#trophic level | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heron-knight · 6 months ago

Text

The Wolf at the Door

finally, the moment I assume you've all been waiting for because I know my audience.

Really, that night was supposed to be perfect. All the paperwork sorted, nothing else needing to be done-- you’d been planning it for a few days. Put it off until the moon was full because you’d had work to do every evening before. A lot, actually, now that you think about it.

Over the last few months, there had been quite a noticeable increase in the number of people in town with badly injured pets. Never that bad, but enough to make you wonder if nearly half the dogs in a ten-mile radius had been getting into fights suddenly. You’d been suspecting that some animal had probably shown up in the forest. Something big, by the look of the injuries, but probably an obligate carnivore that wouldn’t waste any more energy than necessary fighting a dog. You may still have just been working as a veterinarian in a small town, but that ecology degree sure wasn’t going to waste. It didn’t really matter now, though, you could leave your work out of this. This was your night. Work finished, medications taken, and with no work tomorrow, it was time for a long evening in the woods. Just you, the forest, and the crisp, chill air of a clear night in late fall. Going over your inventory, it seemed like you were fully prepared-- enough layers to keep you warm until you really got moving, a light with plenty of battery that you planned to use as little as physically possible-- and with some deliberation, a small can of bear spray in case your theory of “obligate carnivore that wouldn’t waste energy on fighting a dog and by extension probably wouldn’t attack a human” wasn’t entirely correct.

Stepping out onto the porch, one breath of the night air was enough to remind you of why you’d gotten interested in your field in the first place. That intoxicating mystery of the dark. What was in it? What was the source of the sound of crunching leaves behind you as you stroll through the moonlit forest? A feeling like another you’d had before, but a bit less personal. Why’d you have to be born a creature that can’t see it? Human night vision is vastly limited even with time to adjust. You’d always taken every chance to stay out late, to spend long nights standing in a meadow clipping bands onto owls just to know the species composition of the symphony of nocturnal hunters that you’d spent evenings listening to ever since you had been old enough to stay awake that long. Those little discoveries, those moments in class and in your independent studies when you’d see all those points of data and it was almost like what you needed, almost like being able to raise an ear to the woods and have it speak to you in its language of adaptation and trophic webs-- those were almost as wonderful as your evening strolls, lungs filled with moonlight and heart pounding from sheer wonder as your pace quickened almost subconsciously into nearly a sprint, ignoring the trails and leaping over fallen trees, feeling like a part of this trophic pyramid, this hunt, even tinged with frustration at eyes that couldn’t see well enough to find prey in the dark and legs that wouldn’t be able to keep up with it anyway. When the sounds of the night fill your ears and adrenaline surges through your brain, there’s no more worrying. No more thinking about loans or applications or appointment scheduling or how much time they said visible results would take to show up. No more thinking about how best to bring up the subject of the name you had seen your contact saved under on your mother’s phone even though it hadn’t been yours for nearly four years now. A quick run through the night would always tear all your worries from your mind like teeth tearing into a fresh carcass. Besides, that night there had barely been anything to worry about. The weather was perfect, you knew on some level that she’d change it immediately if you asked, and the slight ache in your chest invited the sneaking suspicion that for once, the overall experience varying from person to person might work in your favor, and things might have been moving ahead of the projected schedule. This was going to be a good night. That is, until the next step sent you falling face-first onto the porch as your foot struck something soft but solid that seemed to-- recoil slightly as you tripped over it.

In the dim light of the porch, you could just barely see the dark shape that had interrupted your planned excursion. Curled in front of your door, breathing heavily through sharp teeth as the small but certainly alarming pool of blood in which it sat slowly increased in size. Your mind raced through all your experience and training as you stood, limped over to where the… creature… lay, and assessed the situation. Okay, we’ve got a… wolf, I think. There are no wolves in this area, haven’t been for centuries. No, I can worry about that later. It’s… hurt. Definitely. Looks like a big laceration along its side, multiple? From antlers, maybe? Okay, don’t panic… you’re trained for this. Okay… you went through your checklist. Okay, veterinary OR… don’t have one in my house. Patient sedated… no, but it probably can’t move anyway. I’d better stay away from those teeth, though. “Screw it!” you said out loud, reaching down and, with not insignificant difficulty, lifting the animal and carrying it into your house. Damn, this thing is huge. Countless papers and dishes hit the floor as you swept everything off the kitchen counter, ignoring the fact that you had definitely heard something shatter as you placed it carefully on top, then rushed into the bathroom and returned with as many towels as you could carry. The next few minutes were frantic-- rushing around the house, turning on as many lights as possible as you grabbed your personal medkit, as well as a few other things. This was far from an ideal setup, but your confidence was undeniable. Veterinary medicine was how you paid the bills. Wildlife rehabilitation was your passion. Besides, the first wolf in the state in around 200 years would be way too interesting to let die. Once everything was assembled, the kitchen was lit, and you’d taken a second to center yourself, you wasted no time in getting to work. Shave the area around the injury, clean the wound, stitch, disinfect, bandage-- all that was practically instinctual. No time to stop and wonder why the wolf was here of all places. It took a while, a not-insignificant number of stitches, and nearly all the bandages you’d had, but after some time your visitor was patched up, moved to the largest dog crate you could find, (though it still barely fit,) and seemed to be asleep but more or less alive. The satisfaction of a job well done, however, quickly faded as a glance around the room revealed the whole first floor of the house to be a mess of bloodsoaked towels, medical supplies, and all the things you’d thrown aside while tearing the place apart looking for said supplies, not to mention the bloodstains all over the carpet, most prominent from the door to the counter but by no means limited to there. Oh, and then there was the hair. As it turned out, when you shave off a large amount of an animal’s hair to have better access to the wounds and prevent infection, that hair has to go somewhere-- which, in this case, was everywhere, including and especially your favorite coat, which you had forgotten to remove once your plans for a moonlit stroll were interrupted, and was now soaked almost entirely through with blood and seemed to be the source of the stains on the carpet from the kitchen to the bathroom and other parts of the house. Exhausted, irritated, and with the adrenaline having mostly worn off, all you could really manage in response to that whole situation was a long sigh. Cleaning up the house could wait. Who cared if the blood started soaking into the carpet? Besides, you really needed a shower then.

