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The wolf is hungry.
It is running for a while now, hiding for longer. Dark, burned lands changed to sharp rocks under its feet. Sharp rocks shifted into cold ground and big dark trees, covered with a layer of something white and cold.
Snow, the voice in its head sighs. It is called "snow", and you will freeze to death should you not find a place to hide.
WE will freeze to death, the wolf corrects, and the voice groans.
I don't care. Just - dig up a den, or whatever it is wolves sleep in.
We always slept in a cage, the wolf wonders. Or by our Master's side.
Don't you dare to speak of Master, the voice hisses.
But Master was warm, the wolf thinks, and whines at the memory of Master's touch and voice. It missed being touched, it decided.
Stop, the voice whispers. Stop right now. Please.
I can't, the wolf admits. I miss him. He cared about us.
He- no. Stop. A den. Make a den.
I don't know how.
What? You're a wolf. You know how to make dens.
The wolf stops. It wanders to a nearby tree and tries to dig down.
I can't, it finally whines.
You're a wolf!
WE're a wolf.
I'm not. I'm-
We are a wolf! You keep... you keep claiming we're separated, but-
we ARE separated! We ARE different! I'm not YOU-
you ARE!
... Whatever. Make a godforsaken den.
You won't let us. We're separated while we ought to be the same.
Nonsense. Get to work.
I can't, are you even listening? Stop interrupting us. Stop trying to rule us. Stop. We will never survive if you keep trying to fit a human soul into animal body. We can't hear, we can't smell, we can't see while you keep us separated. We're not supposed to think. We're not supposed to worry. We're supposed to be. You can't be without me. I can't be without you. Please.
The voice falls silent. The wolf sighs.
Please, it asks, trust us. Trust yourself.
The voice shifts, and the wolf rises its ears.
The forest around it is full of sounds and smells again, and the wolf takes off. It feels the blood running through its body, it feells every muscle and every fur, and it no longer thinks of voices or death or separation.
The wolf feels a prey upon it, trembling and fragile and alive.
The wolf bares its teeth.
The wolf is hungry.
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It's been 7 long years.
The final season of Percy Jackson and the Olympians has just begun to release.
The Ares and Apollo cabins are in a dispute over ownership for the flying chariot.
The counselors sit around a table in the Big House.
Percy has just learned that he's (probably) gonna die in the next month, when Clarisse and Michael begin to bicker. Percy has had it up to here.
He starts clapping rhythmically. There is a lull in the room as they stare at him.
He claps faster.
"Oh golly, the road's getting bumpy, cause I've got me some friends who just can't get along-"
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