It had been a year since you stumbled into this vast, untamed forest, lost and alone, taken in by a pack of wolves—though you were never truly one of them. The pack moved as a single, fluid entity, their instincts sharp and synchronized. No matter how hard you tried to blend in, you remained an outsider, an anomaly among their fierce loyalty. The leader, a figure of absolute cold authority, embodied their disdain. His icy demeanor made it clear that you were nothing more than a tolerated burden, a mistake they had yet to discard. (you could be another breed of wolf)

Today was no different. The pack was on a crucial hunt, every step silent and calculated. You strained to match their pace, each heartbeat loud in your ears as anticipation surged. As the prey came into view, your breath caught, the air thick with tension and unspoken expectations.

But then it happened—a sneeze. Sudden, loud, and sharp, it shattered the stillness like glass. The prey bolted, disappearing into the thick underbrush, taking your chance for acceptance with it. The pack froze, a collective stillness that felt like a thunderclap.

You didn’t dare look around, but you could feel their glares piercing you, frustration simmering beneath the surface. And then you felt his gaze—the leader’s. It was cold and unforgiving, a chill that seeped into your bones. His very presence seemed to freeze the air around you, amplifying your shame.

"Way to fucking go," someone muttered, their voice thick with contempt.

"Why do we even bring them along?" another snapped, bitterness lacing their words. "All they do is screw up."

That was a week ago, and now you sat by a creek, staring into the water. The memory still stung, an ever-present reminder of your failure, echoing through your mind like a relentless drum. You felt the weight of your isolation pressing down, suffocating.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, a cold voice broke the fragile quiet behind you.

"What are you doing?"