It hadn’t really gotten into your hair at all, so washing off the blood didn’t take much of your attention. The main reason was that a bit of warm water was perfect for calming down and getting a bit more centered. As good a place as any to go over the facts.

There is a very large wolf in my house. I brought it into my house because… scientific interest. Okay, fine. I like wolves and wanted to help it. Sue me. It is in a crate that I really hope it is too tired to try and escape from, because there is no way it would hold.

There is a very large wolf in this state despite them being extinct in this part of the country for quite some time now, and I think if someone had managed to get them reintroduced to this area, I would have heard about it. Besides, that still wouldn’t explain why it’s so huge.

This very large wolf was injured, probably by a deer, and decided to, out of all the places it could have gone, lie down directly in front of my door. If this area actually did have a wolf population that survived the historical extermination attempts, then they would have to be very good at hiding from humans. This one seems to have actively sought human assistance.

After thinking for a moment, another realization hit. The wolf has seemed… off, somehow. You’re pretty sure it had extra toes, but you’d have to check to make sure. What exactly was up with this thing? This huge, wounded animal that had shown up, completely alone, in front of your door and despite not having lost a ton of blood, had really been a surprisingly cooperative patient. Something was definitely strange, but you did not have the energy to deal with it then, a glance at your phone as you were drying off with one of the last clean towels in the house revealing it to be 12:27. Maybe you had spent just a bit longer than you had realized staring at it as it lay in the crate. The decision to handle that whole situation in the morning was made nearly instantly, congratulating yourself on your decision to handle everything that needed to be done that night before the walk as you pulled on a robe and staggered into your room, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep much quicker than the average person with a wolf in their house would have.

Waking up that morning was a slow process as usual, sped up only slightly by the need to go check on the wolf downstairs. Luckily, you still had some spare dog food left over from when you had taken care of the neighbors' dog a few months back, and besides, it probably wouldn’t be particularly feeling like eating in its current state. That gave you a few handy excuses to stay in bed just a bit longer-- that is, until only a few minutes after you went back to sleep, you were woken up by the sound of the coffee maker downstairs. Several possibilities ran through your head, none of them entirely plausible, but when you hear someone or something using one of your kitchen appliances while being the only thing in the house besides a large wounded animal, plausibility tends to be the last thing on your mind. Okay, possibility one: there is someone in my house. I think I would have remembered if somebody had been over while… all that was happening last night, so someone must have broken into my house in the middle of the night, stayed until the sun came up, and… started making coffee. That theory was quickly discarded, as it made even less sense somehow than theory #2. Possibility two: somehow, despite numerous injuries, the wolf that was last night unable to even react when I was putting enough stitches in it to make a scarf has somehow broken out of the crate (without waking me up), and is now wandering around my house and must have bumped into the coffee maker and turned it on by accident. How exactly a wolf, even one nearly four feet tall at the shoulder, could turn on an appliance on the kitchen counter by accident, was not exactly taken into consideration. Even if it had somehow gotten up onto the counter, it required quite a bit of force to press the buttons. Both theories, though unlikely, were better than no theory at all, so both were kept in mind as you rummaged around in the pile of yesterday’s clothes for that can of bear spray you’d been planning to take on the walk. Whether it was the wolf or an intruder, going downstairs unarmed didn’t seem like the best idea.

