It was a dream come true. Yellowstone National Park! I was going there for summer vacation! I could see real wolves in real action! Never did I dream that I would meet one in the wild.
Never did I dream it would change my life forever.
There was no bite. There was no blood. Yet somehow I still became one.
And I can't control it.
The beast kills on its own free will. I can't stop it. Yet I have to do something to stop all these deaths. But what?
Maybe mine is the only solution.
We made it to the next camp site and started sorting out our belongings. I isolated myself in my tent, sorting through all the pictures, deleting the ones that were bad or blurry, which, trust me, there weren't very many. I lay spread out on my back, camera screen held above me, going through each and every picture, admiring the photography I didn't know I was capable of.
I spent hours in my tent, and before I knew it, I could smell something cooking outside over a fire. Even though the sun was still setting, I could see the silhouettes of my mom, dad, and the guide outside around the fire. I could even make out the frizzy hair of my mom; some hairs stuck out like thin wires from her head due to the humidity. I lightly touched my hair, and sighed with relief when I found it was normal. My hair had the same problem as my mom's. It frizzed up in lots of humidity, and, if I let it air dry, it looked like my head was the bottom side of a broom.
The smell of what was for dinner wafted into the tent, and I crinkled my nose in disgust. They were roasting vegetables or something. I sniffed again, curious, and found that I could actually make out the scent of what vegetables there were. Carrots, mushrooms, even some turnips. I was surprised I was able to identify the food so easily. Where they had managed to find these, I'll never know. I just hope they hadn't brought them with them. The heat would have killed the vegetables and made everything....unpleasant. Ah, well, I thought, I can always have a packet of Pop-Tarts I brought with me. I'm a sneaky little person; I brought half the meals I knew I would have with me from Virginia. My parents have a tendency to make things I don't like, and, since I'm a picky eater, I usually just eat what I wanted.
I quickly slipped out a silver packet and peeled it open, staring in awe at the delicacies inside of it. I took a quick bite, and resisted the urge to moan with pleasure as the marshmallow and chocolate practically melted on my tongue (the flavor is s'mores, by the way). I heard my mom getting up from her spot around the fire, and I quickly stuffed the remainder of the Pop-Tart in my mouth, hiding the other one in the pouch under the flap of my sleeping bag. I practically swallowed the one in my mouth whole, and yet I didn't choke, which was a surprise to me, and when my mom poked her head into the tent it looked as if I was still sorting through my pictures.
"Dinner's ready!" she said perkily.
I mumbled incomprehensibly to acknowledge I had heard, and my mom went to tell my sister.
As soon as my mom was out of earshot, I took out my remaining Pop-Tart and gulped it down. At least I wouldn't have to worry about dinner. And we were probably going to have actual s'mores for dessert anyway, so bonus!
I went out of my tent and sat on one of the logs. My dad handed me a plate with the steaming vegetables, and, while he wasn't looking, I grimaced and threw a couple over my shoulder. Let the animals have them, I thought. They should enjoy them more than I would. And, when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw a few birds make off with the mushrooms I had thrown, and a rabbit was munching contentedly on a carrot. I grinned and returned my attention to the fire.
The rest of my family and our guide soon joined me and my dad around the fire, all talking about the day, how beautiful the park was, and so on and so forth. While no one was paying attention, I kept slipping pieces of food behind my back and throwing them to the critters, who had all seemed to line up for the donations. When my dad asked me for seconds, I said sure, and those went to good use, too.
When dinner was done, our guide broke out a bag of chocolates, marshmallows, and graham crackers. Now the fun would really start. As soon as everyone had one or two of the amazing s'mores, our guide took out his harmonica and started playing some tunes for us. My mom and dad knew most of them, so they started singing along, as if drunk off of the chocolate gooey heaven, and my sister and I clapped to the beat. It was yet another wonderful night. If only I could live out here.
After about an hour of this, I excused myself to find the cabin that served as an outhouse. I found it ironic that the outhouse was kept in surprisingly nice conditions, including air-conditioning, whereas the residents of a camping trip got to sleep on the bumpy ground outside in the hot air. I shrugged. It didn't matter. It just made the call of nature all the more relaxing and comfortable, in my opinion, which was all I cared about.
(No, I am not going into detail about the call of nature.)
I closed the stall door behind me and washed my hands in the sink. The water was cool and refreshing, so I splashed a couple hand fulls over my face. The feeling was absolutely amazing; I felt completely rejuvenated afterwards.
But when I looked at myself in the mirror, water dripping slowly down the sides of my cheeks, I almost shouted in surprise and leaped back away from my reflection.
My eyes weren't hazel anymore.
They were gold. A shining, solid gold.