The sounds of the cave, the howls that filled the air, the rustling of bodies, even the drumming of music were muffled through Juliet's heap of furs hiding her face from the waking world. She laid in bed too big for her slender body, curled into a ball; she dreaded waking up alone. The attack was still fresh in her mind, one of the first experiences of 'pack life' that Michael had boasted about... the allure, the unabashed lust, the pure freedom that had taunted Juliet seemed to elude her once more.<br/><br/>But now she was alone.<br/><br/>She had to face the day alone, and she felt exposed, weak... she no longer had her guardian angel to look after her. The worst of it was she had no idea how to 'belong' to a pack. She had been a werewolf for nearing five years, but it was always just her and Michael... She curled into a tighter ball as pangs in her chest caused tears to well up behind her green eyes. The wolf wanted to join the pack in the sun, so warm it's fur and be as a wolf... but Juliet mourned. She wanted to be alone, so go back to the way things were... just Michael, Juliet and the old, beat up Buick they bought off craigslist.<br/><br/>He had always called it 'her chariot.' Juliet smiled weakly under the covers...<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"What is that thing!?"<br/><br/>"It's our new car!"<br/><br/>"... You and I obviously have very different definitions of 'new'... and 'car.'"<br/><br/>"C'mon, Jules, your chariot awaits... m'lady." </span><br/><br/>Juliet could almost laugh at the memories, the silly moments she had simply sighed and shaken her head, bemoaning his childish sense of humor; the moments she had taken for granted. She felt a heavy weight on her chest, she felt guilty about laughing, smiling... and she hated herself for it. She felt the same sadness weigh on her, and the only thought in her head was an echoing taunt 'is this to be my eternity?'<br/><br/>Juliet wasn't sure what the lifespan of werewolves was... neither was Michael. Come to think of it, he didn't really know much about lycanthropy, considering he was turned when he was still in his teens. Yet another question that danced in the wolf's mind, begging to ask, only to be shushed by Juliet's grief: yet another source of guilt. She had never felt so out of touch with her wolfen nature, it was just another reminder of all she had lost. Another remnant of the love she had lost... she cursed silently, cursed the world, cursed her wolf-blood, cursed Michael for leaving her alone.<br/><br/><br/><br/>She sat up slowly, her long hair in a tight braid, her deep, emerald eyes scanned the surroundings. She could feel the cool breeze sneaking it's way into the cave, and hear the waves of the stream nearby. She closed her eyes and stood, taking in the sounds of nature that surrounded her. She stretched, wearing a sports bra and black leggings, her body lithe from years of dancing, her skin flawless from the lycanthropy. She sighed and opened her eyes, letting her near-black hair down, running her fingers through it, unbraided, reaching her hips in loose waves shimmering garnet red. She stepped out of the cave and into the sparse sunlight. Her golden skin glimmered, though it looked elegant, like she was glowing, it was merely sweat from sleeping huddled under so many furs. Her scent was an odd marriage of Michael's bitter-sweet scent and her own sickly sweet odor, with a hint of her flowery perfume.<br/><br/>She glanced at everyone gathered around the mouth of the cave, watching Thomas run off, she was not the best to follow, so she left it up to someone more capable. Instead, she made her way to the stream, the cool water had a scent it's own... though hard to explain. She knelt, and dipped her cupped hands in, she soaked her face in the cold water for moments at a time, it woke her up, and seemed to wash away the dreams and nightmares she had suffered through.She sighed deeply, washing her hands and arms in the water, dabbing some around her neck to cool her off. She could already feel the heat sneaking up on her.<br/><br/>Juliet rejoined the mass at the cave mouth, the fire was welcoming, though the smell of wet dog made it hard to enjoy the scent of the fire, and cooking meats. She sat at the fire, staring at the flickering flames; words had become long-lost friends in the week since the attack... While she was no longer the sobbing mess she once was, she was still distant, a ghost haunting the grounds she had once called home. Just one more victim, a casualty of a deadly attack. She sighed; how would Michael react if he saw her like this? What would he say... would he even recognize her?