The first thing you noticed upon glancing down the stairs was the hair. Yes, there had been quite a lot when you had gone to bed the previous night, but not this much. The kitchen wasn’t visible from the top of the stairs, but the coffee maker was still on. Where did all this hair come from? It practically coated the floor. At this point, you just had to see what was going on, descending the stairs as quietly as possible and pointing the bear spray in the direction of the noise, not sure what to expect… but whatever you might have been expecting, this wasn’t it. The can fell from your hand, landing with a thud on the carpet as she turned to face you. “Oh, hey… thanks.” she said as you stared, her voice sounding tired and weak. The person that stood in your kitchen, wrapped in one of your blankets and, judging from the lack of any footwear, probably nothing underneath it, reached a shaking hand out from under the blanket and picked up a mug of what… wasn’t exactly coffee, but was more just her attempt at it. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of the bandages wrapped around her midsection, seemingly applied quite expertly but tied at one end as if she’d… shrunk after they were applied, leaving them loose-fitting. The crate that you’d put the wolf into was unlatched, the door left open, and every inch of the cushions inside covered with a thick layer of shed fur. “Got any clothes?” your brain had simply ceased to function, all your concepts of causality and rational thought shattered due to the sheer lack of any possible explanation of how she’d ended up in your house… or where the wolf had gone.

“Who… I mean… why-- how are you here?” was all you could manage as your mind began to short-circuit for a number of reasons.

“You brought me here.” she said, taking a sip of her not-exactly-coffee and immediately regretting it. “Well… not like-- “here” as in the area, but like, into your house. That’s what I was thanking you for. You didn’t like… summon me or anything." She held up the mug. “I… is it supposed to taste like that? I’ve never actually had any before and I think I made it wrong.” slowly, you started to descend the staircase, walking through the piles of shed fur past the empty crate and into the kitchen. “Um… yeah. I-- I think you forgot to put a filter in the machine. That’s why it’s… wait, but you… how did…” she stared at you for a second, waiting for me to figure it out, even through the clear tiredness on her face, it was obviously visible that she was somewhat disappointed you hadn’t already realized. “Wait!” you shouted, all the puzzle pieces snapping together, but without much conscious certainty due to just how outside the box it was. “You… you were the wolf?” she grinned slightly, a sort of “now you’ve got it” expression as she turned back to the coffee machine and tried to get it to work.

“...right. “Werewolf,” “Lycan”, if you want to get scientific.... Whatever you want to call it. Now, I repeat m’ previous question about the clothes. Kind of freezing my knot off--”

“Then why are you walking around right now?” she was completely caught off guard by the fact that out of all the questions you could have asked, that was the one you started with. The worldview-shattering revelations of the nature of biology itself could wait. Your work wasn’t done. She didn’t try to argue as you led her over to the couch, the conversation having paused completely until she was lying down and you had made completely sure that she understood that she wasn’t supposed to get up again, then rushed off momentarily to get what medical supplies you hadn’t used the previous night.

“You’re handling this information surprisingly well.” she mumbled in between sips of the coffee that you had made as you carefully moved aside the blanket, unwrapping the bandages and sighing with relief upon seeing that not only had that bit of movement not damaged the stitches, but also however her transformation worked, it had kept them in the correct places. The medkit was put back on the shelf, and the bandages were cut into a length that fit her current form better. “Most people freak out.”

“Well,” you said, bringing over a second blanket and placing it on top of her, “that’s a disheartening number of people’s reaction to me, so… I kind of get it.”

“Oh! You’re also…”

“Huh? No, I’m trans. Didn’t know werewolves were real until a few minutes ago.” she chuckled softly for a moment.

“That was what I meant. So am I.” you both laughed for a minute, (her with some difficulty, but with enough volume to reassure you that her lungs weren’t damaged.) “But similarities aside, usually werewolves turning out to be real takes a bit longer than that to process.”

“You’re my patient.” you said firmly. “Top priority was making sure you didn’t get hurt. Second priority, which is what I can focus on now, is figuring out all the werewolf stuff.” she pondered this for a bit, then spoke.

“Okay… so, what’s your first question?”

“How did it happen?”

“So, Lycanthropy isn’t exactly… well-known. Real lycanthropy, I mean. They don’t teach you about it in school, or anything. However… As it turns out, we’re pretty good for the ecosystem. We fill a niche that’s been empty for a while, keep the deer population under control… so if you know where to look, sometimes you can find an organization that can turn you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it sucks. The process, I mean, not the lycanthropy. Ten layers of bureaucracy in between you and actually scheduling your appointment, the crazy long wait time once you’ve actually got it scheduled, all the forms of ID you need to bring in case something goes wrong and they need to identify who it was that just ran into the forest never to be seen again… the actual initial turning isn’t as bad as all the warnings they make you read make it look,” she lowered the blanket around her shoulders, revealing a sizable bite scar. “But it’s not exactly a walk in the park, pun intended. It’s definitely worth it though, if turning is what you needed.” she didn’t seem to notice that you had been silent for a while, lost in thought. “Anyway, I’ve been doing pretty well ever since. It feels amazing, going out on a hunt when the weather’s nice. Can’t exactly go into detail on how it feels without getting a little weird, but I think you’d get it.”

“I think I do.” you said, “but… you should probably rest for a bit. We can pick up on this conversation later.” she nodded and shifted her position slightly. “Hey! Don’t scratch that!”

