November 8
It’s extremely late in the year to be doing this, I’m aware of that, but I know if I don’t do it now I never will. There is about three inches of snow on the ground and the temperature is approximately 15 Farenheight.
I have my trusty Ka-Bar, a five and one-half inch long knife that has been my constant companion on ventures into the wilderness since high school. It’s battered but tough beyond belief; cutting open a soup can won’t even dull the blade. Wrapped around the sheath is about three years worth of shoelaces, saving them whenever I wear out a pair.
I have a pair of polypropylene long underwear, which I am wearing under a long sleeve shirt, old cammies, wool sweatshirt and my torn and stained parka. It might be little overkill for November, but I know I’ll be wishing I had more come February. In my gortex combat boots are three pairs of socks, from thin liners all the way up to my knit wool stockings. The same goes for my dog hair gloves, which I have my child hood companion Sniffy to thank for. She never could figure out why we would ever want to play around or wear something made out of her old shed fur. The gloves however are warmer than any wool.
I have this water repellant notebook I found at a military surplus place and a pen, with which I intend to record my year adventure in the northern wilderness.
I also have my past experiences and self training, along with my common sense (although some say this trip is a sign I have lost it) and faith in God. Today I stepped into the woods, not to return for at least a year, perhaps longer should I feel like it.

November 18
Things are going fairly good so far. I have a low shelter built against the side of a small rock outcropping on the southern side of a hill. It rained a couple of days after I had finished it and the inside stayed fairly dry, I’ll continue to work on it but priority has changed. I got a fire going with my boot lace, tinder and a stick next to the stone face. Hopefully it won’t melt the snow above and make it drip into my shelter. It would suck to be wet all winter. The fire was a royal bitch to light, so I’m paranoid about letting it go out and keep it constantly fed.
It’s been pretty hungry around here, living mostly off a couple of rabbits and a porcupine Iv managed to skewer with my sharpened stick. Yesterday however I managed to surprise a deer. I managed to ram my spear into it’s gut before it took off running. A poor shot but I’m proud that I actually hit it. I found it several hours later, still alive and struggling in the snow. Finishing the job was by no means pleasant, but I saved it some suffering and now I have food for a while. I have my stash on a small platform lashed in the top of a tree about two hundred yards away.

Nov. 25
Rained then froze, damn it’s cold.

Nov 30
Fucking skunks. This stuff doesn’t just stink, it burns! I hope that basterd tasts better than the crap he sprayed.

Dec 5
Running a bit low on food again, probably have a couple of days left and I’d like to keep it that way just in case I don’t have any luck.

Dec. 8
Porcupines rock! All you have to do is sit there and the’ll walk right up to you. Bash ‘em over the head with a stick to kill them. If you flip them upside down you can skin and gut them without worrying about the quills.

Dec. 10
Got another deer! It’s not very big, probably a yearling, but it’ll give me food for a while. Got some more snow today too, so any tracks I find should be fresh. The cold really isn’t that bad once you get used to it either. Your body adjusts your metabolism to keep you warm. It makes one eat a lot more, but your just chilly, not freezing.

Dec. 25
Merry Christmas. I got a doe in my stocking this year. Good size, should last a while. Perfect timing too, I was starting to get a bit hungry and without fresh snow finding fresh tracks to follow becomes a challenge.

Jan 4
Wow, what a blizzard! It was hard to keep the fire going and snow from filling in my shelter. My food stash is buried under about two feet of snow. I should probably clear some of that off so it doesn’t break my platform.

Jan 6
More porcupines and a snow shoe hare in a snare. Hah, it rymes.

Jan 10
I’m getting better, my misses are going down and hits are on the increase.

Feb 2
Finally found my journal buried under six inches of snow. Not much has been missed, just the usual hunting failures and successes.

Feb. 23
My fire lit the shelter while I was out hunting. Burnt it to the ground. I knew I should have piled the snow back on the shelter as soon as I had finished putting more branches on the roof. I’ll have to rebuild it, but for now it looks like tonight is just going to be cold.

Feb. 24
Had an unusual guest last night. I was huddled up next to the rock where my shelter used to be when I was suddenly aware of someone sleeping next to me. I rolled over to find myself with a face full of fur. I’m not sure what it is. It’s friendliness and lack of fear towards me makes me think it was someone’s pet, but it’s enormous, as big as me at least, and looks so much like a wolf I have my doubts that it’s mixed with anything. I also know, however, that your standard wolf is not people friendly. Especially out here.
I considered giving him breakfast this morning as a way of thanking him for keeping me warm last night, but I don’t know if I want to encourage him being around me or people in general... I mean, what if he tells the rest of his pack?

