I had lost my pack. 

Things weren't so bad in the beginning, but I just couldn't stay anymore. I had to run. I didn't even want to think about how bad things had become.

It made me feel like a failure, not just for running away, but also for allowing things to get as bad as they had become. That's probably why I didn't like thinking about it. Self-blame did me no good.

I chose a random direction. And began to walk.

Days and nights passed, and I had no idea where I was going. Eventually I had made it back to one of our old haunts, a place where the pack no longer hunted, but was still filled with memories of a much better childhood.

I would make a new home here.

It could've been anywhere I suppose, but at least I was familiar with the valleys and lakes here. Here I would start over. And if I were lucky, find a new pack and a new family.

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