One implied threat involving a cone later, you made your way back up the stairs. Even if there were plenty of parallels, processing all that information did take some time. “There is a werewolf on my couch” was one thing, but there was something about that whole exchange that made your mind race and your heart pound. Some reason beyond the surprise, beyond the shock to what you had previously believed, beyond the whole excitement of the encounter, hell, beyond even the fact that even though you hadn’t been consciously paying attention at the moment, you were pretty sure that your legs had started shaking when she’d said the word knot, an aspect of the whole encounter expanded on by the fact that it seemed werewolves did not carry their clothes with them when shifted. No, it was more than just that. Some part of it, some sneaking suspicion that prowled in the back of your mind, clawing like an animal in a cage at the walls of your subconscious, a desire you’d had. One you’d abandoned long ago because you’d thought that life didn’t work like that. An offhand daydream that now filled your mind with one suspicion, one question, now to nobody but yourself-- is it really that easy? Does it really work that well? That question you hadn’t let yourself ask for so long, ignored every time because it hurt to think about when your answer had been no. but… maybe. For now, it stayed as it had been. A sneaking suspicion, but now stronger. Maybe your previous answer was wrong.

Your patient, for the most part, did quite well over the next few weeks-- stayed on the couch, had plenty of appetite, and only whined a little bit when you changed the bandages-- you’d even managed to find some spare clothes for her, though you had to search a bit for some shirts that wouldn’t get stretched. Either lycanthropy made HRT more effective, or she’d been on it for way longer than you had. Only real challenge was that she tended to get lonely. You tried to keep things professional at first, of course, talking to her in your “speaking-to-clients” voice, and offering to move her to the couch in your office for a little extra privacy, but with just how frequently she’d asked you to watch movies with her or wait to make a request until you were just about to leave the house, you’d quickly realized that being professional was not at all what she needed. Even though she knew that she was going to be stuck on the couch for a while, even though she was supposed to just be your patient, all she really wanted was to just be seen as a roommate. You could tell in the way she tried to make small talk whenever you walked past-- how excited she always got when you found something to talk about. Screw “keeping things professional.” She needs someone to talk to.

“Wait…” she said one day as you prepared to make a trip to the store. “Can you get me--”

“You can just say that you want me to stay for a bit longer” the statement caught both of you off guard, a small comment half out of frustration and half out of hope that she’d take you up on the offer. The room was silent for a second.

“Please?” she asked. Slowly, you walked over to the couch, sitting down on one end of it as she moved her legs out of the way. “I… so, you’ve…” she stammered, moving slightly until she was up against the back of the couch and clutching her pillow. “I was wondering--” with a sigh, you removed your coat, tossing it onto the coffee table and interrupting her request by fulfilling it. She exclaimed softly as you flopped down onto the couch next to her. Gingerly, she moved one hand up, out from under the blanket and placed it in yours. You could feel yourself start to blush as the two of you laced your fingers together, her hand slightly colder than yours but warming up quickly. It was nice-- a sort of soft, quiet confirmation, slowly expanded as you wrapped your arms around each other and you were pulled into a tight embrace.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” you murmured as she held you, starting to… tremble slightly as you moved your hand in slow, gentle circles along her back. She was surprisingly strong for someone so injured, holding on so tight that you were pretty sure you couldn’t leave if you’d tried. “You’re… really touch-starved, aren’t you.” she nodded. One thing was certain, she had definitely needed this.

After a minute her hands started to wander, tracing along your arms to all over your upper body, an exploration driven by the desire to know you, to memorize your shape, your scent, your warmth. Just thinking about it, that way she explored, immersing herself in a thousand sensations-- mapping out every part of you with a full sensory profile-- just that feeling was on a completely different level from and of the other times you’d spent a quiet afternoon with someone in this way. That she could understand. It honestly left you envious. How could someone be able to know anything like this? To learn of it in every aspect, the full complexity of something all laid out before them, that near-omniscience that you had searched for in every ecology class, every late night spent listening to the sounds of the forest, every time you had sprinted through the woods on a moonlit evening-- to just breathe deeply and find the truth of it, the nature of it. Beyond your limited human senses, looking down from the top of the trophic pyramid freely.

“...thanks.” she said, letting her hands rest gently on the sides of your face. “Can I… tell you something?” of course. Of course she could. “I’m just-- feeling really alone. I’m… the only one in the state. Had to drive really far to be turned, even. that’s-- that’s not how it’s supposed to be. We’re not solitary creatures.”

“Lycans?”

“People.” she curled forward slightly, pressing her forehead into your collarbone. “Lycans, yes, but also just people. Running through the forest, being able to taste the entirety of nature in a single breath-- it’s amazing, but I… I don’t want to have to do it alone, it’s--” slowly, she relaxed her grip, looking up to face you. “It’s still kind of scary, going into the forest at night. It’s huge, wonderful, delicious, but… the first step out the door is still hard to make. I get scared, out there in the woods. I get scared and then-- and then I can’t shift right and I get slowed down and I get hurt." In her voice, you could just barely hear that tiredness that had been there when she had first arrived at your house, the exhaustion of being afraid, permeating through every other aspect of the words-- the sadness, the hope, even the fear itself. She was silent for a second, then leaned in, her face inches, then centimeters from your shoulder until finally she was close enough that you could feel the movement of her lips as she spoke. “May I?” yes. Please. Do it. That feeling, that warmth as you felt that gentle pressure moving across the side of your neck was enough to make your face feel hot, gasping softly as the kiss traveled upwards towards your face, tight and precise as you first felt it on your collarbone but gradually relaxing until you could feel her tongue running along your throat. Could she feel with her lips how fast your heart was pounding? Could she taste it? There was no possible chance of keeping hold of conscious thought as the flood of sensation rushed through your brain, just the desire was left, just the need for this to keep going. No way to contain the sounds that escaped as she bit down gently on your ear. You didn’t need to contain them anyway.