Mar. 4
It doesn’t seem to matter what I do, I think I’ve picked up a partner-in-crime. I woke up the next morning with the fur ball next to me again, and he’s been with me almost constantly since. Some times he’ll disappear for a few hours at a time, but by the time I get up in the morning sure enough, he’s there. He’s been showing me things too, I think he understands I can’t smell or hear very well, and that when your out here team work is definitely the way to go.
Like the other day he got me to follow him to where a small group of grouse were. While I began my stalking he disappeared. I was almost within range to cast my spear when the flock exploded from the snow. I chucked my spear wildly into the air in a vain attempt to bring down one of the fleeing birds. When the snow began to settle I saw the cause; the wolf was standing there, a limp bird in his mouth. He pranced around with it for a while, as if to say “Haha, look what I got, you didn’t get any. Neener neener neener....” All I could do was pick up my spear and carry on.

Mar 16
Last night has to be one of the most scary experiences of my life. The wolf was gone, doing whatever his doggy self does when he’s alone. I was walking through the refreezing snow back to camp, hungry from an unsuccessful hunting trip. There was a scream from somewhere above me, and the next thing I know I’m being pulled top the ground by the back of my coat. My spear was knocked from my hands, and I struggled to get my knife. Meanwhile my coat seamed to unravel with a mind of it’s own. I fell flat on my back and threw up an arm to protect my face, adrenaline flooding into my bloodstream. Moments later my arm was lay bare to the bone defending what felt like a series of knives aimed at my throat. Tucking my chin I finally got my knife free and rolled over to get up. More rips that went clean through my clothing and cut into my skin appeared on my back and side as I pushed myself up.
A shadow moved in front of me, and I lunged to stab it. My knife slid into something, and I earned another set of cuts through my chest. Punching as hard as I could with the other hand I had an inspiration. My knife was still in my attacker, instead of pulling it out and trying to find my opponent in the dark for another thrust, why didn’t I use it as a handle, pulling against the flat of the blade and get close enough to prevent him from hitting me? Looking back it was a retarded thing to do, not really giving my any advantage and definitely not bringing me too close for claws, but I did it anyway.
There was a snap of jaws inches away from my face as I pulled myself in, causing me to jerk the knife out of reflex and bring it across my face to protect it. There was a slight tug of resistance as I did, and a gurgling. Another snarl tore through the dark and slammed into us. My brain rattled as I felt my skull bounce off something very hard. I don’t remember much after that.
In fact, I don’t even remember falling asleep. I woke up this morning to the nudging of my furry friend, who looked concerned. My arm burned like hell, along with my chest, legs and back. The snow was scarlet where I had been laying. I didn’t remember getting clawed in the legs, but sure enough there were cuts there, deep into my calves. The puma was still sprawled out in the red snow. Colligated blood pooled up and ran from the left side of it’s neck. There was another knife mark low on it’s chest. I tried to stand up and the feeling of a series of red-hot coat-hangers being pressed into my calf exploded up my leg. My strength seemed to evaporate and I sat against a tree instead. I am screwed out here now. I’m injured, and didn’t even have a needle and thread to stitch myself back up again, let alone antiseptic to wash out the wounds. Well, unless dog slober counts. I know well enough that once you are hurt out in nature your expected life spancan be measured in days, if not hours.
My clothes are ruined too, the entire back of my coat and sweater are gone, along with my chest and sleeve cut to ribbons. There is a possibility I could make myself some clothes out of old deer hides, but I don’t remember how to make leather and the hides right now are as stiff as boards.
Some how I’v managed to make it back to camp, and my body is complaining loudly about it too. I was surprised when the wolf disappeared, only to come back with mouthful of slobbery meat, from the cougar I think. I accepted the gift and he ran off, making several more trips before curling up beside me. Tomorrow I’m going to have to find the road, because other wise I don’t think I’m going to make it very long. Even if all they can do it stitch me up before I come back out here, it should help immensely. I’v torn what was left of my clothes up and used them for bandages before building up the fire. I think without my sweatshirt and coat I just might be able to live, I have a large pile of fire wood still, but it’s going to be a cold few days.

