superwaffle350

I know the change is coming.  I run, blindly, into the forests I had always feared as a child. Panting, in a cold sweat, I run. Branches scratch my face and hands.  Rocks cut at my feet. The change hits me, like a battering ram. No! I don't want it! I won't have it! I will not become a pricôlici! I begin to pray, I have to stop it! Maria Luada, a Aéva mult Bunea…Hail Mary, Full of Grace… Deep within me, the wolf stirs. I feel it struggle to be free of its human cage. I try to keep praying, but the words won't come. It's too strong; I can't fight it any longer! The wolf breaks free. It comes in a rush, like adrenaline. Fear