Worries of a First-time Werewolf by Oridian

Worries of a First-time Werewolf

Oridian, Action, Adventure, Battle, Creampie, Doggystyle, Feral, Fight, Hunt, Knot, Lupine, Lycanthrope, M/F, Magic, Magician, Male/Female, Mating, Predator/Prey, Quadruped, Tie, Tied, Transformation, Werewolf, Wolf, Wolfess, chase, combat

What's an apprentice magician to do when he discovers he is a werewolf?

What's an apprentice magician to do when he discovers he is a werewolf? In Graham's case, he goes to the nearby forest to wait out his first transformation, but his exile is not to be had alone. Every wolf needs a pack.

48.281 words

"Hey, Graham, are you alright?"

"You're a damn werewolf?!! Exeleron!"

Graham had been trying to massage a cramp out of his right wrist when suddenly a blast of energy slammed into his chest, forcefully throwing him backwards. Snow had been falling earlier, so the layer of powdery snow on the ground as well as his thick winter overcoat provided some cushioning as he went flying off the gravel pathway.

Two other young adults had been walking with him--both of them were his friends, and both of them were also senior apprentices at the academy. Cray rushed over to his side. "Woah, what--?"

"Don't go near him!" Lilly was holding her wand and pointing it right towards Graham. Colourful sparks of residual magic swirled around the tip of that thin metal rod, before dissipating in an instant. "Cray, get back!" Lilly gestured again with her wand, and Cray hurriedly stumbled backwards.

"Oww." Still holding his right wrist with his left hand, Graham stared incredulously up at his friends. His shocked look focused particularly on Lilly--she was a short, clever woman who was normally friendly and always smiling, but now her wand was pointed right at him in a clear threat. "Did you just blast me?" Graham groaned.

Cray glanced between the other two confusedly. "What? What's going on?"

Lilly's eyes darted around, looking to see if there was anyone else nearby, but they were all alone in this part of the campus. The three of them had been walking back to one of the academy's dormitory halls where they shared an apartment flat, after having finished semester examinations in the morning. Holding tightly to her wand, Lilly looked nervous but her voice was calm. "I think Graham's a werewolf. Look at his hand. He's shifting!"

The ridiculousness of this idea made Graham guffaw. "Pahaha. What?! What are you talking about?" he demanded. "It was just a muscle cramp in my wrist. I had back-to-back essay tests this morning, and I've been writing nonstop. It's ridiculous to... to say... uh..." His voice trailed off as he glanced down and got a good look at his own hand. Whereas his left hand was still covered by a winter glove, he had earlier taken off his other glove, which let them all see that his right hand was different. His muscles were cramped up and his hand was half tightened into a fist, but that was the least of the problems. Graham could clearly see his fingers starting to shift and distort, with nails lengthening and becoming short black claws. At the same time, the thin, barely noticeable body hair over the back of his hand was darkening and thickening until it resembled a patch of grey fur. It was such an odd sight that Graham didn't even panic--he just frowned at his own right hand, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. "How unusual. That... is not normal," he muttered, which was quite an understatement.

"Oh. Oh, damn!" Cray hurriedly searched through his cloak, before reaching into his sling bag to snatch out his own wand. He joined Lilly in pointing his wand at Graham, though his hands were noticeably less stable than hers. "You're a werewolf? Really?!"

Graham shook his head, even as he clutched his wrist with his other hand. "I'm not a werewolf. Don't be absurd."

"It sure looks like you're a werewolf!" Cray gesticulated with his wand and his other hand, pointing to Graham's hand, which now half resembled an animal paw. "May the high emperor preserve us. Graham's a werewolf! This is unbelievable. We've been friends for years now and you never told me about that?" Cray glanced at Lilly. "This means we've been roommates with a werewolf this whole last year, but I never realized?"

"I'm not a werewolf!" Graham insisted, despite all evidence to the contrary. "This must be... some sort of curse or illusion spell? Maybe a leftover from one of the practical examinations over the last week?"

Lilly was unconvinced. "No, I'm reasonably certain that's a lycanthrope transformation. In my arcane zoology class, we once had a werewolf as a guest lecturer, and he transformed as a demonstration. It made everyone very nervous."

Cray's eyes lit up. "Ah, I remember you telling us about that. It sounded cool."

Lilly let out a soft, dismissive noise. "Eh? Cool? It was a terrifying experience, seeing an ordinary person transform into this strange, huge, wolf beast creature. And when it started, it looked just like what's happening to Graham, except... that was controlled."

"But that's impossible because I'm not a werewolf," Graham repeated. He tried to get up, but all his muscles felt weak, and his sense of balance was off. Still lying in the snow-covered grass, he managed to sit up. "Why are you two pointing your wands at me?"

Cray shrugged, and he lowered his wand. "I'm just following Lilly."

Lilly's steely grip on her own wand didn't waver. "Graham, if you're transforming involuntarily, we can't assume you'll still have full control over yourself while in an altered state. I don't want to be bitten or mauled by some crazy, out-of-control werewolf who's been keeping secrets from his friends."

"I haven't been keeping secrets. I'm not crazy, I'm not out-of-control, and I'm not a werewolf," Graham insisted. "I don't know what this is, but it's not a werewolf transformation. It's just... It is a problem, whatever this is." The abnormality had started at his wrist, but now his whole hand looked altered and strange. The tension and energy within his hand was now starting to slowly spread up his arm. Pulling back the sleeve of his shirt and winter coat revealed the effect moving up his arm in a gradual wave, altering muscles and bone while turning hair into white-grey fur. "Can I get some help, please?"

Lilly and Cray both glanced at each other, then finally Lilly lowered her wand and she slipped her backpack off her shoulder. From her pack she pulled out a silvery metal ring, about the size to fit over a wrist, and tossed it towards Graham. "Here. This bracelet is telanium-silver alloy. I use it to help focus my spellcasting. It should act as aether flux sink and suppress a magical transformation like a lycanthrope shift."

Graham managed to catch the metal bracelet with his left hand, and even through his glove he felt a tingle through his whole body from proximity to the shiny grey metal. Dense, complicated magical runes were etched into the bracelet to help it focus a magician's power. The thick fur now covering his right hand made it hard to pull the bracelet on, but immediately the runes on the bracelet started to glow as the metal touched his exposed flesh, and the tingly sensation intensified vastly at the point of contact. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, but more like an intense itch or tickle. The inner energy spreading across his body calmed down and faded back into the background, and over the course of a dozen more seconds the transformation reversed itself. Claws became nails again, and Graham breathed a soft sigh of relief as the fur faded away into nothing, with the proportions of his arm and fingers shifting back to normal. Meanwhile the bracelet had started to glow bright white, with not just the runes but the metal itself shining with energy.

Graham experimentally opened and closed his hand a few times. "That was strange."

"You're telling us?!" Cray retorted. Strolling forward, he offered a hand to Graham and helped pull his friend back onto his feet. "So, you're ok now?"

"Thanks. It's... it's stopped now. I think I'm back to normal." Graham tried taking the telanium-silver alloy bracelet off, but immediately energy rushed up his arm and his muscles starting seizing. "Oh no." Hurriedly he pulled the bracelet back over his right hand just as fur was beginning to reappear over his skin, which fortunately again reversed the process. "Is this some sort of advanced curse spell?"