Mar 19
What am I going to do? I’m crying as I write this, because I have just lost a very close and dear friend. He followed me on my trek to the road over the next few days, running ahead before coming back and running out again as I limped painfully along.
We were almost to the road, I could hear the occasional car go by and he had run ahead out of sight as usual. The I heard the roar of a car, followed by the screech of tortured rubber on pavement and a loud thump. My heart caught in my throat and I hurried through the rain and fog even though I already knew what I would find.
The car had continued on, depositing on the gravel shoulder the body of my one and only friend out here. I broke down, hugging his wet but still warm body and crying my eyes out. Why him? He was so good, caring about someone else while not really expecting (or sometimes getting) anything in return. If anything I should be the one to die. My history is filled with wrong doings, everything from the murder of countless people to stealing to my countless accounts of mental adultery. I remember laying there and giving a prayer. Chances were I wasn’t long out myself, the cuts on my legs and chest were oozing a yellowish liquid and the skin around them had turned red. I asked whatever god cared to give whatever I had of my life to the wolf who had been so good to me. I didn’t really care if I died out here anymore, but I had seen enough innocence die to want this wolf to be another.
I waited a few minutes, but nothing happened. Then an impulse swept me, an urge so great I have my doubts if it was from myself alone. Yet the sickness of it makes me wonder just what my own capacity is.
Something told me to skin the wolf. I was horrified at the thought, but yet there continued to be a drive to do so. Like the wolf wanted to give me one last gift as it died. I needed to keep warm, and he no longer needed his fur, so he wanted to give it to me. No, no he didn’t, I was just being greedy and sick. Yet why then was my hand guided on it’s own as it cut around the neck just behind the head, then again around it’s rear hackles and a small incision across it’s belly. The body had been broken in three places, the neck, the back just above the pelvis and again at the base of the tail. Through the cut in the belly I pulled out the back legs and pelvis, along with most of the entrails. My stomach churned as I did so, it was my friend after all, yet I couldn’t stop myself. The tail, to my surprise was left in and I didn’t bother taking it out. I pealed the skin back over the front. I hadn’t cut around the front paws, but to my surprise the skin slid off from around them. With a tug the pelt came over the head, and I was left standing there, shivering in the rain with a wolf hide in one hand and staring back down and the now skinless body of my friend, broken into three pieces. I dragged the corpse back into the woods, I intend to give in a proper burial once the ground thaws out, until then he lies under the melting snow.
I remember the shivering stopping as hypothermia set in. I stared at the hide, which I had miraculously taken off in one piece and grimaced at the thought of what I had to do. The deed was done though, and there was no use in wasting it. So stripping off all my regular clothes, I climbed inside the hide.

It actually fits rather well. The neck is a bit loose, but it seams as time goes on it shrinks down. If it gets much smaller I’m going to have quite a time getting back over my head, but when ever I take the hide off I’ll probably just cut it up the front. The forelegs I use as sleeves are almost the perfect length, although my elbows are held a little close to my chest and limit my movement a bit there, but I think I can work around that. I’m using the paws as gloves. My thumb is where the dew claw should be and because of his short toes my fingers are only separate about half way along their length, but I can still grip and throw my spear, so It’s all good.
The hid only goes down to the base of my calves, barely covering the open wounds there. It seems that the wolves immune system that was left in the skin has helped clear the infection a bit before the cells died. My legs feel much better, although I still limp when I walk. My boots come about an inch shy of where the hide ends, my socks covering the gap effectively. The whole hide is extremely warm, a real life saver. I have made a vow to stay out here at least until I can give my friend a decent burial. I think with the new winter coat he gave me I can make it and it’s the least I can do.

Mar. 21
My skin burns beneath the hide, as if it is on fire. I fear it might be from the skin decomposing, but I don’t dare take the hide off, as I know for sure I’ll freeze to death without it. It fits me almost perfectly too, the upper arms and paws having stretched out a bit. The neck fits perfectly too, the wet blood and flesh left on the skin forming a seal that keeps the cold air and snow from going down my back. However, I seriously doubt I’ll be able to take it off without cutting it.
I forgot when I removed the skin to take off the claws from the paws. Granted, they have come a little bit in handy, but they begin to dig into my finger tips, making them hurt like hell every time I touch something with them. That damn tail bone keeps digging into my ass as well. I’m thinking about cutting it out.
It was rather cold and uncomfortable to keep opening the slit in the stomach to take care off business, so I slid my member into the wolf’s old sheath. It seems to work pretty good and I’ll never have to worry about my fly being open this way. The other end lines up pretty well too, and it’s been too hard trying to get my back end out anyway to deal with things so I just use it as well. No problems so far.
Got more snow yesterday, about a foot and a half of it. It’s melting though, so I don’t know how long it’s going to last. I’v been the warmest and driest since coming out here thanks to my gift.

Mar. 24
Skin doesn’t burn anymore, and my fingertips seem to have healed. The claws have grown stiffer, making them easier to use, although it feels kind of funny doing so, almost like instead of pushing against my finger they're pushing in my finger. I’ll probably have ruts in my fingertips for a while after I take it off, oh well.