“Am I doing good?” she asked playfully before sliding a hand around to the back of your head, pulling you closer again and putting your lips to hers. You couldn’t respond, of course, even if anything but moans could come out of your mouth at this point, you couldn’t say anything as the kiss deepened until your saliva was dripping down the side of your face onto the couch. You got your answer across just fine with how much your legs shook, though-- how tightly you squeezed her shoulder as you felt her other hand brush against your thigh.

Eventually she pulled back, a single tendril of saliva between your blushing faces. You let out a quiet whine. She had stopped just when things were about to speed up.

“We should… probably wait a bit.” she said. “Full disclosure, sometimes I transform accidentally if I get too excited, and… well, I don’t want to tear these clothes you let me borrow, and you said no shifting until I’m fully healed.”

“Yeah…” you replied disappointedly, slowly starting to cool down slightly. “You’re right. Don’t want to mess up the bandages.” you were both silent for a minute. “But… just wondering… would you have to stop if that happened?” she leaned forward again.

“That’s entirely up to you.” she whispered into your ear. Gradually, you sat up, making sure to keep holding onto her hand as you moved until her head was resting on your lap. You could feel your heartbeat and hers slow down, no longer as frantic as they had just been, leaving only a gentle sort of warmth that you could feel spreading from your fingertips throughout your body as you began to pet her head. You had one question, one request, that you needed to make. You decided to wait until she was in a state to fulfill it to ask.

You’d suspected that your guest-- no, your roommate, healed a bit faster than average from the fact that she had been able to walk around (probably shouldn’t have, though) immediately after waking up on the first morning, but this suspicion was quickly confirmed as one day while changing the bandages you had noticed that one of the wounds had closed completely. Maybe it was the lycanthropy, maybe the injuries were never as bad as you had thought they were, or maybe some combination of the two plus the fact that she had something to look forward to once she was completely healed. Whatever the reason, the stitches were out barely a month after you’d put them in and almost immediately afterwards, it had gone from her not being allowed to walk to you not being able to for half the day. You’d thought about it for quite some time, of course-- long before you’d even known that werewolves were real-- but fantasizing about it was simply not on the same level as actually feeling the muscles and bones inside the hand that was holding onto your shoulder twist and snap, nails growing into claws as she shifted halfway through, each sensation changing slightly-- hearing the hot breath against the back of your neck turn to canine panting, feeling as newly sprouted fur brushed back and forth against your skin with each movement-- and then that moment after as she changes back, looking at you expectantly with that expression on her face that could not possibly better convey the question of “did I do good?”, waiting eagerly for you to regain your senses enough to answer. Every moment was laced with that question, the one that had gnawed at the edges of your mind since the first morning-- that desire to keep up, to be on her level, that envy for lack of a better word. At the moment, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat like a chew toy at best, not that you particularly minded. Those weeks and eventually months after she had healed were by far some of the best in your life, understanding what she had meant as your long walks at night became better with company. It still felt like just a walk. She couldn’t exactly hunt that effectively with your human footsteps making so much noise, but she had said it was fine. It didn't feel fine, though, not for lack of the excursions’ quality, but because watching her run circles around you in the moonlight, ducking under low branches and weaving through the trees as if she was swimming through the forest reminded you of what you weren’t.

Or rather, what you weren’t yet.

“Can I ask you for something?” you said one day as you returned from a morning walk. “It’s… I’m not entirely sure if you could, and I’m definitely not sure that it’s entirely legal, but…” She leapt onto the couch, landing in human form and looking at you, confused but intrigued. You took a deep breath, then asked, the question tearing through its cage into your conscious mind as the words formed on your tongue after too long spent waiting to be said. It felt good to finally say them. She smiled when she heard it, as if she had been waiting for you to ask-- hoping that you would finally request that she do this for you. Four words-- that’s all it was. Four words were all you needed. Described all you needed. Compressed that desire, that need to know the nature of the forest, to know her-- all into one question.

“Can you turn me?”

She grinned, standing and walking towards you before suddenly pulling you close and kissing you. Over the time you’d known her, you’d learned that kisses could say things-- so much potential for all sorts of emotions to be woven into the passion. You could read this one clearly in the warm, gentle sigh right before contact, the sense of relief felt in every moment of it, that slight hunger to it--

“Of course~” she said, her face still inches from yours. “I could do it tonight, if you want… I’ll need to prepare you a bit for it-- your room as well. It’s quite an… Involved process.” you nodded, almost frantically, your heart pounding in anticipation. “Good!” she reached up and patted you on the head. “Can’t wait.” She turned and walked up the stairs to your room, pulling the blankets from your bed and piling them in the corner.

