I ran across the snow, weaving in-between the trees.

I flew along the ground, following the scent of his crimson blood

I was a wisp, the woods in motion

I ran for him, the only thought in my mind

Through the blood, the feast, the famine

I remembered him

I ran for him, without knowing who he was

He had no face, no voice, no skin

He was just memories in the wrong mind

An anchor, mooring me to another's life

I ran forever, with the pack

Hunting, drinking, sleeping

That was my life

But then, the warmth began to seep in

I walked to the place I remembered

I padded up to the gate of a house

I walked up to the boy

I stepped up to him and wrapped my arms around him.