Apr. 2
My cuts seem to have healed up, although I can’t see any of them they don’t hurt anymore and I’m walking fine. The ground is almost thawed to the point where I can dig.

Apr. 10
Buried my faithful companion and friend, giving him one last thanks for all that he’s done. It took a while to dig a hole that big with a stick, and I wound up digging with my hands for the most part. The claws sure make it easier.
Although it still gets rather cool at night the fur makes it rather hot during the day. Soon I think I’ll be taking it off and replacing it with a pair of deerskin pants I’v been working on. Something weird I’v noticed with the hide-the slit in the belly seams to have healed together again. Normally when I walk around the two sides do fit together, and I can still see where the cut has been made, it just seems that the two edges have been glued together. I also seem to have adapted quite well to having an extra epidermis. When the wind blows I can “feel” it ruffle the fur. I’m guessing the bacteria have eaten through the under layers of skin exposing the hair ends against my own skin.

Apr. 12
Something is drastically wrong! This morning I went to sit next to the fire, and as usual I reached behind myself to adjust the tail so I would cause it to dig painfully into my rear, a habit I’v developed. Anyway, as I grabbed the base of it it twitched!
It wasn’t just a spasm of dead muscles either, because I could feel them flex along my back! Further exploration showed me that I had limited feeling about halfway down the appendage, and this scares me. What is going on? The hide doesn’t seem to slide along my own skin anymore either, although I’v always assumed that was because of the congealed blood between the layers. Well, today I grabbed a tuft and gave a tug. It hurt! I’m beginning to wonder if I’v started to go crazy or if the hide has started to grow on me in more ways than one.

Apr. 13
I’m beginning to panic a bit here. Today I decided to take off the fur, as it’s warm enough I don’t think really need it anymore. I began by trying to slip the claws under the skin along my neck, but I couldn’t even find the edge where the hide ended and only managed to scratch the hell out of my neck. I didn’t think I was going to be able to take it off that way, so I grabbed my knife. This is where the worst of my suspicions were confirmed.
I made a small cut, right above my belly button. It hurt like hell and BLED. I cleaned the cut up and to my horror found my own layer of skin was no longer there, just a living layer of fur. I watched, slightly fascinated as I saw where my blood vessels had tied into to the hide’s existing system. But this wasn’t supposed to happen, our immune systems were supposed to be rejecting each other! Heck, even when one receives another human organ his immune system will attack it as a foreign body and that’s with the same species!
I can even wag my tail (a little, but I get more feeling in it every day), and where the hide ends on my legs it just seems to melt into my normal skin. What am I going to do? Even my penis seems to be mounted firmly in the sheath, destroying my hopes of ever having kids.

Apr. 15
Been doing a lot of thinking, and I’v looked over the past entries in this journal. I did ask that part of my life be taken and given to my friend. Could it be that his skin is what lives on, replacing that part of me? The more I look at it the more it looks like that is what it is. I look at my... my paws. Wow does it feel awkward writing that, but that’s what they are now. The black leathery pads on each of my finger tips and under the base of my fingers where my hand would be. I’m even developing one on my thumb. My tail has become a multi purpose tool with me gaining almost full feeling of it. It’s a blanket, scent fan, and armor for your belly and nuts all in one. Sure it seems to have a mind of it’s own, but I’m starting to really like it.
I have no intentions of giving up and returning to the chains of society now. Not only would it been rather difficult to do so, but it would seem as if I’ve been given the tools to remain out here and finish my year challenge to myself, if not stay longer.

May 4
Life has been pretty good lately, although the warmer it gets the more I wonder how creatures with fur keep form over heating. Damn this stuff is warm!
I made an interesting discovery today. Reaching back to scratch my head I found that my fur has started an advance. It’s moved to the top of my neck and has started replacing the hair on the back of my head. I’m not sure what to make of this yet, and I’m nervous on just how far it’s going to go.

May 23
Whoa, what a day. It all started out with the idea to head back over to where I had left my truck back in November and see if it was still there or if the forest service had towed it away. There were voices as I got closer and I began my stalking approach to see just what was up. I crept to the top of a hill where I could see two vehicles parked on the over grown logging road. The front one I recognized as my black ford, the battered Taurus behind it however seemed somewhat familiar too. There were two figures crawling around the truck. I squinted, trying to make out facial features.
I had forgotten that I had left a map of where I had intended of going with my friend Andrew and now it looked like someone had followed it out here to see how I was doing. I recognized a young man as the friend I had left the map with. The other, a woman, that would have to be-

“Cali!”