“You didn’t seem surprised when I asked.” you stated as you followed close behind, helping set up your room as she directed.

“Oh, please.” she tossed the towels she had just retrieved onto the now-empty bed and slid over to you, placing a hand on your chin and staring directly into your eyes. That look on her face made you wonder if she was about to sink her teeth into you then and there. “In all that time I’ve been a werewolf-- hell, in all the time I’ve known they existed and probably even before then-- I have never seen anyone who needed this more than you. I could tell from the way you asked how I became like this.” your face had immediately turned bright red. At first, you had thought that part of the excitement of this relationship was in some part due to the novelty, but that notion was quickly disproven as the days turned to weeks and her ability to set your heart pounding with just a few words had not diminished at all. The two of you continued to prepare the room, removing any breakable objects from it as well as “anything you don’t want getting stained.” she wasn’t exactly specific, but while she said that your posters probably wouldn’t be at risk, it was probably best to take them down temporarily, as apparently you could never tell for sure what might be in the “splash zone.” an average person likely would have been somewhat put off by the vagueness or lack thereof of what exactly the experience would entail, but an average person probably wouldn’t have invited a werewolf into their house, and definitely wouldn’t have upgraded the nature of that invitation upon deeming said werewolf healed up enough to accept. The average person didn’t need this like you did, though. Like both of you did. They didn’t feel that frustration, stuck between barely seeing anything and seeing nothing beyond the range of some horrible light as the only means of experiencing the dark. They didn’t feel the need to breathe in the cold night air like you did, to tear into the nature of things, cracking open bones to drink the truth of the forest from inside. They did not care about the question of “what am I?” and even if they did, they did not come to the conclusion of “not this. No, I am more. Should be more. I’ve been working on it, but I’m not done yet.”

You shivered slightly as you felt the cold air on your skin, your cheapest towels feeling itchy against your legs as you knelt in the center of the bed, arms by your sides. All you’d been able to do was wait once you’d finished setting up the room. You couldn’t focus on anything else with what you knew would happen in just a few hours, and once the sun had gone down you’d practically rushed through the final preparations-- open all the doors from the porch to your room, make sure you were only wearing clothes that you were okay with being shredded, which did not describe any clothes you owned. You regretted your decision to not find any sacrificial clothing slightly, not expecting how chilly you would get, but apparently once it started, you’d be heating up really fast and would probably just be out of them pretty soon anyway. The room was dark, with the only light coming from the moon through the window. you stared at it absentmindedly.

“So… what are the towels for?” you asked as she paced around, performing a few final checks and making sure said towels covered the mattress completely. You had been so caught up in the excitement of anticipation that you hadn’t quite asked that much about what exactly the process would entail, not that anything anyone would have said could possibly have stopped you from wanting to do this. She reached over, gently lifting your arm and running a single finger from your shoulder down to your hand.

“This process isn’t any more clean than it is painless.” she said, moving her hand back up and lightly squeezing different parts of your arm and shoulder, as if trying to find the softest part. “When I had it done, I ended up bleeding from my pores. All over. Bones might end up breaking the skin too, but it’ll heal in a few minutes, and next time you shift everything will know exactly where to go.” it felt nice, somehow-- hearing that last part.-- “next time you shift.” you weren’t just hearing her talk about it now. Now you were part of it-- this side, this aspect of the world. You hadn’t even noticed how separate you had felt from it before, how separate even from the concept of yourself you had been. This is who I am. It was almost strange to think about how meaningless to you the word “I” had been until now-- like snapping out of a daydream, only this was you reentering the present-- your sense of self coming back into focus with your consciousness-- for the first time. The air seemed much more crisp already as you leaned back and she began to gently probe your chest and stomach, one of which was already feeling slightly sore from your other journey towards gaining a body that is truly your own, (which you were quite proud of your recent progress in, though the clothes you’d just bought to compliment it were currently lying in the hallway) and the other because on her suggestion, you’d skipped dinner. “We’ll be finding ourselves some dinner out tonight.” she had said earlier.

You sat up, returning to your kneeling position as she stepped back and leaned forward into a deep stretch before pulling off her shirt and tossing it into the hallway. “Ready?” you asked excitedly. She gave a short nod. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, letting your arms rest limply at your sides again, relaxing every muscle as much as you could as she gently patted your head.

