Warning: It's not very good Nor is it finished. I don't really intend to finish it until I know how, which I don't (as yet).

Please be kind I am aware that it's total shit.

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I still remember my human life, and everytime a person spoke to me about the evil of wolves. "Don't go in the woods," they'd tell me. "The wolves will get you". I used to walk in fear, watching warily the sharp amber eyes warily watching me.

I wonder what they would say if they know I had become one of them. A wolf, I mean. Grey- and black- and brown-furred, they (we, I should say) are all tooth and claw and strength and lithe speed.

If only they knew what it was to be a wolf. To hear them speak, they must think of us as monsters. I wonder if they would feel the same, if given the chance to be us for a day. To trade in those weak eyes for ours, capable of seeing a bug on a log hundreds of feet away in the moonlight; deaf ears, for being able to hear a deer's heart beat several clearings away; fragile skin for hides designed to protect against tooth, claw, hoof or fang.

But as sharp as our eyes are, as sensitive as our hearing, as tough as our skin, we are still vulnerable to you. We see a flash of light off a musket barrel, smell gunpowder and metal, hear your footsteps. But even we are not swift enough to recognize the danger; know that your weapons meant death for us all. Our skins, meant to save us from the dangers of the natural world, were never designed to protect from the treachery of humanity.

For treachery it is indeed. For centuries, we hunted together. Not as master and slave, as equals. We fought against the bears, warned against what we could not fight, and protected you as best we could. We granted partnerships with our children, so that this protection would outlast our generations.

This, you turned against us. You trap our mothers and fathers, to use our skins against us. Protected by their sacrifice, you raid your den for our children. These children, you bring up to hate their ancestors. You train them to be dependent on you, breed and crossbreed, until the noble strain dies away and all that is left is a docile mockery of their once-great family. You turn your backs on us, leave us to freeze and die.

All this because we dared to steal your property; your sheep and your chickens, which would have been lost if not through our vigilance.

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[ℓiחŋie]&[вeиηy]
[27.08.07]to[∞]
I don't know where to begin; Well I've just arrived
Now I'm locked in; and caught up in your mixed up world.