I immediately clawed myself across the face for my outburst. NO! Why on earth had I done that? I shot a fearful glance to where they were looking in my direction and dove back over the crest, taking off as fast as I could back the way I had come. Why oh why had I opened my fat mouth? I had forgotten for a moment that I now looked like something from a bad werewolf movie and had called out to the young lady who had lived across the street to me. I had to say, we had been close friends in high school and I had liked her a lot, though always lacking the guts to do anything serious with the relationship. She had tagged along with him (or perhaps driven him, knowing her) out here.
I bolted across the familiar terrain, my sides feeling like the puma had clawed them open as well. My stash tree came into view and I clawed my way up it, scrambling onto the bloodstained platform and dropping down flat on it.
I lay there for what seemed like eternity, consciously trying to slow my breathing and heartbeat so the whole woods couldn’t hear it. After a while I listened intently for any signs of being followed. All the wind carried was the sound of young leaves in the breeze and the smell of the near by cedar swamp.
No longer had I set my feet on the ground and taken a few steps when I heard the sounds of voices. Shit.
Again I bolted, but only for a short ways before doubling back and creeping back towards the stash tree. I silently crammed myself under a fallen log and watched as Andrew stooped over something on the ground and then stood up. Cali was paging through a book and seemed mildly interested.

“He hid in this tree for a while, see how there are boot marks against the trunk? But I think he left when he heard us coming and went off that way.”

He pointed in the direction I had gone, the trail of churned up leaves and loam as obvious as a blaze orange squirrel. Damn it, when had Andrew learned how to track? I had always remembered him as totally oblivious when it came to woodcraft.
Cali handed him the book.

“Where do you think he went? This says he went back to his den, so if follow those tracks we’ll probably find him waiting for us at his camp, right?”

Andrew shook his head. “That’s for herbivores. He’s way craftier than that, and a carnivore at that. They will take off in one direction, then double back and stalk their trackers. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s hiding somewhere around here watching us and laughing his ass off. Knowing him he’ll keep it up for a while and eventually jump out at us.”

Oh, didn’t I wish. My heart started to beat faster as they spread out and began searching the dips and mounds, behind and up trees and under fallen logs. I was too close to run away again, they would be sure to see me as I tried to bolt. I pressed myself into the ground and prayed they wouldn’t find me.

“Oh, ew.”

Cali had found the Puma carcass where I had left it, half as a warning to any who got close and half out of laziness..
“Wow,” said Andrew, coming up next to her, “I bet that fight is a story worth telling. Come on, let’s keep looking, he has to be around here somewhere and you know he’s not going to take Oli-oli-oxentree as an answer.”

My heart began to pound as Cali caught sight of my tree and boldly walked up to it. She cleared the leaves away from in front of my face and squinted into the darkness where I lay, as if she couldn’t see me. I was looking her in the eyes, watching her pupils adjust when she finally realized what she was staring at.

“Ah-hah! Found you!” she shouted. I mearly stared fearfully back, my mind working over time thinking of some way around the inevitable. She noticed my expression.

“What’s wrong,” she asked as Andrew came up behind her, “don’t you remember me?”

“Oh I remember you all right Cali, I’m just wondering what brought you out here.”

“Oh,” chuckled Andrew, “she insisted on coming out and seeing how you were doing. We found your truck but no tracks and got a bit worried, but then I didn’t really expect to find you anyway as your usually pretty good at hiding yourself. We were actually about to leave when you yelled her name.”

“Well, I’m fine, doing great, thanks for checking on me,” I stammered, eager for them to leave.

“What’s wrong, are you stuck?” asked Andrew as he reached under the log.

“NOOOO!” I yelled as I was dragged out from under the log and into the daylight.

Cali screamed. Andrew turned a ghostly white and gaped as I stood in all of my furry goodness.

“Wha, wha, what the hell happened to you?” he gasped.

So I told them. Everything from the puma to my friend's last gift to me to where I found I no longer had the option of taking it off. Cali listened, but remained terrified, hiding behind Andrew. We walked as I talked, ending where I used to have my camp. Because I had fur now I didn’t really have any use for it or a fire, but the woods was getting dark and not being used to walking in the dark they would have to stay out here. There was an awkward silence as I finished. I stood where my shelter once stood, and several yards away Cali cowered behind where Andrew sat on my pile of fire wood. It hurt to see her afraid of me.

“Cali,” I said, “do not be afraid of me. I am the same person I was before, just with different skin. Please come here.”

