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Sierra:
I winced slightly at the sight of his transformation slowly beginning. "All right, you're about to shift. So I'm taking her—" I gestured to the girl. "—and we're going to leave the room. You're about to become a wolf, and I don't know how he'll react to two half-humans in the room."
I bit down hard on my lip as he began to transform. It must hurt. Of course it did. It felt like someone was tearing me apart just to sew me back together. Why would it be different for him?
I turned my gaze towards the girl, catching the wince.
“So your idea is to just leave him here,” I repeated slowly. “Until he shifts back.”
No. Please no.
What they were saying was insane. Impossible. But the disbelief that had previously dominated every corner of my brain was now fleeing from the threat of unimaginable pain. And to top it all off, the two girls were leaving me alone with this terrifying nightmare that I refused to believe was my new reality.
My bones strained against muscle and sinew, forcing me to my knees. “Please—“ I whimpered, horrified when a guttural growl slipped past my lips. “Don’t—Don’t leave me—alone—“
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Sierra:
"That's all we can do, unless we bring him outside. And if we do that, he would probably run off. Who knows where he would end up then?" I sighed. "Unless you have a better idea, that's what we have to do."
His voice, pained and frightened, reached my ears, and I cringed. Maybe I should at least stay with him. Rhys would be back any minute now, and he could take the girl…
“I’m not leaving him like this,” I furrowed my eyebrows. “He’s confused and in pain and lost. You’re supposed to help us, but you’re choosing to leave when it gets a little higher in difficulty?”
I curled into a tight ball, clenching my teeth as my trembling body reconfigured itself. I was being torn apart and put back together like a jigsaw puzzle, but I was being mended in the wrong way. My eyes flew open when my nails withdrew into my skin, giving way to monstrous claws.
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Sierra:
I glanced back at the girl and tore a hand through my hair. I didn't know how to handle this. I wasn't trained for this yet. That was what Rhys was supposed to be doing: training me.
"No, I'm not leaving… You are, though. Rhys will be here— Speak of the devil… He's here. Go with him. I'll stay here," I decided as Rhys walked into the room, a fairly confused look on his face. "Take her and go. I'm staying with him. The fewer of us here, the better."
I looked at Rhys, relief flooding through me. I hadn’t seen him after yesterday, when he had left and I exploded into panic and shifted.
My eyes flickered towards the shifting werewolf, sympathy and understanding on my features. I stood up and walked towards Rhys, and though I didn’t want to leave, I knew I had to. And maybe it was because it was Rhys that was taking me that I was most comfortable.
“Rhys,” I breathed out. “Is he—is he going to be all right?”
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Rhys:
I glanced down at Zenith and gave her an encouraging smile. “He’ll be fine. Sierra will make sure nothing goes wrong. She’s got a heart for the newly shifted wolves, but she doesn’t quite know how to use it. This will be good for both of them.”
Sierra:
When Rhys took the other girl out of the room, I gently shut the door behind them. I turned my attention back to the changing man in front of me and watched him carefully.
“You’re going to be okay,” I murmured gently, taking a small step toward him. “This will all be over soon. I promise.”
My heart warmed up at Rhys’s smile, and I returned it. “Okay.”
Somehow, I believed what he said. I was far too trusting for my own good, but I couldn’t sense the lie in his words. I followed him out of the door, giving the other newly turned an encouraging look as I walked out.
Another howl of pain escaped me, this time far more beast-like and monstrous and wild. My face, reconfiguring itself into a primal shape. My spine, cracking, bending, and elongating into something that felt far too much like a tail. My scarred skin, breaking open to make way for thickm grey-brown fur.
It was a nightmare.
Finally, it was done. I lay there, panting, dizzy, and blinded by sheer pain.
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Rhys:
“You must be hungry, having just woken up from shifting,” I assumed, glancing over at her as we walked through the house. “Do you want to go find something to eat?”
Sierra:
I did this to him. I made him go through all this pain. And for what? He’d startled me, but I usually had a better hold on myself than that. Granted, I had been jumpy already, so him shooting at me hadn’t helped. But now he was a wolf. And in so much pain that I could almost feel it myself…
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, running my hand through my hair.
My eyes snapped open.
I could see every detail of the room perfectly. Everything was sharp and defined, so defined it made my eyes hurt. Then, the scents came rolling in. Dirt. Bug. Damp mood. Mildew. Moss. Blood.
And, most importantly, werewolf.
Everything clicked into place. The girl in front of me, she smelled exactly like the wold from last night. Hate and bitter anger flooded my newly Turned body.
You did this to me.
