I had been given no warning.
The pain.
The agony.
It feels as if I am being ripped apart.
Leaving a pack is not words that you say.
It is destroying a bond that one had since birth. One is born into a pack, and without it, one no longer has a crucial part of their existence.
It is as if my lungs have been ripped out.
As if my heart no longer beats.
As if I can no longer function.
Right or wrong, I feel as if I have been robbed of my family.
Robbed of my pack.
Robbed of the comfort, security, and familiarity that I had once taken for granted.
It is a pain that one can never truly understand until experienced for themselves.
Somehow, in the span of mere minutes after the last former pack mate has vanished from my senses—I can no longer see, smell, or hear them—the pack bond has dissolved entirely.
And in that same span of mere minutes, the world around me has become strange and foreign, an unfamiliar place where nothing feels right or normal.
No longer do I hear the comforting sound of howls or feel the warmth of fur brushing against me in greeting.
No longer do I see the smiles shared amongst us or feel the security of being surrounded by those who know me better than I know myself.
Somehow, I know this is ridiculous. Not that long ago, my own pack mates had been ready to turn against me because they perceived me to be an enemy of our alpha, and yet, I am lost without them.
Now, I am without direction, without hope, without a purpose to strive toward, and I wander endlessly through this new land.
My feet carry me on paths that lead nowhere as I try to search for something, anything, to fill the void inside my chest where my pack used to be.
But no. This is not a moment of agony and defeat.
This is a moment of triumph.
My head spinning, I take a step forward. Then another. Before I know it, I am running, sprinting away from the pack that had been my home for so long and towards something new, something better.
As I make my way back to my manor, I can’t help but reflect on how much has changed in such a short amount of time. For all of my life, I had been devoted to the Fierce Growlers, but now, I am alone, without them.
And I will be better off for it.
Even so, there is an emptiness inside me that is palpable as memories of our adventures together flash through my mind—hunting together in the woods, gathering around fires at night to sing and laugh, caring for one another. Now, it all feels like nothing more than a distant dream.
The journey home feels like an eternity, but as I step through the gates and see my manor, all traces of fear melt away even as the agony of the crushing lack of a pack threatens to crush me all over again. As much as I endeavor to cling to the fresh hope for a new beginning, unburdened by expectations and free from having to fight for what I deem to be right and just, all I feel is loss.
And that loss is highlighted all the more as I enter my manor and realize that Flora is not here.
She did not wait for me after all.
She has made her choice for the future, and her future will not include me.
I have been a fool, and now, all of my hopes are dashed.
I will die, alone, as my father had. What point is there in finding another pack to join when I found my love, my mate, and she has rejected me?