She was silent for a moment, then shaking came forward. I held my arms out, paws palm up.
“Touch me, I won’t hurt you.”

She cautiously crept forward, reached out and petted my arm with a trembling hand.

I suddenly found myself hugging her. She went rigid as stone for a second, then relaxed and gently hugged me back. We stood there for a few seconds before she began running her fingers through my fur. It felt good.

“Your soft” she whispered.

A few hours later is where I am now, the fire relit in front of us. I am in between Andrew and Cali, who have rolled almost on top of me as their sleeping bodies seek shelter from the cooling night air. I close now. Tomorrow they will head back home, and I will go back to my normal life of finding food and exploring out here.

June 7
The fur is taking over. Literally. It has encompassed the entire back of my head, covering my ears which have begun a migration to the top of my head. In front it creeps over the edge of my chin, and I know it is only a matter of time until the muzzle develops. I already know what is going to happen, come August I’ll be lucky if I can speak more than whines barks and howls. My boots hurt to wear, so I got rid of them. The enhanced smell and hearing will help immensely with getting food, but I hope with all my might I keep my mind intact. I don’t know what would happen to me if I become a wolf mentally. The idea makes me nervous.

July 4
Happy Birthday United States. You once were the most free and fasted growing nation in the world, what happened? I seek to experience the freedom once offered by you long before I was born. So far I love it immensely, and though it is a hard life I cannot imagine how anyone would ever let this betaken from them.
My ears are triangular shaped now, I can see them above me as I stare into my reflection in the river. My muzzle is still short, and my nose slowly blackening and becoming more canine. Speaking english is starting to become a challenge. It has begin to hurt walking on my heels, so I’v taken to going around on my toes and it feels perfectly fine. So far as I can tell, my mind is still my own, with the addition of a few instincts tacked on to my conscious.

July 22
My muzzle is done. I drink like a dog now, mainly because nothing else works for beans. I can kill almost as efficiently with my teeth as with my spear. My speed now is phenomenal, the wold tearing past in a blurr when I run. I have found that while I can walk upright and do everything perfectly fine that way, I can run on all fours just as easily.

Aug. 12
Well brother, where ever you may be happy birthday. If I ever see you again I hope I will still remember you.
I’m pretty sure the metamorphosis has stopped, as not much has changed in a while now. As far as I can tell I look like a giant, two legged wolf. My mind is like that of an intelligent canine. I remember my child hood, all the way up to enlisting, boot camp, getting discharged and even picking my nose that night of the thunderstorm four months before I left to come out here. I am extremely attracted to food and love to smell everything, just because there are so many different smells! I want to find out what each one is and where it comes from. I am tired of being alone out here. While I enjoy the wilderness more than anything, I need my pack, or at least others I can love and have love back. Hunting for one’s self is good and all that, but I can’t help but think of how much better it would taste to be able to bring it back and share it.
The pack thing is another issue. I think I am living on borrowed time before a local pack of wolves decides I am invading territory and we have a confrontation. Despite being bigger and armed with a spear and knife I seriously doubt I am any match for a group of coordinated killers.

Sept. 16
Cooler weather at last. Aaaahhhhh. It feels so good on the nose and belly.

Oct. 3
The leaves are in full swing here, their radiance making the treetops appear as if they were on fire. Frost comes every night now, and I can feel my winter coat growing in. Custom made long underwear!

Oct. 30
Inevitable happened today. Early this morning I was out hunting when I smelt them on the wind. Next thing I knew I was surrounded, the circle of glowing eyes in the dark. Oops! I ran like all holy hell back to the truck, about a five mile sprint. I’m proud of that. A year ago I’d have been winded after one. Now I’m sitting in the truck here. The seat is no longer as comfortable with a tail and the pack lingers outside, wondering how to breach the steel skin of the truck. I could simply move to a different spot in the forest, there is plenty of room, but I know it would only be a matter of time until another pack chased me out, or worse, a park ranger found me. I am ten days short of my year obligation to myself, and I think I can let that slide. Tonight I will drive the four hours to my home. I’ll stay there for a while until I figure out what to do. Perhaps I will go to collage or get a job, mabey I’ll run into an old friend, I know it will be impossible to stay hidden from them. I might decide that my place truly is in the wild, though I will not return here. Instead I’ll find my way to the great expanses in northwestern Canada. Tomorrow is all hallows eve, so hopefully people will just brush me off as a costumer.

