I grabbed my camera from the bedstand and left my room, my backpack was by the front door, ready for me to leave at any moment. I was almost finished; I just had one final thing left. I opened the backdoor to the garden and was hit with the scents of the flowers; my grandmother used to take care of them, but now, with her dead and me leaving, I was pretty sure they would die soon. It was a pity; I always loved the scenery here.

My feet crunched against the twigs and leaves of the forest floor as I made my way up the hill behind the cabin. There was a cold chill in the air, causing my breath to fog with each exhale. Anyone else would have shivered from the frigid winds blowing; thankfully for me, my werewolf heritage kept me warm and let me enjoy the cold air as it caressed my warm body.

I reached the top of the hill behind the cabin at last, and there, dug into the top four tombs. my grandparents and parents, I was the last of my family that used to live in this quaint little cabin in the middle of this forest.

I sat and stayed quiet for a moment, letting my memories of them wash over me. My parents, died before I was even five, werewolf hunters I was told; which was bull, my mother was a normal human who left everything she knew to live with my father.

My grandpa, a proud wolf who refused to eat anything he didn't hunt, always came back with new prey. I chuckled as I remembered the eve of my sixteenth birthday; he took me to hunt a moose with him. It ended with him breaking a leg and me chomping down on moose meat for the first time, and I'll never forget the proud look on his face when I crushed its spine in-between my jaws. One day he went out to hunt and never came back. When I went out to search for him, I found him in the hands of some hunters, dead. I nearly lashed out right then had I not seen the kids. In the end we could only buy off the body from them, so we at least had something to bury.

And finally, my grandmother, the last to die. She was a sweet old lady that would knit at every opportunity, even though none of us needed the extra clothing. If had to choose words to describe her, I would choose elegant and dainty. Even on full moons, she would lie beside the fire, calmly reading a book or taking a light nap while my grandpa and i roamed and played out in the fields. For the last few years after my grandpa died, she lost most of her smile and mainly knit to distract herself; she was at least able to give me a genuine last smile on her deathbed at least.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Done reminiscing on the lives of the fallen, I got up and looked to the horizon; the sun was just peeking out from the canopy of trees, dispersing the early morning mist. I had a bus to catch, and I would be cutting it close. It was about three hours of running from here to the bus stop with rest. I entered the cabin and ensured that everything was packed, from my spare clothes to shoes and, most importantly, my camera, something my mother brought with her and cherished.

I hefted my backpack and started walking to the bus stop, but before giving the cabin one last look. A hefty two-story cabin made entirely of wood, something my great-great- grandparents made apparently; you could see the four generations of family it raised with all the nicks and cracks, each one having a story. I felt a pang of sadness settle into my chest, like a murky ball of water. I lived in this place for my entire life, and with only the occasional visits to the nearby town, it was hard to just suddenly leave. . . . I shook my head and reminded myself I would return trying to calm myself but it did nothing to the murky ball of water; instincts of my wolf nature, refusing to leave the territory it's known for so long.

I huffed in annoyance and looked ahead; maybe a run will help. I took a deep breath and pushed my feet into the dirt before breaking out into a sprint.

Cold air rushed into my lungs before coming out as hot air; my feet pounded against the dirt floor and tree roots, my heart pounding like drums soon enough the sweet euphoria of running hit me; like lighting mixed with fire entered my blood and my heart went from sounding like the banging of drums to an engine speeding me up, my eyes widened in response to the adrenaline as I ran faster and faster.

Finally, my speeding gait slowed down till I stopped next to the bus stop, my mind was dizzy from the three-hour run and my body was shaking like a leaf. muscles ached in pain and bones creaked but I felt good, really good, the cold win doing wonders to my hot and sweat-soaked body.

I wiped the sweat off my head and went to sit down to wait. I leaned my head back and looked to the blue sky while panting for breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly till it slowed and my heart rate went down to appropriate human levels.