Now, as far as the content goes, I thought it was interesting! At first, I was a little bit confused because he was a wolf that dreamed that he was a human, but then it became clear that that was a flashback. To maybe ease the transition a bit more, you could possibly integrate more human aspects with the wolf. Preface
“'Cause nobody wants to do it on their own
And everyone wants to know they´re not alone
There's somebody else that feels the same somewhere
There`s gotta be somebody for me out there”
Gotta Be Somebody, Nickleback
I liked how you used song lyrics here.
1
White Winter
Where the black sky touched the white snow, there was movement. A wolf. He pushed through the snow wearily. Harsh winds blew from the north, sculpting the frozen tundra. All life here was waiting, holding its breath for spring to come, for longer days whose sunlight will coax forth new life.
I really liked this opening paragraph. It was vividly descriptive!
The wolf was oblivious to its patience. Oblivious to the freezing snow that failed to penetrate his dense winter fur. Determination alone drove him forward, on and on through the snow. Determination to find what was missing from his life, to find his purpose. I like your repetition of the word determination in these sentences.
Since Day One, the Pull practically hijacked him and steered him through deserts, forests and countryside; up mountains, over rivers; through rain, shine or snow. He’d run until his legs gave out and fatigue got the better of him. He’d sleep through the better part of the day then wake up and dash off again, going in whatever direction the Pull hauled him.
His life didn't used to be this way. His winters had never been this deadly, he used to spend them sitting in front of a blazing fire, surrounded by family and close friends. He would eat so much, till his shirt was bursting at the seams. Now he was clenched in the jaws of loneliness, awaiting certain starvation. How had life changed so drastically? It had all begun three years ago...
Out of pure boredom, Dakota wound his pencil up in his shaggy blonde hair. The bell sounded out in the corridor, muffled through the wooden door. Dakota dropped the pencil and it clattered noisily onto the desk.
“Mr Whitmore, I’d like to speak to you for a minute,” Mrs Rush called as he stood to leave with the other students. He was being kept in for dropping a pencil? “Regarding your geography assignment,” the craggy old teacher added.
“What about it, miss?” Dakota asked politely, shouldering his rucksack.
“Where is it?”
Dakota looked confused. “I emailed it to you.”
“Well,” Mrs Rush said, matter-of-factly. “I haven’t received it.”
Fury bubbled up inside of him. The old bat probably didn’t even know how to get on the internet, let alone access her email account. “Check again,” Dakota was livid. What was wrong with him? He had to calm down.
“Don’t you use that tone with me,” Mrs Rush glowered. “This kind of behaviour will not be tolerated!”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about what’s tolerated!” Dakota bellowed.
“Mr Whitmore, kindly calm down and we can talk this through with the head master.”
“I am calm!”
Hm... I wasn't too keen on this dialogue. The beginning of this chapter was great when you were describing and doing all of that. I just feel that your dialogue has let you down a bit. For example, would Dakota really get that wound up so quickly? Also, I don't really know many teachers that would behave in that way, either. For me, it just didn't seem as realistic as it could have been.
Dakota was literally trembling with rage, then, like a bomb exploding, fur burst from his skin and his bones contorted. Now why does Twilight come to mind... It wasn’t painful; it was like unleashing some dark hidden power from deep within his soul. Suddenly he wasn’t him anymore; he was something better, more powerful. All he wanted to do was tear into the warm flesh before him. He could imagine the wetness of the blood, trickling into his mouth. He could almost hear the screams of pain from his victim. He acted on his desires. I liked this description.
What am I doing? Dakota thought. What am I? He tore himself away from the mangled body of the teacher and crashed out of the classroom window and into the forest beyond. He seems rather calm to have just turned into a wolf... surely, he'd be panicking a bit? Maybe you could display his emotions a bit better here.
He shook the memory from his mind. Stop dwelling on the past, he commanded himself, it’s been three years! But he could not escape the guilt. In a way, this lonely wandering was his punishment. In a completely different way, this was what he had to do, for reasons he could not explain.
