Running in the Park.

A noise wakes me. In the grey half light I cannot tell if it is twilight or dawn. I stretch and yawn, both with such luxury at the movement of muscle, I realise I must have been deeply asleep for a long time. I still smell of heavy sleep as I first step out into the street to start my run. I cover the first mile at a pace but settle into a slower rhythm for the second. As I reach the locked park gates, I jump to flip over them landing in a crouch and take off again , faster this time. There is a line of benches , four in a row that I like to vault as I pass  them. After a circuit of the duck pond, there is a six foot wall separating the edge of the park proper from the children’s play area. If I time it correctly I can hit it half way with one foot and using both hands, pull and vault the rest of the wall. The final mile back to my house has a few interesting bumps and corners to bounce off but it is mostly uphill.

Once home, I drop my clothes into the hamper and stand under the shower for at least ten minutes. Once dry I turn on the radio. I have no clocks in my house, so the morning news tells me that it is 8am. A long time ago, I would have run with my brothers but now there is just me and Joachim. We have not spoken in three years. We are very similar in appearance, except that I have the family tradition of hetrochromia. I have one blue and one brown eye. Our last summer in Budapest, when I told him I was to forgo the hunt broke his heart and he has never  forgiven me. I told him that I could no longer hunt even criminals with a clear concision, he called me a ‘base traitor’ and ‘no better than a werewolf’. His word hurt at the time and I was in a great fury and struck him. To our Kind, to be called ‘werewolf’ is a great insult. I moved to London, a remote part with many parks and wooded areas and though sometimes the Hunger does come upon me, I refuse to acknowledge it . It is not easy. Being a Wolven among Humans. It is a nature to hunt down and kill, those we sense have done wrong. The thrill of the chase is not an easy thing to ignore. To survive is to adapt. Though it is a lonely life, it is my life, lived by rules. Better to live and alone and free than be domesticated.

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