Lilly still looked uneasy, and she continued holding tight onto her wand, ready to cast more spells at her fellow apprentice magician. "A curse? No, you're obviously undergoing a lycan transform. That must be it. An illusion or curse spell would be cancelled out by tel-silver, not just temporarily suppressed. The amount of energy needed to alter a body form is tremendous, and the fact that you start transforming once you stop touching the alloy means something is continuously providing that energy." Lilly glanced around. The three apprentice mages were standing on a gravel path scattered with salt to melt snow and ice, and even the closest buildings were a good way off. "I'm not doing anything to you, and neither is Cray, so the transformation is originating from you. You're a werewolf. Your body is trying to shift into its other, wolf form."

Graham didn't like this conclusion. It made sense from everything the academy had taught them about magic, but on the other hand, it made no sense because he was just a normal person. He couldn't come up with any counterpoints other than a flat denial. "But I'm not a werewolf."

Neither of his friends seemed convinced. Cray looked thoughtful, then he stepped behind Graham and helped brush the snow off his friend's coat. Cray also helped to pick up Graham's winter cap and his right glove, which he passed back to him. "Now what? Should we take you to the infirmary?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea. What if seeing an injured person triggers some... some hidden werewolf predator instinct and he goes savage?" Lilly said.

"I'm not a werewolf!" Graham insisted. "You two have known me for years--I'm not crazy, or savage, or anything. How come you don't believe me?"

"Graham, to be honest, I don't know what to believe." Lilly pointed at Graham's hand, and to the telanium-silver bracelet. "That's a lycan shift, barely being suppressed by that enchanted bracelet. The way I see it, there are two possibilities." She raised a finger. "The first possibility is that you've secretly been a werewolf all along and you somehow hid it from us, except now for whatever reason you're losing control." Lilly raised a second finger. "Second possibility is that you truly didn't know you are a werewolf, and you're transforming for the first time. In both cases you are not in control of yourself."

Graham pulled his glove back onto his right hand. He also tugged down the sleeve of his winter overcoat, covering up the telanium-silver bracelet and its glow. "I'm not a werewolf. Or... or at least I don't think I am? But if I was... then what do we do now?"

Lilly was hesitant for a moment. "We contact campus security?"

Graham stared at her. "What?! Why? I haven't done anything wrong."

"I know, I know. But just for the safety of everyone in the academy, maybe you should be in a containment circle? And for your own safety too, until we figure everything out," Lilly said.

Cray glared at Lilly. "You think we should have the security golems put Graham in lockup like he's a criminal? Or some beastly animal? I thought you just said you had a guest lecture this semester by a werewolf? They can live normal lives too."

Lilly shrugged unapologetically. "Some do, but some don't. Have you seen a werewolf? They're scary. Imagine a huge wolf that can stand up on two legs. I don't know if it's some instinctual human phobia, but that's a scary sight even if it's wearing a cloak, glasses, and teaching us a lecture about arcane zoology."

Cray chuckled. "Hahaha. That sounds like discrimination. Are you discriminating against werewolves?"

"Werewolves are powerful, and I think some caution and fear is warranted. The simple truth is that Graham is transforming into a magical, feral, beast creature. He's not in control, and that's potentially extremely dangerous for him, for us, and for everyone else nearby."

"I'm not dangerous," Graham insisted. He thought about this for a while, then added, "I hope."

Lilly crossed her arms. "I think we should play it safe and report this to campus security. At least we have to inform someone. Prof Drawson would know more about lycanthropy?"

"Woah, woah, woah." Cray threw his arm around Graham's shoulders in a loose hug. Whereas Lilly was still holding onto her wand and watching Graham cautiously, Cray showed no fear or hesitation and was as friendly as he always had been. "Graham's our friend, right? Even if he is a werewolf--which he might be, or he might not, who knows?--even then, he's still our friend. If you let word of this slip to anyone, then the secret's out of the bag. Everyone's going to know. Imagine all the gossip that would go around. And there would speculation and stigma..."

Graham sighed, and he fidgeted with the bracelet around his wrist, rotating it around. "I don't know what to think. I'm not a werewolf. How can I be a werewolf? It makes no sense. Maybe... let's go back to the apartment first. I need to think about this."

Cray patted him on the back. "Sure thing, buddy. Don't worry. You'll get through this."

Lilly snorted. "If you start transforming again, or even so much as cough in a way that sounds like a bark, I'm stunning your ass into a coma."

Cray frowned at Lilly. "Hey! Show support to our friend here, who is clearly going through a challenging time."

"Bah. The only thing worse that getting mauled to death by a feral, out-of-control werewolf is that werewolf being a friend and fellow apprentice. I'm not getting mauled, or worse, bitten and turned into a werewolf too. No offence, Graham." Lilly gestured with her wand, but she smiled faintly. "Prof Tung said I did very well during my active spellcaster examination today. So I can and will stun you again if I need to."

"How reassuring," Graham muttered.

The Royal Academy of Magic was the premier institution for magical studies across the entire Marlander Empire. It attracted magicians of every age and skill level--ranging from young, adolescent novices who could barely do more than cast some sparks from their fingers, up to senior apprentices like Graham and his friends who were increasingly proficient in magical practice and theory, all the way to journeyman, and even fully qualified magicians who did research or were continuing to hone advanced skills.

Buildings across campus came in a wide assortment of sizes and architectural styles, reflecting the different time periods over which they had been built. Rounded, bubbly, organic-looking building designs had once been popular to evoke the concept of magic being mysterious and unusual, but in more recent decades the buildings had been built as more reasonable, rectangular shapes to represent magic being used in practical, industrial applications. The latest fad was pointy wizard towers with spires and dramatic overhanging balconies, for a look that was classic yet distinctly magical.

Paved roads and gravel pathways interconnected the various locations. On their way back to the residential hall, Graham and his two friends passed by training fields where magicians were doing final preparation for the academic year's exams--tossing fireballs at targets or drawing summoning circles into the snow, next to a large greenhouse where plants from various climates where being grown even through the winter cold. They passed by other students and staff, but no one paid Graham any particular attention--a telanium-silver bracelet was not an uncommon accessory for a magician to wear. The bracelet's etched runes were still glowing as they dissipated energy, but Graham kept it covered by the sleeve of his winter coat.

Without any further incident he managed to make it back to the residential complex, then to the small, messy apartment which he shared with Cray, Lilly, and two other senior apprentices. Graham took off his satchel bag and hung his winter coat on a hook behind the door, then he sat down at the common room table. Cray and Lilly did the same, and then the shared, nervous silence which they had maintained through their short journey home was immediately replaced by more questions and discussion.

Cray tapped his palms against the wooden tabletop. "Ok, now. Give us the details. How did you end up a werewolf?"

"I don't know. It doesn't... I still don't know what to think about all this," Graham said. He tugged off his gloves and stared at the alloy bracelet around his right wrist--the runes carved into the metallic surface were visibly glowing. Normally magicians would use an accessory like this to help them channel their power while casting spells, but now it was continuously glowing as arcane energy flowed slowly from within him. "I don't know how this is possible."

"Did you get bitten by something recently?" Cray continued.

"Not that I can recall. A mosquito, maybe?" Graham said.

"Would that work? Can you contact lycanthropy via mosquito bites?" Cray wondered.

Lilly let out a short laugh. "Hah. No, don't be silly. Lycanthropy is an advanced, exceedingly rare magical syndrome with a specific means of transmission. Graham, are you very sure you haven't been bitten by a wolf, a dog, or even some crazy person who looked fully human but might actually have been a werewolf?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I would obviously remember if that had happened."

"What about... bitten by a coyote, or maybe even a fox? Anything canine looking?" Lilly asked.

"No, nothing at all." Graham shook his head and raised his hands in a shrug, though he made sure not to let the metal bracelet slip from his right wrist. "I haven't been bitten by anything or anyone recently. We've all been studying and preparing for the year's final exams--I don't have time to waste with fighting wolves or werewolves or whatever."

