<i>Tell me Michael, what do you remember?</i><br/><br/>"This one remembers nothing of this world, save for the faceless one who mocks this one." Michael started, his hands flexing as he tried to recall for the hundreth time, "Only clear thought is of hunts, the thirst of prey, the...<br/><br/><i>Rush?</i><br/>"Yes.... rush of excitment as this one stalked them in the dark, they fumbled and fled. But...."<br/><i>Michael, you know I've advised you not to think of those times, it's not safe for the others to think of them as prey...</i><br/>"This one never said other members of pack were prey, only recall what asked of this one. Not recall if this one hunted human-kin or more worthy prey."<br/><i>Worthy prey? Do you consider humans...er human-kin weak?</i><br/>"Perhaps... not all, this one admits, some worthy of praise as they hunt for those who can hunt them easily... human-kin that can.... what word for... to describe successful hunt?"<br/><i>umm... I'm not sure what you mean, Michael. Try to-</i>Somewhere someone began to knock gently.<br/>"Ah, achieve. That is word. Human-kin who achieve these hunts can become more than what they are. This one has seen that some human-kin come to this den to try and find worthy prey. Sometimes not for food but for chance to adapt."<br/><i>Is that why you came here? Do you remember how you were found?</i><br/>There was an awkward silence as the malformed figure that had been named Michael by the shelter sat in his room, beyond the four walls that encaged him he could hear the sounds of other members of this pack go about their lives.<br/><br/>"No, this one cannot remember, only that this one wandered lost, pain, confusion, hunt....failed. Failed to adapt, failed to seek out....memory...." He turned to the source of the questions, a man his height, his face like so many of the human-kin before him, similiar yet foreign, "Why does faceless one mock this one?" He asked almost longingly but his reflection no longer answered.<br/>Once more someone knocked, slowly at first before beginning to speed up, leading up to a near frantic hammering. Michael forced himself to wake up,not wanting to discover who or what was knocking, the nightmares drew to him an uneasy feeling. Not sadness or disappointment but one of longing. A longing to remember.<br/><br/>After getting dressed and binding his eyes to minimize the brightness of this world, Michael made his way to the mess hall. A strange ritual the human-kin performed on a daily basis, they did not always hunt but always made sure that all of it's pack was fed. Perhaps it was out of sympathy to those who could not hunt themselves?<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>