I could feel my eardrums beginning to ache.

The moment I entered, all eyes turned to me; I obviously stood out, since my version of their leather was blue jeans and a brown, cotton T-shirt. And, looking around the room, I realized I'd never seen so much black leather and tattoos in my life. Most of the people within were dingy, burly biker men and women with their red bandanas and wild hair, large bottles of beer clutched within stubby fingers, and thin cigarettes protruding sickly between yellowed mouths. Let's just say they weren't the most attractive people I've seen.

However, I swallowed my uneasiness and took a seat at the bar.

"Sprite for me please," I ordered, folding my hands in front of me.

The bartender, a thirty-something-year-old white sleaze bag with an unkempt beard, looked me up and down several times and smiled slowly.

"Drink's on the house, darlin'," he said with a sly smile, and placed a large cup of whiskey in front of me.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't drink. I'm only twenty," I tried to explain.

Everyone around me laughed, continuing to stare.

The bartender smiled wider and leaned in close so I could smell his breath. I didn't even try to conceal my disgust as he exhaled, turning my head away in distaste.

"Looks like our little visitor don't know the rules! How lucky for me. Listen, as long as you're decent looking, darlin', age don't matter here in my bar. So, drink up. Later on, you and me can uh," he winked, "chat."

Gritting my teeth, I pushed the whiskey away, and warned, "Please, sir, I don't wanna have to hurt you. Now, about that Sprite…"

The laughter increased and the bartender's grin only grew; I could already feel my muscles aching for combat. "A feisty one, are ya? Well, I—"

"For Christ's sake, Mel, just give the girl her goddamn drink."

I turned to find the source of the voice and discovered a man sitting off by himself. What really caught my attention was his hair—it stuck straight up, like a stiff hairbrush, and the slight shadows of a blond beard lined his chin and upper lip.

The bartender named Mel grumbled slightly and replied, "Dammit, Paul, you always ruin everything. I was just bein' nice."

My rescuer, Paul, (more like Mel's rescuer) shook his head and took a sip of his drink. Well, I'd found my new seat.

After I'd received my Sprite and ordered a sandwich, I went over to him and sat down without asking. Sipping my drink, I noticed he was obviously a motorcyclist as well, with his leather jacket and pants; but, surprisingly, he possessed a friendly face and a courteous demeanor.

"Thank you," I finally said before taking a bite of my food.

He merely shrugged. "It's nothing. These guys, especially Mel, that joke of a bartender, can get so sleazy sometimes; it pisses me off. I only come here for the beer."

My mouth twisted slightly in the beginnings of a half smile, but I left it at that. Though I'd just met him, I decided that I liked this Paul character. Of course, he wasn't to be trusted, but at least I had found a friendly face.

"Paul Phoenix," he introduced, extending his hand, and I shook it politely.

"Julia," I replied simply, deciding not to give him my surname, and I noticed how Paul accepted it without question.

"But don't worry, even though this place is where we bikers hang out, it usually ain't so bad, especially when Mel's gone. He's just subbing for Raleigh at the moment."

"Who's Raleigh?" I asked, wanting to talk more. I had forgotten how good it felt to carry on a conversation with someone.

"The real owner of the bar. Last week he got beat up by some red-haired Korean jackass. He had to be hospitalized and the redhead got away before I could punish him for hurting Raleigh."

"That's a shame. Why would he do that?"

"Who knows. He could kick vicious though, the little punk. Relatively good fighter…but not as good as me."

At this Paul grinned and took another sip of his beer. "So if any of these guys try and give you trouble, just look for me."

I thanked him politely, but concealed the smirk behind my Sprite. Paul obviously had no idea what I was capable of; I didn't need a man to defend me.

As if to prove my point, when I got up from my seat to get a refill, a nearby biker reached out and smacked my behind. He laughed shamelessly, as if he'd done nothing wrong, and I felt the familiar anger beginning to take form. Turning to him nice and slow, I felt my fists balling up.

"You want some more, honey? 'Cause these talented hands can do many other things to that fine little ass o' yours," he sneered, and his companions erupted into laughter. The smirk on my face widened.

Before the bastard could react, I'd sent an uppercut into his face, then followed up with a hard elbow strike to his gut. He staggered backward, the table behind him turning over, and glass shattered onto the wooden floor. When he recovered, a smile lit up his face, and he gingerly touched his bleeding lip.

"Well what do'ya know! This little bitch knows how to fight! But that was a mistake, darling. Nobody gets away with that," he snarled, and lunged for me. However, I never gave him the chance to attack.

Let's just say that in the next few seconds he found himself slammed up against the wall with my knee pressed up tight against his groin. He squirmed in my grasp, but although he was nearly twice my size, he didn't dare make a move.