"It might not have been recent. Lycanthropy can be latent for months, or even years," Lilly added.

Graham searched through his memories, but he couldn't think of any suspicious incident or event. "No. I... I am pretty sure that throughout my whole life thus far, I've never been bitten by a wolf, dog, or a person."

"Ok. What about--have you ever had gaps in your memory, or times where you've woken up barely remembering the night before?" Cray took out his wand, twirled it around his fingers in a smooth motion, then he slipped it back into his belt. "That's certainly happened to me before. I've had more than a few occasions where my whole last night was a blur, all thanks to the oldest of alchemical brews--alcohol."

"That doesn't sound healthy. And no, I don't get blackout drunk," Graham said.

"Speaking of which..." Cray stood up and strolled over towards the apartment's larder. Opening up the cupboard doors, he snatched out a glass bottle from the collection within. "Does anyone want some beer?"

"I'll pass," Graham said glumly.

Still sitting at the table opposite Graham, Lilly scowled at Cray. "I don't think now is the time to be drinking."

"Why not? We've just finished our exams for the semester, and that's a cause for celebration if ever I knew one. Also, it seems that Graham is a werewolf, which is... bad? Therefore a drink will help ease his sorrows." Cray put the beer bottle on the kitchen counter and then he grabbed a piece of chalk to begin drawing a circular enchantment rune on the countertop using one continuous line. It took him about a dozen seconds, but once done with his drawing he took out his wand and jabbed the tip into the chalk line. Magical energy flared, and the enchanted rune glowed brightly for a split-second before all the chalk vaporized in a puff of dust. All that was left was that beer bottle, and now a thin layer of ice had formed around the glass from the frost enchantment's activation.

"Thank the Emperor that we're magicians!" Cray muttered. He snatched up the bottle. "Did you know that in some backward places they still just rely on cutting huge blocks of ice from mountainsides to get chilled beverages. How antiquated." Knocking the bottle against the table top to flick off the cap, Cray casually took a swig of the cold beer. "Mmmh. Oh yes, that's perfect temperature--just cold enough, but not frozen on the inside. If only I'd been able to make such a perfect frost rune for my exam today."

"Acquiring chilled beverage is a secondary priority behind the whole werewolf issue, Cray!" Lilly grumbled. She was watching Graham wearily. "We're not taking this seriously enough. A werewolf in beast form with no control is just... is just like a dangerous wild animal. We have to figure something out. If Graham changes fully and he loses control, he could attack us. We could end up dead, or horrifically injured, or even werewolves too. And what if he gets loose on campus? It gets worse from there."

"If I get killed by a werewolf, then at least I won't have to study arcane alchemy next semester." Cray took another casual sip from his bottle. "Graham, if you lose control and maul me to death, at least just make it quick, yeah?"

Graham raised an eyebrow. "I most certainly will not. If I really am a werewolf--which I'm still not convinced I am--then I will make extra sure that you suffer greatly when I lose control, turn feral, and go on a mindless killing spree. Your death by werewolf will be slow and horrible."

Lilly covered her mouth as she chuckled, but then she glared. Through it all she had never let go of her wand, and now she waved it vaguely at her two friends. "Haha. No, but this is serious! Can you two not joke about this? There's a werewolf in the apartment. A werewolf! I dislike this!"

"It is quite unusual," Cray conceded, "but this is still Graham. He is our friend. Even if he's a werewolf, I don't think he would maul us to death. Or at least, hopefully he mauls you first, so I have time to run away."

Lilly laughed even harder, then she glared even harder at Cray. "Hahaha... Oh, I hate you!" she grumbled. "If Graham goes feral and mauls me to death, my last action will be to throw a magic missile at your fleeing coward back, so that he catches you and mauls you to death too."

Graham snorted and shook his head. "Ok but joking aside, is that a real possibility?" He raised his arm and gestured to the bracelet. "The telanium-silver stopped the transformation, right? So, we're all safe? I'm fine?"

"You're fine for now. I don't know how long that will last. Maybe we should be taking more precautions." Standing up, Lilly reached over the table to take the beer bottle from Cray, and she took a gulp of her own. She passed the bottle back to him, then waved her wand towards Graham, across the table. "Keep an eye on him. I'm going to look for countermeasures." Lilly went to her own bedroom, which like all the bedrooms, was connected directly with the common room, and she unlocked her door with her key.

"Ok." Cray winked an eye closed, then he gestured with one finger from his open eye towards Graham. "I've got my eye on you. Don't you go transforming into a werewolf now."

"Woof, woof," Graham muttered drily. "Do wolves even go woof? Or is that a dog thing?"

Cray chuckled. He blinked both eyes open again. "Haha. You've never seen a wolf before?"

"I think I've seen them in the zoo, back when I was a young child," Graham said. He nodded towards Cray. "You might have grown up in the countryside, but before I came to the academy, I was from Kadrin. No wolves there."

"City boy. Not that I've seen many wolves myself. My family owns a vineyard, not a dairy or pig farm." Cray took another sip from the bottle, then he offered it to Graham. Before Graham could take the bottle, Cray changed his mind and drew it back. "Actually, maybe we shouldn't be sharing this drink. Because of... hygiene, you know?"

Graham again raised an eyebrow, and he had to hold back a chuckle. "Yes, I'm feeling the discrimination now."

Cray pretended to be shocked. "Hey. Woah. I'm not judging or anything. But since lycanthropy spreads through bites, that sounds like saliva is the mode of transmission, and so sharing drinks or food might not be safe?"

"Ok, that's fair. It makes sense," Graham admitted.

Cray gestured towards the larder. "I'll grab you a new bottle if you want, and draw up another frost rune?"

"No need. If for whatever unknown reason I'm turning into a werewolf, I don't think being tipsy is going to help with staying in control." Graham was quiet for a moment, staring at his own wrist and the bracelet there. "I still don't understand how I could be a werewolf. I feel... almost like when I first learned I could use magic, because that was baffling and unbelievable too."

Cray nodded. "I think I know what you mean."

Graham's gaze went distant as he recalled memories. "At the time I was... maybe sixteen years old? I was reading a newspaper about a new factory that had opened up--they were hiring flame affinity mages to work in the forge. And there was a photograph of them all casting the spell together, with the spellword captioned. I saw that and I read it aloud, just for fun--moctus!"

Graham snapped the fingers of his left hand, and a small magical flame appeared, burning gently over his index finger as if it was a candle. "Just like that. I panicked and shook it out instantly, then I rushed to put my hand under an open tap because I thought I'd burned myself. But I was fine, and that's how I realized I had magic." The young magician sighed softly. He could feel the gentle trickle of energy streaming out through his finger as he sustained the small magical flame. With a minor mental exertion he moved that point about, causing the flame to leap between his fingers, before landing right in his palm where he snuffed it out by closing his hand into a fist.

Cray had been listening, but now his eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together. "I got it. It's all just the same, isn't it?" He gestured between Graham's left hand where he had been holding the magical flame, and his right hand where he was wearing the telanium-silver bracelet. "It's just about control, right? You need to learn how to control your werewolf transformation, just like how you learned to control and use your magical skills. It's all about mental self-mastery and focus, or whatever."

Graham frowned. "I'm not sure it's the same."

Cray nodded encouragingly. "It's probably the same. After all, there are werewolves who can shift form voluntarily, not just being limited to the lunar cycles. Do you want to try it out? Maybe... try taking the bracelet off, and see if you can control the transformation just with your mind?"

"Really? Is that safe? For you, I mean," Graham asked.

