He liked to believe that it was all some type of dream sometimes, an illusion or faux memory inside of his fucked up mind. Some of the time he was able to believe this delusion in efforts to relieve himself of the constant horror. But in the end the truth was the same - he had done it.

There would come the day when he could no longer fight these demons and cage his thoughts and that alone brought a chill to his bones. He had somehow been capable of finding good luck in the past year or so and had gone without incident during such time, but the inevitable was coming, he was sure of it. It was like a recurring sickness that plagued his very being, consuming his mind and his actions to the extent where he only recollected shards of the terror. There was certainty in the thought that he could not go forever without another occurrence - may Fenrir have mercy on the poor soul who encountered him during such a time.

His peaceful state within the forest was disrupted shortly thereafter by the familiar sound of paws treading across the leaf-ridden earth. So his solitude would not be allowed for a moment longer, he supposed. He groaned inwardly at the thought of having to look at, much less speak, to another of his kind. He would much rather stare at the sun and be deaf in both ears than to do such a thing. His confinement of the disease that wracked his brain was solely from his willingness to become a complete hermit from lupine society - so he believed. And while this very well may be true, he could never be entirely certain of such a thing. The trigger was not yet exposed.

"Do not trouble me with your petty games." His voice was gruff as he stared out into the forest, his eyes directed at the soft sound of movement beyond his vision.