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the front door and hid my knife in a pocket. I walked bloody
footsteps in my wake. I think I was almost in a daze. My mind taking a
temporary break from reality. I opened the door to a terrified looking
man...I'm sure the bloodstains were worrisome.
    "He's
been attacked. Please call the police."
    He
looked past me and gasped at the scene, running into the house. I looked at the
street in front of me, one I had not seen for nearly four years.
    It
was the same yet not. Same houses, different cars. Same Street, different
people. I took my first step off the front porch and my mouth over ran with
laughter. It bubbled up through my chest and escaped unwillingly in momentary
madness. The grass felt new and enticing on my feet. I looked towards the
forest, the start of the trees to my right. This is where I'll go. There's a
stream running through and it'll be no colder than that room.
    I
closed my eyes and smiled up at the sky. "Thank you Clara." I looked down
at the bloodstained green covering me and sighed, "I'm sorry about the
jumper."

Chapter 7.
    I'd
managed maybe three miles that first day before my legs collapsed. I wasn't
overly worried about being found, he would take a while to heal, I'd given myself
some time.
    The
Autumn leaves, crisp and dying beneath my feet, were cushioning to my bare
skin. Small animals scampered around me, in the wandering light of dusk I
wasn't overly concerned about the predators. The old mining town of Black-wood
was northerly to me, a town high on promise and low on delivery. When the mines
had shut the old coaler’s had remained but anyone south of forty had left so
fast that thick, black dust had yet time to settle. With the redundancy of life
came a lower sustainability in the environment. The larger predators moved on,
following their smaller food source. Natural wolves suffered extinction on this
land many years ago, humans with their guns and repressed ideals lost a species
on par with the Arctic wolf.
    I
made my bed beneath a large English Elm, the branches still thick enough to
provide some cover, it's fallen leaves a tribute to Summer lost. Sleep came
quickly; I'd obviously overdone it, my tired muscles sore and aching but I
welcomed the feeling – tomorrow would bring thicker sinew, broken down and
rebuilt better. I suppose the same could be said for me.
    The
following day I woke with a peace I'd not felt for too long. Once the tightness
in my body stretched and burned I resumed my trek North. I hadn't planned on
specifically Black-wood, but it seemed as good a place to begin again as any.
By the afternoon I was stumbling my way through woodland, I'd pushed too far
again. Still I kept going. I had a plan, a need, a craving deep inside. I saw a
light at the end of a bloody tunnel.
    When
dusk fell once more I was a swaying drunk. My eyes glazed and my sight misted.
I fell to my knees, the lack of food and water adding to my weakness. I gave up
on standing and proceeded to crawl. I liked crawling, it served to move me forward
when my legs could no longer hold me up. I didn't notice at first, so caught up
in moving forward that my most valuable sense was overridden by will.
    The
quiet shook me first. That lack of sound that creeps under your skin and raises
the hair on the back of your neck. I couldn't see well enough in front, I
reversed to have the nearest tree at my back and sat, waiting for what was to
come.
    I
heard rustling, the movement of bodies too large to be wildlife through the
broken branches. A snuffling through the leaves as if my scent was calling
them. A whistle on the wind and a rough bark in answer. I saw the shapes moving
in shadow, large and clumsy yet fluid in motion. A low growl proceeded the
snapping of twigs as they came into view. Approaching slowly, stalking and
rounding me up like sheep.
    Another
whistle and they sat before me in tandem. Muscles bulging and jaws hanging.
    They
were a beautiful example of their breed. Proportioned perfectly, one black,