"You wanna apologize, or should I rearrange your crotch?" I growled into his ear. As predicted, the biker apologized profusely, and I reluctantly released him. Typical. Men will do anything when their balls are in jeopardy.

Before leaving, I turned around to relish the shock and admiration on Paul Phoenix's face. The rest of the bar was surprised as well, especially Mel, whose mouth was wide open. I guess he did get lucky—lucky that it wasn't he that had been stupid enough to make a move on the "visitor."

"See you," I said to Paul with a curt nod, then walked out.

However, Paul wouldn't let me get away so easily. Once he'd caught up with me, he asked, "What was that back there? That was unbelievable; how come you never told me you could fight like that?"

I shrugged. "We've only just met. Besides, there are lots of things you never get to know about people."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Man, Julia, too bad you didn't come sooner. I've had to put up with those perverts for forever. Now they'll think twice before pinching another ass."

"Good. Women deserve better than that," I stated flatly.

Paul stopped me suddenly with a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Hey. Why are you here anyway?"

"Long story," I sighed, looking off into the distance, "and I've got neither the time nor the desire to retell it."

He was quiet for awhile, respecting my privacy, and I was grateful to him for it. The last thing I needed right now was some annoying little snoop wanting to know every detail of my life.

After a moment, Paul said, "My bike's out back…"

Before he could finish, I uttered, "Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to walk."

What I didn't say was that I had no idea where I was going, and I couldn't have told Paul a destination anyway. Also, this journey was one of solitude. Paul was kind, and he was the first guy in a long time that wasn't trying to hit on me. He'd make a nice friend…but I didn't have time for those anymore.

The blonde biker was silent once more, then said, "Well, then I hope you stop by again."

"Sure." I highly doubted it, but I gave him the lie he wanted to hear.

Paul paused, then murmured, "And Julia, I hope you find whatever you're looking for."

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged before he said, "A woman like you wandering around alone in such a boring state like Wyoming just doesn't strike me as normal, you know?"

The half smile returned. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Yeah…well anyway, thanks for stopping by. Good luck."

"Thanks. See you, Paul," I said with a little wave, and continued onward without a backward glance.

Jin

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it is yours.

You know what? I hate that damn cliché.

I never set her free. She's not coming back…so she definitely will never be mine again. I fucking hate that cliché.

Watching her now, walking alone on that abandoned road in Wyoming, I realized again that she truly didn't love me. I felt her fear, observed as she looked over her shoulder, eyes darting back and forth, breath coming in quick, short bursts, heartbeat crazy with paranoia. I hated seeing her like this, for I knew that Julia had changed so much. That woman I'd fallen in love with had vanished. The worst part was knowing that I was the cause of it all.

Fine. So be it. She had been the only good thing that happened to me, and now she's gone. Julia Chang was the only reason why I kept fighting, the only reason why I continued to seek a cure…but now she felt only fear and hatred for me, and so was it worth it anymore?

Obviously not. And that's why I surrender.

Closing my eyes, I felt the light dwindling. I felt the remnants of the goodness vanish, and for the first time in my life I welcomed the Gene. Its poison seeped into my blood, instilling itself deep within my heart, and then, perhaps, my soul. I knew that succumbing was irreversible, dangerous, stupid, but I allowed it anyway; I have grown weary of searching for an antidote. Being a good man was more difficult than I'd perceived.

It was painless, and I smiled sadly, wondering why I hadn't done it earlier. It would have made everything so much easier.

"This is for you, Jules."

Gritting my teeth, I felt the claws unsheathe, wings shredding my back as they viciously emerged, dark tattoo on my shoulder searing my skin as the transformation completed. The Devil Gene burned through my blood, set my nerves on fire, and I felt an unexpected, renewed energy scorch through my body. Opening my mouth, I wailed to the night, celebrating and mourning my birth into darkness.

A moment later, somewhere close, a wolf answered my call. It was a cry of defiance, and a sudden, unexpected chill crawled underneath my skin as his voice pierced through the trees. He refused to acknowledge my power, refused to share the night with me, rejected my presence. I smirked; he should not be so audacious. He dared challenge me?

Rage seeped into my chest as the wolf silently emerged from the forest; his black pelt kept him hidden in the safety of the darkness, yet I could see the occasional flicker of his golden eyes. Baring knife-sharp canines, he uttered a low growl, hackles raised and eyes narrowed in a blatant threat. Angered, I struck out at him but swiped only air as the wolf turned and fled, disappearing, becoming of the shadows.

All was silent, but I knew that somewhere out there, deep within the gloom of the forest, the black wolf watched and waited.

Somehow, I knew I would see him again.

…And the earth becomes my throne

I adapt to the unknown

Under wandering stars I've grown

By myself but not alone...

Rover, wanderer

Nomad, vagabond

Call me what you will…

From"Wherever I May Roam" by Metallica