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Sierra:
My eyes widened as I caught sight of the fierce anger in his eyes. He smelled angrier than anyone I’d ever encountered while being a werewolf. And it was directed at me.
A wave of fear-scent reached my nose, and I wondered where it came from. Then it dawned on me, slowly, that… I was the scared one…
Fear, sharp, acute, and overpowering. Only this time, it wasn't mine.
It was hers.
I snarled, suddenly strengthened by the sheer muscle of my new form, and made to lunge forward. But my legs got tangled in each other and sent me tumbling; I wasn't used to walking with four of them. I growled again, this time directing my gaze to my paws.
After a brief pause, I dragged a claw down the length of the wooden floorboard beneath me. A deep scratch was left in its wake. So this really wasn't a hallucination… My blood went cold.
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Sierra:
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, moving back a step. “Look. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did. And I’m not even sure if you can understand me in the form, but I truly and sorry. You startled me, but that’s still no excuse. So I’m sorry.”
I snarled.
Yeah, right. Rule number one of survival: never show people your weaknesses or give them an advantage over you. Rule number two? Never believe apologies.
The question now was, how did I turn back?
Rhys:
“You must be hungry, having just woken up from shifting,” I assumed, glancing over at her as we walked through the house. “Do you want to go find something to eat?”
I grimaced at him as the wave of hunger hit me and I wrapped my arms around my stomach.
“No raw meat, please,” I mumbled. “I’ll be fine without the raw meat.”
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Sierra:
He didn’t believe me. If he understood, hen he didn’t believe. That growl wasn’t something forgiving. That was something furious… But I didn’t know what else to do.
Rhys:
I scrunched my nose jonin distaste at the thought of raw meat. “No… No, we don’t do that. The only raw meat that we don’t cook is for when people shift into wolves. We’ve got a lot more than that. I’ll show you to the kitchen and you can look for whatever you want.”
I shook myself, trying to force my body to change, but it didn’t work. Turning my eyes to the girl, I raised a paw and jabbed it in her direction. Then, I tried to point it towards myself.
How do I change back?
Rhys:
I scrunched my nose jonin distaste at the thought of raw meat. “No… No, we don’t do that. The only raw meat that we don’t cook is for when people shift into wolves. We’ve got a lot more than that. I’ll show you to the kitchen and you can look for whatever you want.”
I breathed out in relief.
“Good, one more myth debunked,” I muttered under my breath. “And that sounds good. Thank you again, and I’m sorry you have to babysit so early in the morning.”
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Sierra:
The wolf raised his paw, almost as if he was pointing at me, and then bright it back to himself. I have him a confused look, my head tilted slightly off to the side. What did that mean?
Rhys:
My lips quirked up in a small smile upon hearing her low-spoken words. She seemed to have forgotten that werewolves have incredible hearing as humans.
“It’s no problem. I’m glad to help,” I assured her as we stepped into the kitchen. “What other myths would you like debunked?”
I hummed to myself, a hand on my chin as I began to think.
“Do… do werewolves have mates…?” I found myself asking quietly.
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Rhys:
I blinked at the question, surprised by it. “Well… Yes, we do. We pick a mate and then we keep that mate until they or we die. It’s both a blessing and a curse because most can’t move on after their mate has died.”
I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. So werewolves chose who to love. It wasn’t forced upon them. I was glad.
“I prefer the idea of werewolves choosing who to love than have it created for them,” I murmured. “It’s also a nice thought to always love someone for the rest of your life. Do you guys sense who is taken or not?”
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Rhys:
"Sort of… A wolf with a mate usually shares their mate's scent, so they smell like two wolves instead of one," I explained with a shrug. "And, yeah, I wouldn't like having my love forced upon me."
“So that’s one myth not false,” I smiled. “That reminds me of the Fey. They have one mate for life, and their scent is always mixed with their mate’s. Are you guys the only mythical creatures in existence, or are there more?”
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(I totally just made that at up. Lol. Though it would make sense with what I've read about wolves and cats and mates.)
Rhys:
I hummed curiously at the information she'd just given, slowly nodding. "Makes sense… And I don't know, honesty. If there are others, we don't know about them."
“I see,” the smell of food hit me even before I stepped in, and though Rhys had the enhanced hearing, I still hoped he couldn’t hear the war inside my stomach. I was starving, and I didn’t know why it was this bad. “This smells so good…”
It was an understatement. It smelled heavenly, and I could feel my mouth watering. I couldn’t wait to put food inside my mouth.
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Rhys:
I chuckled and walked over to the fridge, holding the double doors open for her. "Eat what you'd like. We have an abundance of food because of the shifting process."