Cray glanced over towards the bedrooms. Lilly's bedroom door was open and she was visible inside, searching through her cabinets and her storage chest for something. The other doors were all closed, and the other two student occupants of the apartment (besides Lilly, Graham, and Cray) were not home. Cray nodded. "Sure, I believe in you. Practice makes perfect, and you've always been great with your spell control. Uhh, maybe first let me prepare something though..."

Cray put down the beer bottle and wiped his hands on his cloak to dry them, then he drew out his wand and pointed it at Graham. "Just in case you lose control, I'll try and freeze you so you don't go feral or whatever." After a moment's thought, he stood up and went over to grab a pan from the stove, holding it in his other hand. "And if that doesn't work, I'll give you a smack with this thing."

"Would getting hit with a saucepan really knock out a werewolf, or would it just make him angry?" Graham pointed out.

"That is a good point," Cray agreed, but he still held onto the pan. "Hopefully we don't find out."

"Hah." Graham laughed, but he cautiously grabbed hold of the bracelet and prepared to pull it off. He took a couple of slow deep breaths to calm himself and focus. "Ok. Well, here goes nothing..."

Cray nodded, and he waved his wand. "Do it!"

"Alright, then." Graham snatched the telanium-silver bracelet off his wrist, and instantly he felt energy surge through his body. That sensation of power was most concentrated in his right hand, and he could feel his fingers and wrist muscles contracting and moving. Except it wasn't just his muscles, but the rest of his flesh and bones shifting about, transforming into a new form. Graham dropped the bracelet onto the table and clutched his right wrist with his left hand, and he could feel the change as his limb altered itself.

He tried to fight it. Graham focused his willpower and concentrated on that energy, trying to contain it just like how he could command his magical abilities. He drew on his years of practice with using magic, yet this felt like a losing battle. Attempting to stop all that deep, inner power was like trying to hold a breath forever--the longer he tried to resist, the harder it got.

"Come on, Graham, you can do it. You can control this, right?" Cray said encouragingly. "Oh, am I distracting you? Sorry, I'll be quiet."

"Heh." Graham laughed, but then he gritted his teeth as the transformation progressed. "I don't know if... Blast, this is impossible." Just as before, his fingers and hand were the first to visibly change, shifting in proportions. Thick, grey fur started spreading across the back of his hand, until it resembled an animal's paw more than a human hand. As the transformation began spreading up Graham's arm, the young magician shook his head. "I can't. It's not working. Damn!"

He hurriedly snatched up the telanium-silver bracelet with his left hand and yanked it back over his right arm, and instantly the metal alloy flashed with brilliant light. Instead of the energy welling up within him, it poured out through the metal bracelet. Graham could feel heat against his skin, and the runes on the bracelet glowed with such intensity that he had to glance away.

The flow of energy faded away after a few seconds, and the bracelet's brilliant glow faded until they could both look at it again. "That didn't work," Graham decided.

Cray had raised the pan to protect his eyes from the glow, but now he lowered it down again. "I guess not," he agreed.

"What in the lowest dimensional tiers of hell are you two idiots doing?!" Lilly strolled back into the apartment's common room, carrying a cardboard box with both arms. She dropped the box onto the table and folded her arms.

"I was... trying to see if I could control this transformation the same way I can control magic?" Graham explained sheepishly. "Uh..." Unlike before where putting on the telanium-silver bracelet had returned his right hand to normal, now the transformation had halted but it had not reversed. Graham's right hand now fully resembled a canine paw--it was covered in grey fur, but with dark pads over his palm and with his nails now pointed and sharpened into short claws. Turning his hand around, then opening and closing it a few times, he didn't know what to say. The proportions of his fingers had changed and shortened, but he could still wiggle them about, and he had enough manually dexterity to try picking up the bottle from the table, before putting it back down.

Lilly looked decidedly unimpressed. "And evidently that didn't work."

"Apparently not." Graham held back a sigh, but then another idea occurred to him. "Moctus?" he tried. Driven by the force of his will, he created the small magical flame again, but now over his right hand. The sensation of magic flowing out of his body felt familiar and similar to how it always had, even if his form was altered. Graham gestured towards his hand. "If you could only see my hand from the wrist down, it would look like a dog was doing magic. Or a wolf, technically. Haha, how strange." He cut off the flow of magic, and the flame vanished.

Lilly shook her head, and she didn't bother holding back her sigh. "Uuggh." Rifling through the cardboard box she had just brought out, she started dropping various metal objects onto the table, all of which were made from telanium-silver alloy. "Ok, these might help. Put them on. Put them all on."

There were a couple more bracelets like the one Graham was already wearing, as well as rings, bands in an assortment of sizes, a leather belt with a large metallic brooch that was meant to go around the waist, a smaller belt that was meant to go around the neck, and various other things. The common theme was that all these accessories were either made from or at least contained telanium-silver--a special blend of metals that when alloyed together, were particularly useful for creating magical objects and equipment.

"Wow. Where'd you get all these from?" Graham picked up another bracelet and peered at it before sliding it over his right wrist. Unfortunately, the addition of more telanium-silver didn't seem to reverse the transformation of his hand.

"It's leftovers from my project work in arcane materials class. I was testing out designs to try and create a magical amplifying accessory for cheap. I didn't really succeed, but I did a good report and got graded well." Inverting the whole cardboard box, Lilly entirely poured out its contents then slid the box aside. She waved impatiently at Graham. "Well? Quit staring and start putting on the metal. Hands, legs, neck, head. Everywhere."

Graham hesitated, then he did as Lilly asked, putting on the bracelets, rings, and even the belt. The general effect was that instead of a bright, noticeable glow emanating from the one bracelet around his wrist, the glow spread out across all the metal until it was barely even visible. "I guess the idea is that if telanium-silver can supress a transformation, then more of it will supress it more?"

"That's exactly the idea," Lilly confirmed. She picked up two small loops of metal. "These are earrings. Are your ears pierced?"

"No..." Looking down over himself, Graham felt silly. There were some magicians (apprentice or otherwise) who revelled in their status and enjoyed proudly flaunting their wands, staffs, accessories, or even the magician's guild logo on their clothing. In comparison, Graham had always preferred a subtler approach. Unlike some other students, he didn't bother with telanium-silver accessories to try and provide a slight boost to his magical talents--and certainly even the most arrogant, overcompensating magician would never wear this much alloy.

Cray picked up a sheet of alloy foil from the table and crumpled it up into a silvery cone, which he passed over to Graham. "Put this on your head." Graham did so, which made Cray chuckle. "Hahaha. Graham, you look stupid."

"I feel stupid." Graham could feel all the metal weighing him down--the necklace around his neck, the rings on the fingers of his left hand, the bracelets around his wrists and ankles, and all the other things.

"Your fashion is a distant priority behind my desire not to get mauled by an out-of-control werewolf." Lilly folded her arms as she looked him over. "How are you feeling? More in control? Less likely to transform?"

Graham looked at his right hand. It still resembled a wolf's paw, and even the addition of all this magical metal hadn't made the transformation reverse. "I feel the same, honestly." He adjusted the conical foil hat he was wearing. "There's still... I don't know quite how to describe it, but there's an energy inside me that feels like it wants to escape. Like a breath I've been holding, just waiting to exhale."

Cray sat back in his chair and shook his head. "Graham, good pal, that is not reassuring." He turned to Lilly. "Have you got any more ideas?"

Lilly put her palms together and tapped her fingertips. "Wait, wait, wait. Let me think about this." Strolling to the side of the apartment's common room, she flipped at a calendar on the wall. "Lycan transformations are supposed to be tied to the lunar cycle. We're still a couple of days away from the full moon."

