| Nietzsche
He walked through the forest, bright eyes glancing this way and that as he continued. The boy had traveled for quite some time, but it seemed that he had finally found the place he was looking for. Well, in a sense. You see, he was simply looking for a place where he could find his purpose- find the purpose that would give his life meaning. And Nietzsche could tell that this place had a certain energy, along with the scent of many wolves- somewhere special. And he had to admit that he was curious. What caused so many wolves to congregate here? This was not a pack; he could tell as much from the lack of scent markers, and yet, scents crisscrossed this way and that.
Nietzsche had simply let his paws carry him where they may- far, far from the modest home where had once lived with his family a few others. And it seemed that he had ended up in a place that was far more interesting than where he had come from. The boy did not regret leaving his family behind; he had always struggled to make connections with them. They were far too optimistic, and they encouraged him always to be something that he was not. He was a thinker, not a fighter, nor a hunter. Nietzsche didn't want to hunt and protect with his teeth and claws, no, he wanted empowerment in different ways.
He was young, but he was smart, though perhaps not in a conventional way. He had no reason to think the way that he did, and yet his thoughts had evolved, mutated into something that was wholly unlike his family or anyone else he had ever been around. Nietzsche was hardly concerned with the fact that he might be construed as strange or odd, he had always been told that, regardless. Insults or even gentle chastisement hardly affected him, and they never had. The boy had never wanted to hurt his family, but he had never wanted to make them happy either- no, he was completely neutral. In fact, he had never come across another soul that he truly enjoyed the company of. It was a sad, strange existence. A meaningless one.
Nietzsche continued to walk, intrigued by the multitude of scents that seemed to swarm in the air, growing even more frequent in density as he walked further into the territory. Just what kind of place had he come across? Whatever or wherever it was, he felt an excitement growing inside of him. Here, perhaps, he could find a purpose, find a drive. Something to give his life meaning, or, at the very least, something to keep him sane.
Egoism Is The Very Essence Of A Noble Soul
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