Of Wolves and Winds

I slipped into The Forest today.

I don’t know what this place is, if it’s the astral or something that’s meshed into my mind or something else entirely. It was warmer there today with a touch of light as opposed to the normal, all-encompassing darkness that normally cradles me during my time there. I carried no light; I carried no lantern.

It’s hard to carry such things when you have paws instead of hands.

I felt my feet crash to the ground as I lunged into The Forest, dropping onto forepaws first with my hindpaws falling behind me, tail slashing the air as I surveyed my surroundings. And I began to run.

My time there was short and it came from nowhere, but it was good to feel a run, however brief.

I woke up this morning more wolf than human. Many of my readers know this, I believe, but I identify as a therian (or otherkin, for people who carry a different definition than I do). I am wolf and I am human, the two coalescing into one thing: Me. It’s not uncommon for me to wake up more one than the other, but today was very strongly a Wolf Day.

Perhaps it was the lush breeze coming in the window, the one I keep closing my eyes to breathe in and losing myself a bit to. The winds have always been mine to enjoy and play with, for whatever reason. They push me, they guide me, they warn of danger; they give me pleasure, they remind me of happy days; they give me love and warmth; they strip me of my preconceptions and smack me upside the head to remind me of my place.

Soon I will learn to slip into The Forest and do so mindfully. I will spend the time there that it takes to learn what it is that draws me there and why I keep falling into that wood.

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