"What's up with that?" Graham asked. "I thought werewolves only transformed on the night of the full moon?"

"No, that's a misconception. Werewolves can shift forms at any time if they have enough control. But full moon is when they (or you) are most compelled to be in beast form, and then new moon is the opposite when they're most compelled for human form. That's what I remember from the lecture a few months ago. It's because of celestial sphere alignment which has gravitational effects on the aethereal flux."

Graham snatched the foil cone off his head and crumpled it into a ball, then he ran his hands through his hair. "I really need to start learning about werewolves. The library probably has some books I could read."

Lilly shook her head. "If you're already starting to change now and are barely in control, I doubt you'll last for a few more days without going full beast."

Graham looked at his two friends. "So what do I do?" he asked.

"We take you to campus security, and have the golems keep you under guard?" Lilly suggested.

Cray raised his hand and gestured with a finger towards Graham. "But... but if we do that, then there's no keeping the secret. Everyone in the academy is going to know that Graham's a werewolf."

Graham wanted to bury his face in his hands, but with his right hand more of a paw, he just settled for resting his forehead against his left hand. "I still can't believe I'm a werewolf. How did this even happen? Ok. No. If it's between keeping this a secret and keeping everyone safe, then safety is obviously far more important. I hope I can stay in control and keep fighting this transformation, but I don't know. Maybe Lilly's right and I should go to security."

"No, no, no. Hold on." Cray waved his hands. "What if we don't get security involved, but we just keep you here and under guard so that if you do transform and lose control, you'll still be contained? Exams have just finished, so there aren't any more classes to attend for a month."

"And how exactly do you propose we detain a werewolf?" Lilly drily asked.

Cray gestured towards Graham's bedroom. "Tie him up in his room? I'm sure we can find rope somewhere."

"Your plan is to tie up a werewolf?" Lilly asked.

"No, my proposed suggestion is that we tie up Graham to a chair, and then if he loses control and transforms into his werewolf form, he'll still be tied up," Cray explained.

"Even if we could keep him confined, which I'm not confident of because he's a werewolf, we still have the problem of noise. How do we explain the barking and howling? Astrid and Casper would ask questions about all the noise coming from Graham's room, and I doubt they would keep the secret," Lilly pointed out.

"Hm. We could gag him? Tie a cloth over his mouth? Or we tape his mouth shut?" Cray replied.

"That's not the only issue. How do we keep him fed and hydrated these few days?" Lilly said. "I guess he could go without food for a few days until the full moon has passed. We--"

"Ok, no." Graham slapped his hands (his hand and his paw) against the table and stood up. "If I'm going to be imprisoned, you might as well just take me to security."

"Sure!" Lilly gestured towards the front door. "Let's go."

"Hey! Come on. No, don't give up. We don't give up on problems so easily." Cray was still sitting at the table and he beckoned his friends back. "Sit down, you two. Sit down, please. I have one last idea. Just hear me out."

Graham sat back down, partially because he was wearing so much telanium-silver that even standing up was tiring. "It had better be a good idea."

"I hope this works out," Graham muttered, as the three apprentice magicians strolled through the forest.

"I hope so too," Lilly agreed.

A layer of snow covered the ground and all the surroundings, but most of the trees were evergreen conifers that had kept their foliage, adding some dark green to break up the overwhelming white. The forest all around them was starkly still and quiet, with barely any sound to be heard beyond the soft crunch of their boots against the snow. Cray was taking the lead, bringing them deeper into the forest with Graham following behind, then with Lilly trailing in the rear. All three of them were carrying backpacks, but Graham was also wearing the many telanium-silver accessories that were meant to be countering his transformation--the bracelets, belt, necklace, anklets, and various other things. All that extra metal weighed him down, and he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He exhaled slowly, and his breath was briefly visible as a small cloud of vapour, illuminated by the mid-afternoon sun.

As they'd first been leaving the Royal Academy of Magic, Graham had kept his winter coat tightly drawn around himself to hide all the telanium-silver he was wearing. However, once they had entered the nearby forest, he had soon loosened his coat so he wouldn't sweat as the exertion of their hike warmed him up.

Resting against a nearby tree trunk, Graham pulled off his right glove and pushed up his sleeve to check his arm. His hand still resembled an animal paw covered in grey fur, but at least the transformation didn't seem to have advanced in the intervening hours since this problem had first occurred.

Lilly came to a stop as well. "How's your hand?"

"Doesn't seem to have gotten any worse, but it hasn't gotten any better." Pulling his glove back on, Graham pulled up his left sleeve to check his wristwatch. They had been hiking for about an hour now. Raising his voice, he called to Cray, who had still been walking ahead. "Hey! Cray, hold up."

Cray paused, and then he turned around and strolled back towards the other two. "Are you tired out already? This is a good enough place to stop, I think."

"Are you sure we're far enough?" Lilly asked hesitantly. She pointed in the direction they had been walking from. "You can still see the smoke signal from the academy."

Graham followed Lilly's point, and sure enough she was right. The clear winter sky was a pale blue shade with not a single cloud to be seen, but there was a thin line of grey smoke rising distantly up into the air. Even as he watched, a faint wave rippled up through the smoke and suddenly the entire smoke plume appeared thick and dark like soot, than another wave moved upwards and turned the smoke bright and white so it resembled a cloud. The waves kept rolling upwards, turning the smoke column black, then white, then black again in a clear pattern.

The Royal Academy of Magic was an institute for teaching and research in all things magical, and the smoke signal was a simple reminder of that. Thanks to some clever trick of alchemy, each tiny particle in that smoke column was a microscopic crystal that could flip between two states, either absorbing light or reflecting it. Therefore, although the smoke itself was only rising slowly, a simple magical spell would cause a state change to quickly propagate upwards, allowing the whole smoke column to be rapidly switched between white and black. It made for a useful long-range signal, and historically the academy had used it for timekeeping--the light and dark patterns in the smoke were a simple code of numbers to tell the time throughout the campus and even in the nearby city of Tiwani and its harbour. Such a signalling mechanism was centuries old by now, and modern advances with miniaturizing clockwork devices had rendered it obsolete decades ago. The academy still kept it running, though now it was just for show as a bit of history for visiting tourists, and to generally remind the nearby city of the academy's presence.

Graham counted the colour changes of the signalling smoke and did some quick calculations in his head. The value he got matched what he was seeing on his wristwatch--it was mid-afternoon. However, because it was wintertime, there were less daylight hours. "Sunset's in about an hour. You two should leave me here and start heading home, or you won't get back to the academy till after dark."

"Good point. At least we're a good distance away from the academy, and the perimeter protection spells will stop you if you go feral and try to come back." Lilly dropped her backpack onto the ground and raised her arms over her head in a stretch. "That was a good hike."

"It was! Ok, let's stop here. This is a decent place to set up camp," Cray said. Though the forest ground was mostly flat and even, here there was a rock outcrop that was about as high as a person's height. Cray put down his backpack and patted the rocky surface with his gloved hand. "This'll be good cover against the wind and snow. It'll be just like that camping trip we did last summer, except that you'll be all on your own and also it's the middle of winter--which is normally a very bad idea, but these are extenuating circumstances."

"That's one way to put it," Graham agreed. Eastwards from the Royal Academy of Magic was the coastal city of Tiwani and its port, but westwards was a large, forested region marked as a nature preserve. Just earlier that year, Graham, Cray, Lilly, and another five more of their fellow schoolmates had gone on a short, two-day camping trip to this very forest, but that had been during the summer where it was warm. "I hope it doesn't start snowing again."

