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Could you feel nostalgic over something you hadn't even left behind yet? That you would never [i]truly [/i]part with?

Tonight, Snapjaw sure fucking thought so. With the buzz of the Sept far behind him, he closed his eyes, turned skyward, and breathed in.

The wind, wild and free like the mountains and forests it blew through, the vast open sky above, the scents, the sounds... wherever he ventured here, he could feel Gaia's presence, Her heart beating in tandem with his own. While the training at the Sept had been grueling, it had also allowed him to return to the wilderness, if only for a few months. What a welcome break it had been from his mission in the city.

After the Rite, that's where he would once more spend his foreseeable future. Watching. Learning. Adapting to homid ways, because the best way to fight an enemy you did not understand, was to blend in until you did. What he was doing was important work, something the rest of his pack of wolves could've never fathomed they'd be able to do. But for it, he'd need to leave all this behind once more. Far from nature and removed from Gaia, his heart would need to beat alone.

And truth be told? He was fucking pissed about it.

The lupine-born wanted to sink his fangs into something, to feel [i]anything[/i], bark or bone, giving in under the pressure of his jaws. To splinter. Snap. [i]Break[/i]. But in his current form, all he would manage to break were his teeth — or worse, his jaw.

That's how weak homids were. That's how weak he [i]felt[/i], wearing the skin of one now, practice for what was to come soon. He should just change back. He had time to get used to this skin again after — for tonight, to pass the trials that be and finally be recognized as something more than a rowdy cub, he had to be in peak condition.

And then he could bite something, too.

A few moments later, a large, brownish wolf emerged from the woods and arrived back at the Sept, guided there by the smell of smoke, food, home, and — unless they all screwed up tonight — his pack.
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