Back when Tsuru was a young cub – back when she was still privy to that name and allowed to call herself by it – she was often sickly. Her clan was one of warriors. Strong and domineering wolves. It was often rumoured that her clan originated from two wolves that had shrines dedicated to them where humans would offer offerings and prayers of strength and tenacity. Not being the image of perfection and fear wasn’t an option. Even those who were weaker or sicklier, their purpose and value came from how fierce they could be; the healers too had to be larger than life and all-consuming to any who would see them.
Her wolf form especially was weak and deformed in the eyes of her family and clan. Two sizes smaller than everyone else. Claws that wouldn’t grow properly. Poor eyesight. No sense of smell. Thin and patchy fur that made her appear stuck in time; stuck between adult and cub, between living and dead. Tsuru couldn’t kill enemies, she couldn’t protect her clan, she couldn’t even understand the ways of medicine. However, most tragically, at least to her, was the fact she was somehow born without a working scent gland. She was physically incapable of bounding her soul to another. This small little mishap had shunned her to a life of loneliness and isolation. While all those around her came of age and found someone to share their lives with, she was stuck on the sidelines, forbidden from ever eating the blissful fruit of love. To her, love and companionship seemed like a far off dream, an unattainable fantasy for children. She felt trapped in a build-up to adulthood that would never come to fruition.
What she could offer, her clan wasn’t willing to take.
Tsuru would stand up to elders. She would play with the cubs. She would clean up the messes. She would keep those who were ill or dying company. Every time she fell down in training, every bruise she received, never stopped her from getting back up. Every single time she fell down she would push herself back up. No matter what. But in her clans’ minds, that wasn’t strength. That wasn’t something to be praised. If she couldn’t be big, if she couldn’t be what they defined as worthy, then she wasn’t welcome. She wasn’t wanted.
Which was exactly what happened.
The night she turned twenty-five she knew her life was over. She did. However she didn’t want to believe it. Tsuru wanted to believe that those who raised her, those who she’d grown up with and loved, wouldn’t just toss her aside like a piece of rotting meat. So she stayed. She stayed another three months doing what she could to help her family. To help her home.
When the time came, however, none of that was enough to save her.
The morning of the Ignition Into Clan ceremony, the one held for every wolf who had over the last sixth months come of age, Tsuru noted the sun had felt warmer than normal. The forest had smelt sweeter. Her family had looked happier. She wanted to believe life had given her a chance to be loved that day. She wanted to believe her clan would accept her for her own strengths.
Over the course of the day, until the night seeped darkness across the sky, Tsuru and the other wolves that were coming of age were set through a tribulation of trials and tests. It was expected for them to fail some of them. It was used to help allocate where the wolves would best be suited in the clan; where their assets would best be put to use. Of course, those who passed most or all of them would be sent to further trials to go into the running to potentially be the clan leader or to work alongside him.
Unsurprisingly to everyone other then Tsuru, she had failed all the tests – which she didn’t even know was possible.
The clan leader had sentenced her to death. A sacrifice to the gods of winters past. He had hoped that by offering Tsuru up, her spilled blood would leak into the land and from her ashes the clan would be blessed with a new cub who was strong. Not one that they had all deemed to be a plague, a leech and disappointment on them and their resources.
Those who she had grown up with. Had loved and cared for. They had beaten her. Gagged her and tied her up. Her family had disowned her and gave her name back to the gods – stripping her of her connection to them and deeming her as expendable. The clan doctor had forced her to transform into her human form – he had said she didn’t have the right to die with the dignity of being in her true form. They had cut her long black hair until it was curving under her chin.
But through it all, Tsuru stayed true to herself. She got back up.
She bided her time. She knew they all underestimated her. As long as she was tied up she knew they would believe their work to be done. She waited until things quieted down. She kept her eyes closed and breathing shallow. She knew a time would come, a time where those who were supposed to watch her would lose interest, would start talking amongst themselves. She would be able to slip out the back when that moment came. It would be short lived, however, Tsuru knew if she timed herself right she would have enough time to go.
Tsuru had dislocated her right shoulder to slip out of her restraints. Her bones clicking as the agony spread through her body. She bit her cheek to keep herself from screaming, though lose tears did run down her soiled face. Her body shook from the pain, yet she still went. Once her arms were released she took a few deep breaths. In and out. In and out. In and out. After getting a small pocket of her bearings back, Tsuru bit her cheek again and popped her arm back in. Knowing she didn’t have much time she tried to hold back the tears and low hiccups that continued to pulse from her. Bending down to her legs she quickly, but as quietly as she could, untied the ropes and placed them to the side.
Standing she checked to make sure she hadn’t been noticed and then she moved.
She didn’t bother looking for clothes, food or weapons. She just ran.
They may have seen her wolf form, her true form, as weak. But her human form was fast. So she ran, ran, ran, ran, ran, ran. She ran for as long as her legs would carry her. The cool morning dew splashed up her body. The branches of the forest nicked her skin. Dry blood stuck against her swollen eyes. It didn’t matter. She still ran.
She refused to give her clan the reward of her death. She refused to give them her life. She would take it back – so she ran.
She ran from who they deemed her to be and as the caramel sun rose in the ocean of the sky she ran towards tomorrow – she ran to who she wanted to be, not who she was told to be.
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