“It’s going to hurt.” she said. “But also… so does everything else, really. No avoiding it if you want to live any real life. Believe me, it’s not easy to take the first step off the porch, and that gets more true the darker the forest is. Yeah, parts of it will suck. Parts of it will make you feel like you’re getting torn apart and that you can’t be sure of anything. Hell, parts of it might make you regret it for a second-- make you think that it wasn’t worth it.” she let out a brief sigh before continuing. “But just remember…” you felt her hand slide down from the top of your head to the side of your face and opened your eyes just a bit to see her staring intensely. “That you’re alive, and all that it entails. Things hurt. Things change. You lose people and you find others. Sometimes it's so dark that you wouldn’t be able to see anything without changing, and sometimes you might find one night that you’ve changed and now you can see the whole forest clearer than ever. It’s going to hurt, but… every second is going to feel amazing.” in the dim light, you could see that she was crying slightly. “That’s-- that’s what it is to be alive. That’s what it means to be you. To finally become yourself. The sheer exhilaration of change. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt, and sometimes there’s been pain along the way, but don’t let anyone tell you it’s not worth it.” she took a deep breath before stepping back once more. “Alright, that’s enough hype. Let’s do this.” You could see a soft smile on her face before you closed your eyes again, focusing on your breathing as you heard the familiar sound of flesh and bones twisting and warping in front of the bed before that heavy thud as paws hit the ground. Then, from where she stood came a long howl. The sound of it carried that same excitement as you had felt on every long night, every moonlit walk, the same anticipation as you’d had that night, just about to leave the house right before the encounter that changed your perception of what you were allowed to be.

Your heart almost skipped a beat as the large shape before you lept from the floor and landed heavily on the bed in front of you, nearly pitching you forward as her weight pressed into the mattress. You could feel each step she took towards you, one foot, then the other, then the other, then the other until finally you could feel the heat of her breath and the pressure of her front leg on your thigh, claws digging into your skin sightly as she leaned in close enough to taste you. The anticipation was far more excruciating. You flinched as you felt a cold, wet nose against your chest, stationary for a moment before beginning to travel, exploring every inch of you with each inhalation. You knew that she’d already decided on where to bite. Same place she’d had it, same place every voluntary lycan probably had it. Maybe she was just teasing a bit, knowing how it made you blush whenever she explored you like this-- how much it set your heart pounding just thinking about how close her teeth and tongue were to your skin. That, or maybe she was just taking in your pre-turning scent one last time as a sort of “before picture” so that she could see afterwards how much you’d evolved. Finally, you felt as she moved up, standing at her full height over you as you trembled with anticipation, adrenaline, and who knows what else, opening her mouth and running that huge tongue across your collarbone, saliva coating your shoulder and dripping down onto your legs. Focus on your breathing. There wasn’t anything else to do, really, as she leaned forward and gently but hungrily slid her jaws over your shoulder, making sure everything was lined up perfectly, shifting slightly to right between your shoulder and your neck. You could feel the slight pressure of each tooth against your skin, just light enough at first to let you know where they were, where they were going to pierce. She was large enough when shifted that the front teeth on her upper jaw were almost below your shoulder blade.

Slowly, the pressure increased, gradually enough to give you time to take a deep breath first, to grip the towels you sat on so tightly that your knuckles turned white as she began to bite down, feeling it start to hurt, barely noticeable at first but but increasing in intensity until you had to grit your teeth. The seconds seemed to last forever as you waited.

It didn’t hurt as much as you’d expected as you felt each tooth sink into you, waves of pain shooting through your entire body as they pierced through skin and fat until they dug between the fibers of your muscles themselves. They punctured through soft and yielding flesh seemingly one by one, the longer ones first, sinking deeper into you with every other tooth that broke the skin until you felt molars scraping directly against your collarbone, threatening to snap it in two. It was only half a second of that intense pain until you felt it-- that other feeling, seeping into your shoulder gradually at first, almost indistinguishable from the warmth of the blood starting to ooze from around each still-embedded tooth. Not pain, not numbness-- clarity. You could feel the texture of her teeth through the pain, her saliva soaking into your bloodstream, even the wind on your skin you could feel more clearly than ever before. Another half second passed, then it accelerated, that feeling surging through you, setting every nerve on fire with the sheer amount of sensation that ran through them. It felt like you never felt anything before then, like all your senses had been dulled for your entire life up until that moment. Not the first time you’d felt something like this, but definitely the most intense. You threw back your head and let out a sound halfway between a moan and a scream, your brain filling with so much of this feeling that you could barely even think about the pain.

The feeling soon passed, not gone but settled, as if it had simply soaked into you. You could still feel it, but not as intensely as when it had flooded through you just a second earlier. Gently, she relaxed her hold on you, teeth sliding out of your flesh as blood began to flow from the wounds, running down your body in rivulets and onto the towels. She gingerly ran her tongue along the bite mark, licking off the blood as much as she could as she shifted slowly until it was the lips of her human form that you felt.

“You can open your eyes now.” she said. The moonlight seemed so bright even through your eyelids now, you’d almost forgotten they were closed. She smiled warmly at you, mouth still stained red. “You did really good. How did it feel?” you struggled for a second to remember how to speak.

“...amazing.” you stammered. You couldn’t even begin to describe it, that way your mind had filled with so much of your senses that your consciousness had barely been able to keep up. Your hands were shaking slightly as you reached up to wipe the blood from her face, almost recoiling when you felt how intensely you were now able to feel the warmth of her skin. She patted your head.

