All rights go to veronica roth.

A.N. hey, i'm sorry it has taken me so long to update this time, I was in costa rica for 9 days without my laptop, so I was unable to finish this chapter. I also figured out today that the day I am going to fly out to move to the dominican republic is december 20th, and I am really nervous about it, as I am never going to be able to come back to see my friends that I have known for years. On a brighter note, WE GOT 301 READS! I am so grateful for every single one of you, even just the people who just stopped by to glance at my story and left. You all have helped me so much, being a great outlet for my stress via writing, and helping to build my confidence as a new writer. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

I awake slowly to the sound of a mosquito hovering by my head. Without opening my eyes, I bat at it drowsily. My fur feels stiff, and I open my eyes to find most of the upper half of my body caked with dried blood, the dark red color especially bright against my blonde fur. The memories from last night rush back into my head with a jolt, almost as bad as the thudding dehydration headache I have.

I think back through the night and realize that I did not stop to drink last night after the erratic sprint here, crying myself out, and the hunt. I guess at the time I was thinking about other things, but now my thirst is all I can concentrate on. I rise slowly and stretch my stiff muscles before trotting towards a little creek in a clearing near my cave. After quenching my thirst, I begin to rub myself on the wet grass near the creek.

I have to keep myself moving to repress the memories of last night, and cleaning the remaining elk blood off of myself is my next task. The blood is thick, and was dried all night, so the grass isn't doing much to clean my fur. I brace myself and jump into the icy river, the cold seeping in through my thick bottom fur coat and hitting me with a jolt. It is not as cold as it would feel if I were human, but it is cold enough to make me screw my eyes closed and let my breath out with a gasp. I paddle to the surface, shivering harshly, and hop back on shore. The water loosened the blood, but it is still there. I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but I resign myself to cleaning myself with my tongue in a cat-like fashion.

Once my fur is mostly clean, dry, and lying flat against my body, I begin to make my way back to the tree I first changed by to retrieve the clothes I shed. As I am passing over the hillock I slept under, I catch the werewolf scent I smelled last night. I pause, deciding that I can always get my clothes later, but the scent could be washed away by a sudden rain at any time. I begin to follow the scent trail, my lithe body weaving quickly through the forest.

The scent is from last night, and can be hard to catch in a few places, but what I do follow leads me in a direction I have not gone in this forest, towards the other faction sections of the school. I emerge from the trees next to a small trickling brook, and immediately feel very exposed in my wolf form out of the cover of the trees. I did not go to retrieve my clothes earlier, so I cannot change to human form. I decide to just duck from shadow to shadow, and try to stay out of sight. It must be at least semi safe to be in my wolf form here anyway, because I can tell from the scent trail I am following that the werewolf continued in wolf form rather than shifting.

I slowly start to creep down the streets, ducking down to stay hidden. I am suddenly grateful for my small stature, because even though I am much larger than any dog or wolf, hiding would be much harder if I was the size of a normal werewolf. I am making slow progress forwards several minutes later, when I realize that I am passing the erudite section of school. There seems to be some kind of disturbance, and I am not able to contain myself. I slink behind one of the student dorm and peer out at the main courtyard.

There is a large gathering of students, jumping and cheering with some other kids on their shoulders. The people on shoulders do not fit in with the rest of them. They are wearing different colors and styles than the smooth pressed blue centered outfits of the erudite.

I realise that they are the faction transfers to erudite. I feel a lump in my throat, but I am not able to stop myself from scanning the faces, looking for caleb. There are only about 20 transfers, and it does not take long to find him. He seems to be preoccupied with finding his balance on the shoulders of the boy he is sitting on, and hope begins to swell within me. Hope that he is an outcast too, hope that I am not alone. Hope that I am not the only one having such a hard time with this. But as I watch, he breaks into a large carefree grin. I am suddenly unspeakably furious, and I whirl and begin to run back to the forest. Just when I thought that everything would be ok, I would be ok, this had to happen and ruin it all.

The walk takes less time this time around because I am spending less time crouched in the shadows listening for sounds of life. What would the point be when I can only hear the pounding of angry blood within my ears? I burst into the forest with a chorus of flustered chirps from the small flock of wrens I disturbed.

I jog in a frustrated circle a few times, trying to find an outlet for my manic energy. During my seventh rotation, I turn towards a nearby sycamore tree, rear up, and violently gouge my claws down through the rough bark, cutting my foreleg in the process. I swipe again, and again, and again, leaving deep scored all over the thick trunk. When I have tired myself, I drop back to all fours and sit back on my haunches to admire my work. Though the marks aren't as high as they would be if i were the size of an average werewolf, there is still an impressive crosshatch of hundreds of deep lacerations.