"Don't worry. I'm sure you're going to have a great time. I'm almost jealous of you, getting to go on an impromptu camping trip. I would stay and keep you company, except for the huge risk that you turn into an uncontrollable werewolf and murder me." Cray reached into a pocket of his winter cloak to draw out his wand. "But check this out. Since that last camping trip we had, I learned a brand-new adaptive motion spell that will set up the tent easily." Cray waved his wand about, then he pointed it at the palm of his other hand. "Vitarozin exeleron nirro del!" A stream of magic poured from his wand tip and into his palm, forming a glowing sphere of crackling energy that shimmered and sparked.

"Uhh..." Lilly made an uncertain noise and she folded her arms, and Graham agreed with that sentiment. Magicians had a unique power to change the world around them, but the academy tried to impart the general ideology that magical talent was supposed to be a special gift meant for bettering the world and helping other people, not just a shortcut for menial tedious tasks. Of course, every magician still used magic for menial tedious tasks, but there was a limit to how lazy you could get.

More problematically, magic came in specific affinities which restricted each magician to a particular category of powers--Graham was a flame mage, whereas Lilly had a duality of air and lightning magic. Cray's main specialization was frost magic, but he also had a minor in stone magic and for a few months now he had been trying to expand into the closely related field of metal magic, with varying levels of success.

Which a flourish Cray tossed the ball of magic right towards his own backpack, which was the one where they'd packed in a small tent for Graham to use. There was a _thump_sound, then the backpack's top flap flew open as the tent's various components exploded up and out. The tent sheet folded itself into the correct triangular shape, but instead of sliding themselves into the correct slots, the tent poles violently scattered themselves around the nearby area.

Graham lunged backwards as a tent pole bounced off his boot, and the sudden motion made his winter cap fall off his head. "Hey!" Meanwhile the tent held its shape for a second, but without any of its poles it immediately collapsed back into a flat pile.

Lilly still had her arms folded, and she had not flinched. "Well done, Cray. Well done." She unfolded her arms to clap her gloved hands together--slowly, sarcastically.

"It worked when I tried it before," Cray replied. Looking slightly humbler, he started strolling around the forest and picking up the tent poles, then he began manually setting up the tent.

Meanwhile, Lilly had crouched down to open her own backpack. "Ok, Graham. You started transforming today, which is about a day and a half before the apex of the lunar cycle since tomorrow night is the full moon. We'll be come back for you in two days' time, when hopefully you'll have finished with being a werewolf and you're back in human form."

A nervous shudder ran down Graham's back. He picked up his cap and brushed snow off it before pulling it back on. "Alright. I... ok. I'll be fine."

"You'll be fine. You only need to stay out here for a few days, until the full moon has passed and you aren't uncontrollably turning into a werewolf," Lilly said. She gestured to the three backpacks, which they had hurriedly packed just an hour ago, after they'd decided on this plan and before they had set out. "You've got plenty of packed food, enough water to last you for a while, and you can always start a fire to melt snow into more water if you need to. It's the winter, but you're a flame mage so you shouldn't have any problem with the cold."

By this time Cray had finished quickly setting up the tent, and he walked over. "Alright! I've done it. I've got the tent ready, so that should be all, I think."

Graham took a deep breath, and he nodded at his two close friends. "Thanks for all this. I didn't... I never expected this was how my day was going to go."

Cray nodded. "That's what friends are for. I'm sure you'll get through this."

"You would do the same if it was one of us who was in trouble." Lilly put her hands in her pockets. "Take some notes on the whole... werewolf experience if you manage to fight the transformation and stay sane. I'll do some research at the library and ask some discrete questions. I'm sure there must be some way to cure or treat lycanthropy."

"Thanks. I appreciate all the help. This has been... I don't even know what to say." Graham raised his hand in farewell. "You should get going, or you won't make it back to the academy before sundown."

"Good luck, Graham." Cray raised his hand and gave him an encouraging thumbs-up, while Lilly just nodded her head.

"We'll be back in a few days. Try not to get into too much trouble." Then the two of them turned to walk back the way they had come from, retracing the footsteps they had left in the snow. And Graham was left alone, out in the woods.

Magicians traditionally used wands or staffs to focus their power, but it was entirely possible for them to still cast their spells without such tools. Some magicians even preferred not to use a wand or a staff--it required a bit more finesse to project power directly out from the body, but there was the advantage of not having to carry around a magical tool, or indeed even having to bother with buying or making one.

Graham pulled the glove off his left hand, then he made a swift cutting gesture towards a nearby tree at the edge of the forest clearing. "Moctus pricatan." A wave of magical power swept out from his extended fingers, and he focused it into a thin jet of flame. He kept up the flow of magic for a good portion of a minute, directing the flame jet against one of the lower, but medium-sized branches until he had sliced through the wood and the branch dropped it to the ground.

Nothing physically constrained him to this small clearing in the forest, but Graham had every intention to respect his brief exile. Until the full moon was over and he was sure he wasn't going to be transforming into a werewolf, he was to be stuck in this forest, right here in this little camp.

He strolled over and picked up the branch one-handed to drag it closer towards the rock outcropping and his tent. With more time and more exertion of magic, he carefully carved up that branch into a pile of firewood. Then with a snap of his fingers and another whisper of that same spell word--Moctus, meaning _flame--_he had a small campfire to keep himself warm.

Graham brushed away the snow from a small area next to the rock outcropping, then he sat down and leaned back against the rocks. The campfire was small, but its heat and light were disproportionately reassuring. It wasn't too late in the day, yet the sky was already darkening as the winter sunset got underway. The forest was cold and quiet, but then Graham heard a melodic chirp, and a small brown bird fluttered through the clearing in a blur of motion. The bird was gone in an instant, but the brief sight made Graham smile--most of the birds had migrated away for the winter, but not all of them, and he wasn't truly alone in the forest.

Grabbing one of the backpacks, Graham got out some food. Back at the academy, his two friends had helped him quickly pack some basic essentials for surviving the next few days out in the wilderness. Lilly liked to cook and prepare her lunches for the whole week all on the preceding weekend, before packing the meals into rectangular metal lunchboxes, to be conveniently reheated and consumed each day. She had given several of these packaged meals to Graham for him to tide him through his few days in lonesome exile, for which he was deeply grateful. Tonight for dinner, the menu consisted of stir fried rice with slices of smoked duck and some sort of crunchy green vegetable chopped into cubes. The food was cold, so Graham put the metal lunchbox close to the fire to let it warm up.

As he waited, Graham couldn't resist the temptation to look. He pulled off his glove and examined his right hand again, taking in that strange sight of a fur-covered animal paw where once he'd possessed a human hand. It was a stark contrast to compare his left hand to his right. Yet despite how different his right hand appeared, it was still his hand. His muscles responded exactly as he wanted them to, and he could easily move his wrist and wiggle his fingers, though his digits were now shorter and had claws instead of nails. Graham touched the back of his hand, and that point of contact almost felt like he was just wearing a fur coat.

"Weird," he muttered softly to himself. One thing he did notice was that the fur was far more insulating than bare skin--his left hand could feel the bite of the cold wintery air, whereas his right hand felt perfectly comfortable. Graham pulled his glove back over his left hand, but he didn't need to do so with his right because the fur provided ample insulation on its own.

Graham looked back towards the east and in the direction of the Royal Academy of Magic. In the fading sunset, he could barely still see the smoke signal rising high into the sky. Civilization was close by, waiting for him to return when he was ready for it.