“I knew you’d enjoy it. Can you still feel it?” you nodded. “Is it starting to heat up yet?” as you concentrated, you could feel the warmth around the bite starting to intensify. It spread through your body more slowly than that feeling had, a simple increase in temperature as your body detected something that it didn’t want there. Each muscle seemed to tighten until you could barely move your shoulder and the knowledge that something was happening began to seep into the back of your mind. You nodded again, and she seemed almost surprised. “It’s starting already?” she said as she reached behind you and straightened the towels on the mattress. “Wow, okay… thought you’d have a bit more time to catch your breath, but… just lie back. The more hands-on part’s done. You can let your body take it from here.”

With her help you managed to lie down, the wounds on your back sticking uncomfortably to the towels as your shoulder started to feel painfully hot. She leaned over you and stared directly into your eyes before she spoke.

“The initial shift’s about to happen.” she whispered, squeezing your hand. “I can’t really say for certain what it’ll be like for you, but… I think you’re going to do great and it’s going to feel great. I’m here if you need me.” you looked up at her and smiled.

“I really wish I’d known you back when I was starting my transition.” you said. “Would have been a lot easier.”

Slowly, a dull ache began to permeate through you, starting in each joint and spreading quickly outward until every part of you felt sore and tender. You wanted to stretch, but somehow you already knew that it wouldn’t help. This part is just going to suck for a bit. The pain didn’t turn sharp immediately-- It didn’t instantly give way to the twisting and snapping you’d seen in each of her transformations-- it just got louder as you curled up as tightly as you could, trying to keep your focus on the sensation of her fingers gently pressing into your back, providing some small relief from the soreness. She knew what this felt like. The pain never seemed to reach your mind, though. It didn’t cloud your thoughts like you’d initially expected it to. When you’d first felt it creeping into your muscles, you’d thought that it would only be a few minutes before you were a quivering mess, unable to concentrate on anything but how much it hurt, but… you didn’t give it the satisfaction. Even as it started to get so bad that you began to toss and turn, whimpering almost involuntarily as your whole body felt like it was filled with needles, it never felt to you like anything more than an annoyance. Yeah, it hurt. Like no cramp or pulled muscle ever had before, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because this wasn’t just pain. There was a reason for it, one that you agreed with so you didn’t care if there was a bit of soreness in the way. You sat up and hugged her tightly. So what if it hurts. You thought. It’s worth it, because even if I- WAIT, WHAT THE-- you fell backwards as you felt it, that sudden jolt that surged through you, muscles twitching as it hit. You heart was pounding, mind racing, entire body shaking as you felt things begin to move beneath you skin. The warmup was over. It was time for the main event.

As the sounds of the night began to come alive just outside the window, every part of you felt like it was folding in on itself and it felt wonderful, each breath sending a pulse of elation though you as your ribs started to warp. What had you expected? Did it even matter? No. no it did not, because nothing your before-self could have imagined could ever compare. Could not compare to the feeling of muscles severing and reattaching themselves, of the flesh of your fingers fusing together as dead skin fell from your fingertips, new cells coating them with a rough paw pad, of the structure of your jaw snapping under the sheer force of its own growth before being pulled back together as your teeth began to lengthen. Nothing could compare to just how alive it made you feel. Each second felt more right than the last, each bone setting itself into its new position feeling like it was always meant to go there, skin itching right up until the moment that fur began to sprout from it-- and something else. Something that you felt as strongly as any physical change, racing freely through both your body and mind as each second twisted them together until there was barely any distinction between the two. Something that you could hear even as your ears moved from their former positions to the top of your gradually elongating skull. Something you tried to put into words, but all that came out was a howl that expressed it better than any language ever could have.

It’s you. Finally, all of it-- all of yourself. It’s you.

The moonlight tasted clearer on the tongue of what you were than the human you would have died as otherwise, each breath carrying a symphony of scents. The night itself seemed to be what drifted up from the open door downstairs, everything you’d stayed up late pondering now as tangible to you as the floor beneath your feet as you rose shakily from the bed, fur soaked with your own blood and tail wagging like it was the first time you’d ever actually been able to express happiness. She followed shortly after, leaping from the bed with two legs and landing with four, circling around you excitedly. You laid down for a second, letting her explore you as she’d done dozens of times before, licking the blood off half just to know what you tasted like now.

You rose to your feet and together, descended the staircase and stepped out onto the porch. You’d never thought of the night as empty. Cold, yes-- painfully out of reach, but not empty. Content with the knowledge that it was alive, even if you couldn’t see it. You had thought you were content with it, at least. Feeling the night like this now, every sense telling you all the information that was now within reach, leaping from the porch and sprinting with her into the forest made you realize retroactively that just knowing what you were missing was not enough.The euphoria that came from that night, running through the dark in which you could now see, being a part of it, was as wonderful as the first time you’d worn clothes that made you realize the meaning of the word. Singing in long, single notes that could be heard for miles, no longer simply pondering the mysteries of the forest at night but being one of them. A sound in the symphony for all to hear. For others to ponder themselves and maybe, just maybe, to follow if they allowed themselves to open the door.

#creative writing #short story #writing #werewolf #trans #Heron knight’s writing

186 notes · View notes