Nov. 1
Halloween was awesome! The truck sounds a bit funny, but I think that might be from my more sensitive hearing.
It broke my heart when I got home. I pulled into my parent’s drive late yesterday afternoon. Their dog Sniffy, my old partner-in-crime and perhaps even my best friend, heard my truck and came bounding across the yard. Her tail was wagging so hard she was having trouble running straight. She is a big dog, about 90 lbs and not afraid of much, so when she caught sight of me and shrank back in fear it hurt like a hot knife.
There must be part of my smell that has remained the same, because when the wind shifted I could see her sniff the air before ever so cautiously approaching. Ever so slowly I held my paw out for her to Sniff before cautiously stroking her head.

I hid out from the rest of my family behind the garage in the rear of the property. I heard them speak when the arrived home and saw my vehicle parked in the driveway, and then voice their disappointment to discover I was nowhere ot be found. But that was acceptable, I remember working like that all the way back to high school.
Darkness fell and I could see trick-or-treaters beginning to make their rounds. If I was seen now I’d blend right in, so I left my hiding place and drifted across the street to Cali’s house. The house was completely dark with the exception of four jack-o-lanter’s glowing eerily on the front porch. The smell of scorching pumpkin mixed with paraffin burned the inside of my nostrils. I crept around to the back, keeping to the tree line next to the driveway. Cars filled it all the way to the dilapidated garage, one even had the smell of recent exhaust and the ticking of cooling metal. I didn’t even recognize most of these vehicles.
I stole up to the back door and paused a moment before knocking. I really should have been doing this at the front door. That way if anyone but her answered I could just walk stiff, talk with my mouth closed and pretend to be someone in a costume. Knocking on the back door was my signature to her though. If she was home she would hopefully be a little prepared.
No sooner had my claw pushed in the glowing yellow doorbell did the door fling open and a pair of arms drag me inside. The door closed forcefully behind me as the lights flicked on, a crowd of ghouls, ghosts, witches, zombies, a cat girl and even a werewolf yelling surprise. There was a large paper banner above the doorway into the living room that read “Welcome Home Dan” That would have been wonderful... if my name was Dan.
Instead they surprised an edgy six foot tall half wolf, tail between his legs, ears back, teeth barred and in the basic warrior position. It seemed like I stood there until the sun rose again. A crowd of alien faces went from smiles to shock, and there was nothing I could do to stop myself from emitting a low growl. In reality it was probably only a few seconds, but eventually one of the faces moved, drawing my attention.
It was Cali, wearing a pair of synthetic black ears, a tail on her belt and paw like mittens. Her nose was painted black and there were whiskers drawn on with a grease pencil. My growl dropped, I covered my teeth again, relaxed my tail and forced my ears to perk back up. Slowly she came forward, and under her makeup I could see my initial appearance had made her quite nervous.
It hit me she didn’t know what kind of state my mind was in. Last she knew I had a wolf’s hide growing on me from the neck to my ankles. Now I had a muzzle and everything else. Talking was out, I could barley speak english with a muzzle and definitely not in front of a group, so I held out my paw.
Shakingly she took it, staring in amazement at my face before turning to the costumed group.
“Everyone, this is Richard Blackfoot. I had invited him and forgot he was coming. Quickly, turn off the lights and hide again before Dan gets here.”
The room was plunged into darkness again. My lupin eyes quickly adjusted before she took my hand and lead me out of the room. It was a little strange being able to see and watch someone leading you tread carefully because they can’t.
She brought me around the corner and into the living room, which was vacant. We crouched behind the sofa and she reached out in my direction. I grabbed her hand and pushed it into my shoulder. She leaned in, guessing where my head was.

“Is that you Rick?” she whispered.

“Yes,” I muttered back. I hoped she didn’t want a verbal explanation, speaking with a muzzle was so hard...

“Is this what happened? What about your....your..”

“I am ta same one you kner be-hor. Just haf some doggy instincts.”

“And a little extra in the nose department. all right, shhh, I think I hear a car coming.”

We ducked down as a vehicle crunched up the gravel driveway. When the person walked in (Dan was a cousin of Cali’s, returning from a tour in the middle east) we all yelled surprise and cut cake and stuff like that. I immediately left before any of her guests discovered that I wasn’t wearing a costume. That was when the real fun started.
I drifted around the neiborhood, watching children going from door to door and unsure of what to do with myself. Occasionally I would hide in the shadows, only to pop out snarling at a group of older trick-or-treaters. It was all in good fun though. After the initial shock wore off I would chuckle and wave as I walked away. Most were appreciative and enjoyed the scare. Eventually trick-or-treating ground to a halt as tired costumers found their way home. I was about to call it a night and return to the pain full task of explaining things to my family when my sensitive ears caught a whimper. It came from a smaller side street, one I had been down earlier.
I turned down the little road, earlier it had been lit with porch lights but now it was by comparison dark. Two blocks down I could see a small circle of people gathered. Putting my four paws to use I stole up for a closer look, the whole thing smelling bad.
It turned out to be a group of highschoolers who were out looking for trouble. They had found a younger kid and his friend and were demanding all their candy, threatening to tape him to the flag pole in front of the school if they didn’t.
I worked up as much saliva in my mouth before rising grinning to my full height behind the leader. One of the boys in the middle, I guessed he was in about sixth or seventh grade, saw me and turned ghost white. I gave an evil chuckle, making the older teen spin around, coming face to muzzle with me. He froze there, and just stared. I felt the foam slide over my lips and saliva drip off my fangs.