There wasn't much to do. After eating his dinner, Graham cut down another low hanging tree branch to create more firewood. Then he spent about an hour casually practicing the magical spells he'd demonstrated for his senior apprentice examinations over the past week--focused jets of flame, superheating a tiny region of space between his hands, and various other complex ways of directing fire magic--but eventually he grew bored of that too.

With nothing much to pass the time, Graham decided he might as well go to sleep. Reaching out with his magic, he sent power into the campfire and suppressed it. First the flames got smaller and smaller until there was nothing but faintly glowing logs and embers, then through continued force of will, he extinguished the fire entirely and it went dark. The wood was still warm, but all combustion had halted.

The forest was dark and quiet, but not excessively so--towards the east there was a faint glow in the sky from all the street and buildings lights of the Royal Academy of Magic, as well as the city of Tiwani further beyond. Humans, society, and his friends were not too far away. The moon was slowly rising from the horizon, bright and full, and it too provided a source of light to see around the small forest clearing.

Graham unrolled his sleeping bag inside the tent and lay down to sleep. The tent's fabric walls would keep out the wind and the snow, though they weren't thickly insulated as it was meant for use in kind weather, not for the middle of winter. Nevertheless, Graham just kept his winter cloak on as he slid into the sleeping bag. He retained most of his clothing, though he did unlace and loosen his boots as well as pull off his gloves.

Graham was also still wearing all the telanium-silver accessories that were helping to halt his transformation. The metal necklace, belt, anklets, and bracelets made it slightly difficult to find a comfortable sleeping position, but the thickness of his sleeping bag and coat also provided cushioning against all the hard metal. Using his scarf and one of the backpacks as a pillow, Graham went to sleep.

It had been a long, tiring, and very memorable day for the young mage. Graham fell asleep quickly despite the unusual environment, with his thoughts meandering and memory mixing into dreams.

Graham woke up a few hours later. He had left the entrance flap of the tent slightly open, and he could see moonlight now shining downwards, casting dim, whitish illumination onto the snowy ground outside. Raising his wrist, he checked his watch--the timepiece's arms glowed in the dark, but they indicated it was still many hours from sunrise, so Graham rolled over and closed his eyes to go back to sleep.

However before he could return to slumber, he heard a faint sound again and immediately realized that was what had woken him up before.

"Ooowwwoooo!"

Graham jerked up into a sitting position. In an instant and without even having to use a spell word, magic danced around his fingertips, hot and bright. Graham's affinity to magic was for fire and he knew how to scorch, burn, weld, cut, and do all sorts of useful practical things with fire magic, and now he instantly conjured up fireballs, ready to throw.

"Aaawwwoooooooooo!" The howling came again, and Graham remained perfectly still. The only things moving were the magical fire licking at his hands as he kept his power at the ready. Faint, flickering shadows were cast by that fiery light source.

"Owowoooooo!" When the howls came a third time, Graham realized that they sounded distant. It was just some far off wolfpack making some noise. The howls came a few more times, but they sounded increasingly distant, and Graham took a few deep breaths. He vaguely recalled some fact he had once read about how the sound of wolf howling could travel very far because of something about the pitch or the harmonics, and perhaps the calm winter air was more conductive to transmitting sound.

It was no surprise there were other living things out in the woods, even in the winter. The wolf or wolves who were howling were probably far, far away, and regardless, Graham didn't expect they would bother him. Stray dogs and cats sometimes roamed the Royal Academy of Magic, but wolves and other wild things stayed away from humans. And Graham was a magician. He feared no wild animal.

Closing his hands into fists, he extinguished the magical flames and then slowly laid back down. His heartbeat eventually stopped racing and he calmed down fully again, but it took considerable time before he could return to his rest. And he did not sleep very deeply.

When the morning came, Graham woke up with a startle. He was lying on his side, and through the opening of the tent he could see that the sky was starting to brighten. Graham glanced at his wristwatch to check the time--dawn was approaching and it was a new day.

Because it wasn't very bright out yet and he was still not fully awake, it took him a few seconds to realize the problem. Graham spent a few seconds lazily watching the miniscule, delicately intricate clockwork mechanisms of his wristwatch whirl about as they kept time. But then he noticed, and his eyes snapped wide open. Thick greyish fur was covering his left arm--not his right arm, but his left. Hurriedly Graham raised both hands, and he now saw that they _both_resembled animal paws, with short claws and dark paw pads.

"Oh no." Graham pushed up his cloak's left sleeve, then his right, and on both arms he was still wearing the telanium-silver bracelets, but they hadn't stopped the transformation from progressing during the night. With no small amount of trepidation, he sat up and started unbuttoning his winter overcoat. His fingers were shorter and his hands had noticeably less dexterity than before, but with careful movements he undid each button. Shrugging off the thick, waterproof, insulating winter coat, Graham was left wearing a long-sleeved shirt and his pants.

He grabbed his right sleeve and pulled it up even further. The thick fur continued from his hand, past his wrist and the silvery bracelet. Graham pulled his shirt up past his elbow, but his entire arm appeared to be covered by thick grey-white fur. Even more concerning was the fact that the changes went beyond skin deep--his entire limb seemed shorter than before and proportioned differently. Graham pulled down his sleeve again and he reached in through the neck hole of his sweater to touch his shoulder, and he found there was fur there too. Where did it end?

Now with significant apprehension, Graham lifted the hem of his shirt to check his torso, and there was fur there too. "Oh." His boots were still unlaced from last night, and he kicked them off and tugged away his long, woollen socks to discover that the transformation had extended all the way down as well. His feet had shifted to become paws too, now more closely resembling animal appendages.

Another far more concerning thought came to mind, and Graham raised his hand to his neck. There was fur there too, and on his chin, and... "Oh no," Graham repeated, as he felt up his own neck, then his face. The changes to other parts of his body were slightly easier to overlook--a limb was still a limb, just with fur and different proportions--but his head was all different. Graham grabbed his backpack and searched through it until he found his compass. This compass had a hinged lid to be flipped open, and on the underside of the lid was a small mirror. Graham stared into the mirror, but he did not recognize the face that stared back.

The reflection showed a wolf. He now had a pointed muzzle ending in a black nose, two triangular raised ears, yellow-brownish eyes, and fur in banded grey-white patterns that completely covered his head. And now that he was thinking about it, he realized that he could even see his own muzzle if he went cross eyed, but he just hadn't noticed before.

Graham turned his head to stare at himself from different angles, but he still struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. His past impression of werewolves was of them being hybrids of half human and half wolf, but now all he saw was no human and all wolf. It almost looked like he was wearing a completely perfect wolf mask over his head, except that it was too perfect--there wasn't a him underneath the canine head and all this fur, because that was him.

Graham opened and closed his mouth, then he stuck out his tongue, which now was longer and larger than before. He blinked his eyes and even managed to wink them. Touching his face with his hand, he stroked the fur that covered his cheek, then tried rubbing his ears. After a moment he realized that he had enough muscle control to move his ears about now, angling them about or even flattening them back against his head. Something about that discovery made him chuckle. "Hahaha..."

His wolf face was still expressive, though less so that his human one had been. Graham bared his teeth and growled into that small mirror. "Grrr... Big bad wolf. Hahaha." Then realization at his situation set in, and he stopped. "I'm a werewolf. That's... this is... this is strange." He could still speak, although his voice sounded less clear than before as his lips and tongue were harder to move.

Taking a deep breath again, Graham put down the compass mirror and looked around. He tried to slide out of his sleeping bag and stand up, but he ended up tangled in his clothing. The proportions of his limbs were different now compared to the rest of his body, causing both his pants and long-sleeved shirt to become baggy and overly long. Frustrated by his now poorly fitted clothing, and curious to see what he really looked like, Graham started to remove his shirt. Taking off the garment required some effort because the neck hole kept getting caught on his snout and his ears. He also shook the bracelets off his wrists--he was already a werewolf now, and the telanium-silver was doing nothing to help him. His chest was narrow but rounder than before, altered in shape and proportion just as his limbs had been.

