I didn't like how it had ended up. Yet again I'd almost killed. I pulled myself away from the the creature I had tracked down, remembering who I was. I was a human. I was a provider for my family.

I stepped back from the deer, shaking my head to get the bloodlust out of my mind. No way was I going to kill. Not like this. I wasn't even hungry. I wasn't going to kill because I could, I would kill when I had to. It jumped up and ran as fast as it's legs could take it, not that I blamed the poor creature.

I looked up at the moon, shaped like the farm cat's smile, and growled at it. That was the reason I was like this and not at home in my bed. I looked at the woodland I had found myself in.

Great. Now I'd have to track myself home again. I snorted in disgust at myself and headed home. The wind howled and I resisted the urge to howl back at it. I had enough. This was dangerous. My life was on the line every night this happened.

And the more often it happened the larger the chance I would be seen and killed. Or worse. Seen and captured.

I paused at the border to my home. Now what?

My brother and cousin were sleeping near the door and if they saw me like this—No, the barn was the safest spot. I crept along the border of the trees, keeping my senses alert for any sign that anyone was up.

But when no one showed I raced across the gap between the barn and the trees to leap over the half-open back door. I frightened Bess our cow, who mooed in fright. I backpedaled away from her huge hooves and out of her pen.

I sneezed at her in displeasure. She'd wake up the house with that noise. I looked around and saw the ladder leading to the hayloft. Perfect. I managed to somehow hook my paws on each rung and pull myself up. It was so much harder as a wolf.

I reached the top and flomped on top of the hay, exhausted. The moon shone in on me and I glared at it. I was still glaring at it when I nodded off to sleep.