"Solitude is the soil in which genius is planted, creativity grows, and legends bloom; faith in oneself is the rain that cultivates a hero to endure the storm, and bare the genius of a new world, a new forest.-"~Mike Norton, White Mountain.


Chasing The Lights~Chapter 1~
~*Jackie*~
---->A pink-magenta sun rested on the edge of the Earth, the curved surface of our globe-like planet visible to the naked eye, even the poor vision of a human, and peaked out from behind the trunks of the evergreens that made up the Great North Woods. The pale-green and dark chocolate colors of the trees clashed, though matching perfectly in contrast, and the trees' trunks had become darker overnight due to the heavy showers of rain that lingered in the atmosphere over Maine; the snow-rain mixture that poured down from the heavens dipping temperatures into the low 20's. Early winter was upon the northern United States in mid-November, bringing flurries in the early mornings and heavy snowfall closer to midnight. The cold temperatures, sometimes reaching below freezing as the sky darkened, brought sharp icicles hanging from the twigs and crushed ice on the pine needles. The humans were classified as pathetic among the animals; their defenseless limbs clothed in fur to prevent the affects of frostbite, smuggling like elephant seals as they moved closer to a popping and crackling flame that seemed to give them no fear, the food they carelessly woofed down for the selfish reasons of every day life walking on their two feet. The wolves, however, had the natural advantages of their thick, double-layered coats and warm pack members to huddle with for warmth during the harsh blizzards. When I said "wolves" I meant us. When I said "us" I meant my friends, all of us, family included. Yes, they're wolves. We all are. We are werewolves, shifters of the eastern coast.
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----->I darted through the evergreens as I followed the path of the well-worn that, as humans, we had created to lead up through the section of the North Woods that was in our territory; that would be almost all of it. The majority of the trail was ordered by tall evergreens that blocked prying eyes from catching a glimpse of us in our wolf forms, but there were a few leaning maples here and there. The trail had many names, it all depended on which branch you took and where you were going, but the trail I took would lead me to Moon Rock. There, the pack would create a chorus as we tilted out heads back, pointing our muzzled at the moon or the brightest star we could find, and sing our hearts out in howls of many tunes and meanings.
----->Moon Rock was named for the milky-white moon that smiled down at us each night we set paw on the smooth granite, and only the pack knew about it. No map had Moon Rock labeled on it, and it wasn't even a known geographical feature in Maine, but it remained the special place where our pack joined under the moonlight to sing our songs of joy and new beginnings.
----->The curved top of the granite cliff came to my field of vision before I could catch a whiff of the rapids below it. As wolves, our vision is enhanced, along with our sense of smell and hearing. So, when the cliff came to view for me, it was really about one thousand feet away. I strained to run faster, my claws digging into the damp earth as I kicked back, and my narrow chest pushing through any obstacles on the way to Moon Rock.
----->When I had reached the cliff, I gazed up at the night sky with awe reflecting in my expression.
----->The moon remained just a small crescent, its circumference outlined by a blueish hue that glowed faintly around it, that hung in the sky high enough for all to see. The indigo-blue night sky was dusted with stars, slightly-visible clouds painted with grey in various places in the sky, and the Polaris shone down on the surface of Moon Rock brightly. The leaning maples drooped over the river that flowed through the peaks in the area, creating dark shadows without an outlined shape to identify what it reflected.
----->The beauty of the night sky that cast over Moon Rock was something I'd see every night, though the pack has told me it is more beautiful in the winter time. I pulled my ears back as I tilted my head back, angling my nose so that it pointed directly at Polaris, and began to breathe the beauty of my songs into the atmosphere around the North Woods. I had my eyes closed as I howled to the great Polaris, clearly lost in the moment of it all, and I hadn't been carefully watching the pines that surrounded me. I ended my song with a short bark of excitement and then dipped my head, as if to bow, in the prescience of the brightest star. My nose suddenly became aware of that around me, as did my ears when I moved them forth, and I quickly looked over my shoulder.
----->A darkish-brown, almost pitch black in color, wolf stood behind me with his gaze fixed on my coat. I inhaled the scents that the wind brought to my nostrils, and my eyes widened half with fear and half with amazement. The scent came to me with a warning message, one that told me this wolf was not a member of our pack and that he had intruded into our territory. It was clear to me that this wolf came from the southeastern part of Maine, possibly the farthest part of the North Woods from our pack's territory borders.
----->The brute in front of me sniffed the air, his pinkish-brown nose twitching with interest, and he seemed to recognize my scent just as I had his. I watched him with narrowed eyes as he stepped forth. He hugged the ground as his body crept towards me, tail tucked tightly between his legs, and he smiled up at me with a submissive grin. His act of submission told me that the brute saw me as the dominant wolf, possibly the alpha, and I had the urge to laugh out loud.