“Run,” I said, in as sinister a voice I could make.

Run he did. The circle broke, leaving the boy and what I realized was his sister standing in front of me. The smell of fresh urine stung my nostrils. I covered my teeth again and swallowed the extra spit before turning to them.

“Go home,” I said, trying to sound much less threatening, “I’ll make sure they don’t bother you again.”

Finding the teens was no problem, they were resting outside a pair of cars. One of them had the door open and the dome light was out. That gave me an idea.
Eventually they agreed to go back to one of the guy’s houses and spend the night there, I guess my appearance had shaken them up all pretty badly. I slipped into the rear seat and ducked down low. A couple of people got into the front seat, some young man and his girlfriend.

“It’s ok, we’ll watch a couple of movies, then probably just crash,” he said.

“I’ll think there’s popcorn in the cupboard, I’ll check when we get there.”

I stuck my head between the seats and prepared my creepy voice.

“Yummy, popcorn...”

There was a blood curling scream followed by them flying out of that car faster than I thought was humanly possible. I followed them a for about a mile on foot, where they went into a house. As a final touch I caught a rabbit and ate it, dripping blood all down their front stairs and walkway. I think I scared them so bad they are either going to die young or go gray by the age of twenty.
It’s about two thirty in the morning now, I’m in my old bedroom at home. Everyone else is asleep, and soon I will be too. I’ll need it, tomorrow is going to be long.

Nov. 2

Damn, what a day. It all started when I woke up in the morning, the smell of cooking bacon wafting upstairs. I love my nose, nothing can get by it. Anyway, mom loves homemade food, and even better, she loves to cook, so almost every meal (aside form the occasional frozen pizza) is made from the raw materials by hand. I stole downstairs, where Sniffy greeted me a good morning. I gave her a hug and petted her, and she returned into the other room and I crept low to the kitchen door and peeked in.
Sure enough, mom was there, happily scrambling eggs and singing in complete nonsense about the dog. A normal morning so far. She stopped when she caught sight of my head peering into the room.

“Hello, who are you? Did Sniffy manage to bring in a friend?” she said, still sounding cheerful.

“I’m your son.”

There was a clatter as she dropped the bowl of raw egg and the whisk. Sniffy appeared next to me with a look of concern on her muzzle. I like her, she really does care about people.
I stood to my full height and took a step into the kitchen. Mom just stared back in shock.

“It’s ok ma, even Sniffy knows me. Look it’s a long story, but I’ll explain...”

And I did. I sat down at the kitchen table and started retelling best as I could remember what happened. I didn’t get very far before I gave up and got this journal to show her. When I returned to the kitchen Sniffy had volunteered to clean all the raw egg off the floor and ma was making another batch. I showed her the above entries, from when I started to yesterday, and I think she believes me. At least, I haven't been kicked out or shot or had animal control called on me yet.

No one else was awake after we got done eating breakfast, so I left to go for a run and let her explain things to my father and whatever siblings were still living at home. When I returned panting about an hour later My father was gone, and my brother and sister were on the computer in the living room. They still were surprised, but nothing like mom.

Nov. 4
This is a curse. I do not belong with the wolves of the wild, and I cannot stay with society. It’s like I’m forced to wander this world alone. I’m taking Blacksheep (my truck) and going back up to the northern peninsula. I’ll leave her with a friend that could use a vehicle, and then I’m going to disappear I think. If the packs are still aggressive against me I’ll just have to keep on the move, probably making my way towards the Northern wilderness of Alaska and Canada. After that I’ll see what I feel like. Mabey I’ll get lucky and meet a few others out there, outcasts and woods lovers like myself. Or perhaps I’ll run into the stranded motorist. Either way I hope I won’t take out my frustration on them, because I’m sure I’ll be frustrated by then. Mabey I’ll lend a hand, get lucky and end up making a friend. Being lonely is no fun.