myself into staying still and swallowing hard with multiple gulps. Closing my eyes as the taste turns bitter, spreading down my throat and into my stomach and immediately warms

and swaying softly, like t

ld sit the whole ceremony slumped down and immobile until they turned. Seemingly oblivious to all of the ceremony and its stages as light faded to dark. They

longer feel like I am really here or even conscious. Time passes but I have no clue how fast or slow, and all I know is it gets dark so quickly around me and I can’t seem to stop myself drifting into space or losing track and fading

othing to cool my eternal warmth. Lulling into a weird state of semi sleep and can no l

ncing form in front of me. Rattling, blowing smoke, chanting a song as it runs down the bridge of my nose and I pull from memory that the new turns

. I’m too wasted to have any sort of idea about what my body is doing, and the heavy, loud tones, of the wolf song echoes across the mountain as the packs sing to welco

n to be blessed by the full moon and logically a part of my brain is telling me this is what is happening. It’s almost like I’m

from the Conran pack who tried to kiss me a year ago. He cornered me in the school corridor, pushed me against the wall and tried to force me to kiss him while shoving his hand up my dress. I fought

aves me alone to my fate as I try to fight to come back to a sense of now. Suddenly afraid that after this is done, he will be the one to tend to me like this. Responsible for ushering m

pasm instinctively into an arched position on the floor. Every inch of my skin bubbling and blistering to searing levels of torture as though I have been set al

ke I’m swallowing splinters and cries become growls, my throat almost bursting into flames with the effort. For a second, it’s like I’m being strangled. I’m under

burn as I graze across them. I whimper and moan, but it alleviates nothing of the torture of my body crunching, shredding, itself apart. I cry out, beg for my mother to save

hile slow roasted over an open bed of hot coals. I can’t breathe, I can’t scream a

way to howls as the moon reaches its peak and they encourage us to make the final transition to become like them. Combining to howl, under strict orders that none othe

nt t

m wet, a hot pouring out as blood drains from the hellish self-inflicted wounds that seem to last forever, covering me in sticky warm heat, smothering me and leaving a vile metallic scent all around. I can’t tell what’s sweat, what is blood, what is maybe other kinds of flu

everythin

sunburn and instant soothing hits hard and intensely as my nois

uddenly. The unnatural silence. Hazy and blurry as my head spins and I grasp for some sense of real. Catching my b

ay. I can’t stand or push myself up as I would because it all feels strange and I blink and shake my head to clear my eyes enough to see which way up I’m facing. Confused, yet there is a calm taking ov