Eat, prey, live – for the Giraffe Call

For KC_OBrien‘s prompt.

after “On Top,” (Dreamwidth link)) from the gender-funky-giraffe call.

Commenters: 3

I couldn’t deal anymore.

I’d set myself up a perfect situation, or so it had seemed, but here I was, in my happy little pack with my happy little alpha who did what I said… and I hated it.

I hated his passive-aggressive bullshit. I hated being everyone’s mommy. I hated hearing everyone’s. Fucking. Complaints. Because, well, everyone knew the alpha’s bitch was who you went to when you had a problem. Everyone knew I’d listen to their problems without ripping out their throats for it, listen and be compassionate and pat their shoulders and tell them it would be okay.

And I was beyond sick of it.

It took a night sleeping on the floor, because Chris was sick and tossed and turned, followed by the world’s whiniest werewolf having a bad day all over my tiredness, for me to snap. I threw the cur out of my room – and I do mean threw – threw some clothes in a bag, and left. Just left. Out the door and gone.

I shifted to wolf form as soon as I made it out of the city, the backpack one of the doggie sorts modified for this, and ran. Ran and ran and ran.

I chased some hikers down into a ravine and terrified them for a little bit, ate rabbits and deer and, once, a raccoon that sassed me. Never humans, but it was fun to make them run. Fun to listen to them stop whining and focus on just living for a little bit. Even a wolf in a backpack is still a wolf, and I was a damn big werewolf.

I came across the human version of my whiney cur in a truck stop in Nevada. He was trying to tell me his problems. I guess I have that face.

“Sorry, I don’t care,” I told him. It was the most liberating moment of my life. Better than my first Change. Better than making Chris win the alpha challenge. Better than my first kill. The look on his face – sweeter than blood.

“You…” he sputtered.

“You might ask, the next time,” I suggested. “The last guy that whined at me without asking is still trying to find all his teeth. And I’m sure your wife-” there was a ring “-doesn’t like it either.”


“Just. Don’t. Care.” I grinned at him, and I’d been spending a lot of time in wolf form. My teeth were still pretty damn sharp on two legs. “Not sorry, either.”

“I…” He ran away… and I stopped running away from myself. I’d never felt better.

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13 thoughts on “Eat, prey, live – for the Giraffe Call

  1. Hee.. yeah I had that kind of ‘tell me your problems’ vibe for a long while… so long that I decided to become a therapist [hey, might as well get paid for it, right?] Then like your werewolf, I snapped… and embraced the power of ‘leave me the fuck alone!’

    • *cough* I’ll let you know when I snap. (I contemplated therapy, then decided that that would work really badly with my personality. Um. Contemplated BEING a therapist. DID therapy.)

      • Hehe.. did both myself…at the same time. [there’s a lot of therapists that get into it as a means of self-exploration, and a bigger number who really ought to.] Thing is, the more I got my own head on straight, the more I realised that actually it was ok to not like people and wish they’d stop making unreasonable demands on me and my time. Basically, I came to the realisation that I’m an introvert, have always been so and likely always will… I just role-play being an extrovert in social situations because that’s what I was taught was ‘normal’ behaviour. So I acted ‘normal’ in public. There’s a very liberating power in saying “f**k that shit!”.

        • Hee, that sounds a lot like me. Well, I like people. But in very small doses. Increasingly small. I haven’t really figured out how to say “f that shit” to people yet.

  2. Ah, she realized she doesn’t really want a pack. That’s an important thing to know. I recall wondering about her, but the thought got pushed out of my head by something, possibly the dragons.

  3. I love this. Going sorta from ‘King Maker” so to speak in her establishment in the first story to someone who is fiercely… I don’t want to say independent, but she has what she believes in, and knows that she deserves more than what she’s getting. I’m also happy that she’s so on top of the fact that she isn’t just jumping into bed (figuratively or literally) with a philanderer who’s just going to do the same thing to her in the short term that the leaches did in the long term. I can’t wait for her to find her center. Her center, a place that she can be and a group of people that she can take care of and that will also take care of her needs.

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