There had to be something more than the mindless daily running. The magnetic force that pulled him across the country had to be leading him somewhere. I will find it, whatever the Pull is taking me to, he vowed. I’ll find it or I’ll die trying.
The snowfield before him spread out endlessly like the ocean. It was more uninviting than the one behind him, the one he just came from. At least he knew the one behind had food, but what animal was dumb enough to stray this far? Should he turn back, just to be safe? He looked back at the snowy ridge he’d just passed over and saw a white shape moving up there.
Food! Every instinct screamed at him to seize the moment, but he remained as frozen as the ground beneath him. Something held him back. The Pull. It didn’t want him to go that way. Screw this, he thought angrily. I’m starving. He squinted through the sleet pounding his face as he made his way back up the ridge. Whatever the shape had been, it was gone when he got there. At I think you've used the wring word here, what's it supposed to be? I'm not sure... hisfeetpaw prints led back the way he’d came. He placed his own paw in one of them. Almost a perfect match. Whoever had been here, it had been someone like him. Someone neither wolf nor person.
These last few sentences confused me a bit, I wasn't too sure what was going on. Mind you, this is probably just me being thick...
A small splash of colour against the pallid winter landscape grabbed his attention. Fluttering around his head was a vivid red bird with a black face, singing its sweet song. A Northern Cardinal. He recognised it at once and he knew what this meant; spring was on the way. Hope elated him. An ending to his suffering was in sight. His attention was diverted to a streak of black against the field of white below. It was gone in less than a second. Maybe he and his bird companion weren’t completely alone in this strange white world.
With nothing to lose, and so much to gain, he pushed onward.
This sentence is a bit cliché, but I liked it.
Where the black sky touched the white snow, there was movement. A wolf. He pushed through the snow wearily, his forever vigilant eyes scanning the rolling hills for danger. Harsh winds blew from the north, sculpting the frozen tundra. All life here was waiting, holding its breath for spring to come, for longer days whose sunlight will coax forth new life.I'm not sure that this grabs my attention enough that in a normal setting I would continue reading. I suppose it was good enough though.
The wolf was oblivious to its patience. Oblivious to the freezing snow that failed to penetrate his dense winter fur. Determination alone drove him forward, on and on through the snow. Determination to find what was missing from his life, to find his purpose. The Pull – the urge, the gut feeling to run - was leading him; it showed him the way.This whole paragraph is filled with well-done repitition. I don't think I quite like it though. If I were you, I would spread out the repitition so that it has more affect when the reader comes across it.
Since Day One, the Pull practically high-jacked him and steered him through deserts, forests and countryside; up mountains, over rivers; through rain, shine or snow.I don't like that there are so many semi-colons in this sentence. And I'm not a grammar whiz, but I think that they are used incorrectly. He’d run until his legs gave out and fatigue got the better of him. He’d sleep through the better part of the day then wake up and dash off again, going in whatever direction the Pull hauled him, no matter if it led him to his death. You say better twice in a fairly short amount of time. I would change one of them.
His life never used to be this way. His winters had never been this deadly, he used to spend them sitting in front of a blazing fire, surrounded by family and close friends. He would eat so much, 'til his shirt was bursting at the seams. Now he was clenched in the jaws of loneliness, awaiting certain starvation. How had life changed so drastically? It had all begun three years ago...
The four sickly yellow walls of the classroom closed in on Dakota, stealing the air right out of his lungs. Fifty-nine minutes inside the cramped classroom was enough to drive anyone insane, but for him it was worse. To distract himself from the pressing walls, Dakota wound his pencil up in his shaggy blonde hair. The bell sounded out in the corridor, muffled through the wooden door. In his rush to get out of the torture chamber, Dakota dropped the pencil and it clattered noisily onto the desk.
“Mr. Whitmore, I’d like to speak to you for a minute,” Miss Rush called as he stood to leave with the other students. He was being kept in for dropping a pencil? “Regarding your history test,” the craggy teacher added.
“What about it, miss?” Dakota asked politely, shouldering his rucksack.