As my breathing and heart rate slows, I grow aware of a tingling on my left foreleg. Us werewolves are built to survive, and it takes a lot to slow us down, but this cut is about 5 inches long, and deep. With a deep sigh, I begin to run back towards the section of forest I have been taking shelter in. on my way, I become aware of the hollow grumbling of my stomach, but any elk in my vicinity would be able to smell me easier due to the thick dark blood that is gushing down my leg, so I settle for several quickly caught rabbits.

I continue on past the cave I slept in, and on towards the great oak I left my clothes by. I gingerly grab the stack of clothes between my jaws, and begin back towards the stream by my cave. Setting it down, I set off in pursuit of the plants that I need.

First, I grab two large beech leaves to carry the other herbs in, before searching for a bellyache bush. After taking a few decisive sniffs, I follow the mulchish scent trail to the base of a squat bush with large leaves and thin stems. I carefully pluck a few purple, tri pointed leaves, slicing the tough stringy stems with my teeth while being careful not to ingest any of the deadly fluid. After wrapping it succurly in one of the beech leaves, I head to one of the large meadowy areas. Sure enough, after just a little bit of scrounging around in the grass, I find goldenrod. I pluck a little, wrap in in a separate beech leaf, and carry my finds back to the riverside.

When I back to human form, the first thing I do is dip my arm into the river. It is still gushing blood, and I do not want to leave unexplainable stains on the only clothes I have. After getting dressed in the large grey toned jeans, grey turtleneck sweater, and thick slate grey shawl, I push up my sleeve and get to work.

First I find a large stone with a hollow in the top to act as a bowl. Next, I find a good rock plate and a cylindrical stone to act as a mortar and pestle. Carefully unwrapping the bellyache leaves, I begin to grind then down to a chunky paste. When that is done, I pour the ground leaves and about a quart of river water into my stone basin. While that mixture steeps, I rinse off my arm again.

I walk into the forest and find an old hollow log, and, as I suspected, it is full of spiders webs, so thick with them that it looks like cotton. I reach my arm in and grasp blindly until I have a large swath to work with. I quickly transfer it to my right hand to avoid soaking it with the large spurt of blood flowing from my arm. Back at camp, the water in the bowl has begun to leach the color from the leaves, tinting itself a swirling light green color.

Setting down the webs on top of a clean dry rock, I wash my arm again, this time thoroughly cleaning the wound, before applying pressure above the wound. After a few minutes, the bleeding has receded to a small rivlet on my arm. Releasing my arm, I grab the bowl, and rinse the wound with the brew inside. It stings a little as I am applying it, but it immediatly staunches the bleeding in my arm.

As I wipe some of the excess fluid from my arm, I pop the goldenrod into my mouth a start making the thick blended poultice I need. Once it is thoroughly mashed, I spit the mixture into my hand and begin to pat it into my wound, sighing at the pain relief. When everything is set on my arm, I start to pull the bloody chunks of wood out from under my nails where they were lodged, and rub them with the remaining goldenrod mixture. Finally, I grab the bunch of spiders webs I grabbed earlier and one by one plaster then onto my medicine filled wound.

I look up to see the midday sun still relatively high in the sky, but yesterday was a big day and I am still recovering for it, so I decide to retire early after another meal. While I was bandaging my arm a light flash caught my eye, and an investigative glance a few feet down from me reveals a lush patch of wapato creeping up from the riverbank. As I borrow my hands into the gritty mud of the river to unearth the starchy tubers beneath, I admire the delicate white, three leaved flower, a dark stain at the base of each petal like a drop of dried blood. While i am scrubbing the dirt from the surface of the roots, I watch the swimming patterns of the fat, slow moving fish in the water. My hand darts out and snags a large one. It's scales glint in the sun as it wriggles frantically, until, with a press from my thumb at the base of it's skull and a popping sound, it lies still. After that, it is just a matter of preparing the fish, getting a piece of curved metal I found situated above the fire, and boiling the fish and tubers together into a hearty stew.

I fall asleep slowly thinking about all that is to happen tomorrow, and trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. Tomorrow comes the day that I have been dreading ever since I made my decision. Tomorrow I go to the school orientation.

A.N. what did you think? Let me know, give me suggestions, or give me corrections on anything I got wrong by reviewing below! Sorry that this chapter seems a little like a filler chapter, I rewrote it many times to try to fix it, but it is what it is. Thank you so much for reading!

Anonymous weirdo