Going to live with the wolves.

As he climbs the wooden stairs, every thought that enters his mind seems to burst apart with light and sound like a firecracker in slow motion. He doesn't bother pondering the importance of the moments that are to follow, he just ascends. "One, two, one, two" his mind says as he climbs. Maybe 20 seconds later, he is at the door to the room he slept in every night. He gathers a few things, mainly essential items of clothing and a few reminders of friends (friends now gone). Through tired eyes he glances back at the room he used to call "his". He goes back down the stairs. He exits the front door. The pack is waiting for him in the yard. Snow falls silently; it already covers the ground, so the addition of a few million more flakes makes not a bit of difference. Before he realizes what he is doing, he leaves behind his life, he walks away with the wolves. He leaves behind his family, his friends, his hopes of success. Success doesn't matter to the pack of wolves. He likes that about them. If I were watching him, I'd see a boy walking alone down a cold, icy street.