“Compared to previous work submitted, your high results indicated that you used prohibited material during the exam conditions,” Miss Rush said, loud enough for the last students exiting the classroom to hear.
“What do you mean?” Dakota cocked his head to one side, trying and failing to understand the implication of her words.
“I mean you used a cheat sheet.”
He rocked back on his heels, away from the cruel mask that had replaced the kind, lined face of his history teacher. “Excuse me? I would never-”
“You would, and you did. You’re just like your cheating, scumbag father,” Miss Rush spat, palms flat on the wooden desk that she leaned over to get in Dakota’s face. It would be physically impossible for Dakota’s pale eyebrows to be further up his forehead.
With her foul breath pouring over him, it was hard to form the words to express the anger bubbling deep inside of him. Just thinking about this old woman and his father being together made Dakota want to vomit. At the start of the year when Dakota found out who his history teacher was he realized things were going to be awkward. Little did he know just how hung up Miss Rush still was after her fiancé cheated on her with Dakota’s mother seventeen years ago. Dakota had only found out about it because some of the students had heard Miss Rush bitching to other teachers about it and then come and teased him.
“I am nothing like my dad,” Dakota managed to growl through his anger, hands balling into fists.
“Maybe you take after your slut of a mother,” Miss Rush smirked, revealing her crooked, blackening teeth.
“My mum isn’t a slut! All that happened a long time ago, so would you just get over it?”
“I’m going to report this cheating incident to the head master; it’ll be my word against yours. With your family’s reputation of being lying cheaters, who do you think they’ll believe?”
Spiteful, ugly hag! Instead of Dakota’s face turning red with fury, his pale blonde hair darkened into brown fur and spread faster than germs all over his body. His nose lengthened into a snout, his clothes ripped to tatters as his bones twisted and disfigured into the shape of a wolf.
It wasn’t painful; it was like unleashing some dark hidden power from deep within his soul. Suddenly he wasn’t him anymore; he was something better, more powerful. All he wanted to do was tear into the warm flesh before him. He could imagine the wetness of the blood trickling into his mouth. He could almost hear the screams of pain from his victim. He acted on his desires.
What am I doing? Dakota thought. What am I? The overwhelming anger he’d felt just seconds before was replaced by worry and confusion. He tore himself away from the mangled body of the teacher and crashed out of the classroom window and into the forest beyond.
He shook the memory from his mind. Stop dwelling on the past, he commanded himself, it’s been three years! But he could not escape the guilt. In a way, this lonely wandering was his punishment. In a completely different way, this was what he had to do, for reasons he could not explain.
There had to be something more than the mindless daily running. The magnetic force that pulled him across the country had to be guiding him somewhere. I will find it, whatever the Pull is leading me to, he vowed. I’ll find it or I’ll die trying.
The snowfield before him spread out endlessly like the ocean. Would the rolling hills of snow ever end? If so, when? How long would he go without food? Should he turn back, head for the forest, just to be safe? He looked back at the snowy ridge he’d just passed over and saw a white shape moving up there.
Food! Every instinct screamed at him to seize the moment, but he remained as frozen as the ground beneath him. Something held him back. The Pull. It didn’t want him to go that way. Screw this, he thought angrily. I’m starving. Ice melted between his toes as he crunched back up the ridge, squinting his eyes against the sleet pounding in his face.
Whatever the shape had been, it was gone when he got there. However, dotting the ground ahead of him were paw prints leading back the way he’d came. He placed his own paw in one of them. Almost a perfect match. Whoever had been there, it had been someone like him. Someone neither wolf nor person. His attention was diverted to a streak of black against the field of white below. It was gone in less than a second. Maybe he wasn’t completely alone in this strange white world.
With nothing to lose, and so much to gain, he pushed onward.
It felt rushed, like you were eager to get to the good bits in later chapters. Enthusiasm is good, but slowing down the flashback and building up Dakota's character through his thoughts and dialogue would benefit your story very much. (Oh, and I agree with Skins comments on dialogue)
125,018 Literary Works • 672,853 Reviews
