Personal Narrative-Memoir Of A Girl

The girl, no longer an outsider but an accepted member of the pack, was no longer a girl to any casual observer. She had mastered the skills required, hunting, howling, her own peculiar place in their society. She could run as fast as any of them, dashing through the forest on all fours. A force to be reckoned with, fearless, brutal, loyal and yes, still awkward. While the pack had accepted her, her place was still up in the air. It had increased over the years, as she proved her skill on the field and as a nurturer to the pups as they were born and raised. She ate before the Omega, but never with the pack, choosing instead to drag her meal off to one side, often with the pups and mother. On this day, it was stormy outside and the pack huddled

Grasping it in her hand, she yipped a short goodbye and trotted off into the rain. The book hampered her movements, and so she put it in her mouth and began to run. Lighting flashed and she ran faster, covering miles as her thoughts swirled in her head. Storms always did this to her, flashing memories of a time long past. Irretrievable. Finally, she came to rest under a great oak and sprawled out beneath it. She dropped the book, pushing the pages open to a charcoal drawing. A flash lit up the sky and with it, an image of a brother lost, drawing the very image before her. And that was all. A low, mourning howl echoed in the storm, paused and started again, lingering in the rain. Another howl answered hers, the sound of the mother, offering a measure of comfort that she was not alone. An old song hummed through her lips, as it often did in times she desired comfort, its origin lost but meaning unforgettable. The girl wept, aware that her pack did not weep as she did. She had learned over the years to not cry, as this confused her family. But sometimes, times like this and when the Alpha died, she could not help

Movement, and voices. They weren’t being quiet either. She laid low and watched the creatures enter the field. The three of them stood there, yelling and pointing in various directions. Her hair bristled and she felt it stand on end. They were death. Instinct kicked in and she sprinted towards them. One of them lifted something and pointed a stick at her, but a hand from another stopped him as the girl leapt and knocked over the third. The man covered his face and neck, but she managed to get a good hold on his arm and he yelled in pain. Surprised, angry voices behind her caused her to stop and leap away, growling and bristling in challenge. Loud shouts were exchanged between the three, and the one with the stick dragged off the injured man. A woman, only her voice and face noticeable, remained and knelt on the ground. The girl growled, watching her and barked loudly. The woman spoke softly, lifted her hands and pushed the hood off her head, revealing a delicate face and slender, pointed ears. Her voice continued, never ceasing, her demeanor gentle and coaxing. The girl tensed as she moved, watching her carefully, keeping a keen eye on her surroundings. Moving slowly, the woman removed her outer layer, revealing a thin frame. An equally thin, graceful hand reached out towards the girl. She growled as it approached, bristling in response. But as it hung there in the air, unmoving, she cautiously sniffed at it. This was not the