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Two years. Two years had passed since that week, the event she called “The Nightmare.” It never really ended for her; her daughter never came back, after all. There was no waking up from that. Still, she felt like she wasn’t doing too badly now. She had her own house near a small town, she still had her job and her dalmatian, and she had even made some friends in the town. Not too bad. But sometimes it seemed too quiet, like a hurricane’s eye. Nothing ever changed out here. Sometimes an eerie feeling settled over her and fogged up her mind. It always disappeared as soon as it came, leaving a feeling of disorientation that soon faded as well. She had no explanation for it; it wasn’t her old nightmares. Those hadn’t bothered her much recently. Then what was up with that odd feeling? “Who knows..” she muttered to herself. “I can deal with it.”
Settling into the tree he was perched in, the werewolf sighed, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He was by no means new to this area, but he was, however, very lonely on a daily basis. He’d tried going into villages, only to find out that he wasn’t excepted, even in his human form. It seemed that they could tell what he was even then. So, he gave up on trying to “conform” to the villages and settled into the old, rundown hunting shack that someone had left up in the forest some ways away from the village. To be sure, he watched the shack for a few days, satisfied that he’d be left alone.
So now he sat, some ways away from the shack, waiting to see what the new day would bring him.