With his shirt removed, Graham impatiently started kicking off his pants, but then he stopped himself--what was he doing? He couldn't remove his clothing. It was the middle of winter and far too cold to do without multiple layers of garments, or was it? The air was still chilly, but now his wolf fur was providing natural insulation and he didn't feel cold at all.

The second concern that then came to mind was whether it was modest for him to be walking about in the nude, but it was still early in the dawn and mostly dark out. Also, it was very unlikely that anyone else would stumble upon his camp out in the wilderness. What did it matter? He was a werewolf. If somehow he was discovered, he was getting into trouble regardless of his pants-wearing status. With his decision thus made, Graham struggled out of his remaining clothing. His underwear slid off as well, allowing Graham to discover that his lower half really did resemble a wolf. The proportions and shape of his legs had changed in addition to all the fur everywhere, and he also had a big fluffy tail coming from his butt.

And then he was wearing nothing at all, yet Graham didn't feel naked. None of his skin was exposed--it was all just that thick, grey-white fur all over. Lying on his side, Graham just stared at himself. His body was vastly different from before, yet it didn't feel wrong.

Another thought arose, born of curiosity and completely undeniable. Graham raised his hindleg to see what was there, and it was... exactly what he should have expected. Even his genitals had been transformed. His testicles and shaft all looked roughly the same size as before, but as was the common theme they were now covered in fur and resembled a canine's anatomy. He stared at his own groin and even tried some prodding, then he lowered his leg. "Weird."

In a smooth motion he rolled onto his front and tried to stand up. It was harder than before to balance on two legs but still possible, though he ended up hunched forward. _Walking_on two legs, however, turned out to be more of a challenge. Graham fell forward and landed on his sleeping bag again, but then he tried walking on all fours and found that much easier. It was simply intuitive to walk on all four limbs--one, two, three, four--one, two, three, four--as easy as walking on two legs had once been.

Graham strolled forward and stuck his head out of the tent, but then he hesitated and glanced back over himself again. Standing on all fours, he resembled a wolf in all ways. There was nothing about his appearance that obviously identified him as a human except for that wristwatch still strapped around his left forelimb. Graham sat back on his haunches and raised his watch to look at it. Was that really all that remained of his humanity? He turned his paw around and tried opening and closing it--he wasn't fully sure, but he suspected his digits had a bit more dexterity than was normal for a wolf. And of course, he was able to talk. Graham's experience with canines was mostly limited to having seen stray dogs in his home city or the Royal Academy of Magic, but he was quite certain that speech was not an ability that any normal canine would possess. "Being a werewolf is weird. But I'm in control. I might have turned, but I am in fully in control. Yes..."

Turning around, Graham grabbed his winter coat and tossed it over his back like a cape. He wasn't cold at all, but it just made him feel more human. He also tried to put his winter cap back on, but it wouldn't fit over both his large, triangular ears, so he just left it cocked at an angle, covering half his head and only one ear. Then he trotted out of his tent, walking on all fours.

"I bet no wolf can do this," Graham muttered to himself. He flipped open the backpack and used his jaws to grab another of the rectangular meal containers. Putting down the container next to the cold, ashen remains of the campfire, he reached for the small pile of firewood he had prepared yesterday and started assembling the campfire again. A slight breeze blew through the clearing, however even without the fire burning yet, Graham didn't feel any cold. His fur kept him well insulated.

"There's not a single wild wolf that could do this," Graham repeated. With the branches and lumber stacked up into a neat pile, he raised a forelimb and gestured. "Moctus!"

Magic surged out from his paw and the campfire flared bright, with all the wood instantly catching fire with a crackle. Graham let out his breath in a soft exhale. He had been somewhat concerned about having lost his ability to do magic, but clearly that still worked. He was still a magician, even if he was now also a werewolf. With the meal container's metal lid still on, he nudged it closer towards the fire to warm it up. As he waited, Graham stared up at the clear dawn sky, where towards the east there was increasing light as sunrise approached.

Standing up, Graham slowly strolled around the campfire, then he paced around the clearing and circled his tent. He tried, and it was possible for him to walk about on his two hindlegs, though this was slower and required effort to balance. It was simpler and easier to go about on all fours, and the snow on the ground didn't cause any discomfort to his paws. He padded around slowly, then went back to sitting beside the campfire.

"One, two, three, four, five. Twelve by seven is eighty-four. Sixty-four over two is thirty-two, over four is sixteen, over eight is eight. Telanium-silver alloy is an aether flux superconductor at ratios between ninety-nine-to-one and three-to-seven." Graham started stating random facts aloud, just to fully convince himself that his thoughts and his memories were intact. "After senior apprenticeship, trainees will take up a journeyman attachment for one to three years under a fully-qualified magician before final qualification assessments. The capital of the Marlander Empire is the City of Kadrin, in the regional district of Drin, through which flows the Kales River towards the Glassy Sea. Uh... yes."

He still felt like he was in control of himself--there was no question that he was a werewolf after how his body had changed, but his mind was still his own. In truth, that was the greatest relief. His biggest concern yesterday with the unexpected revelation of being a werewolf was not about having fur, a quadrupedal form, or even about a fluffy, wagging tail, but instead about losing control. The thought of going feral and mauling his friends, fellow students, or any people at all was just wrong, but Graham felt reassured now. His body might have transformed into this completely animal form, however as long as he still had his mind, then he wasn't really changed at all.

Graham pulled the meal container tin away from the fire. The metal surface was almost too hot to be touched now, but he carefully used his claws to avoid getting burnt. He pushed some snow onto the container's sides to cool it back down, then he lifted off the lid. A puff of warm steam poured from the inside, making Graham recoil sharply which caused his cap to fall off his head, but then he lowered his snout to sniff deeply at the food inside. It had been an instinctual move done without thinking, but the smell ran through his nostrils and slammed into his mind.

Warm, rich, creamy, and fragrant, it was the exact same meal as yesterday yet now it smelled so much better. The food was steamy and delicious, and now it felt like he could individually discern a multitude of different scents coming from the various ingredients--rice, meat, vegetables, sauce, even the cooking oil and garnishing--and all together it blended into an exquisite medley of odours. Graham sniffed again at the food, and the smell was so good that he felt goose bumps--all his fur puffed outwards, making him look slightly bigger and extra fuzzy.

With the meal container tin resting on the ground, he bent down and stuck his muzzle in to start eating. There was no use bothering with cutlery as he had yesterday since his hands were less dextrous than before. As he was eating, he found that there hadn't been enough time next to the fire for all the food to warm up evenly, so there were some parts that were hot and other parts that were still cold, but Graham didn't care. It tasted just as great as it smelt, and he suddenly found himself ravenously hungry. In the course of just minutes he scarfed down all the food, then he licked the container clean.

Raising his head and sitting back on his hindquarters, Graham felt much better now that his stomach was filled. Orange beams of sunshine were starting to slide over the treetops, and this seemed like a fine start for his first day as a werewolf. However, as he sat still for a moment and took another deep breath of the wintery morning air, Graham realized that it wasn't just the scent of food which had been amplified. He could smell everything now.

The campfire's smoke was blowing away from him, yet he could clearly smell the deep, smoky odour of burning wood along with the fresh scent of pine needles. Turning his head around and paying proper attention to his new nose for the first time, there was so much to take in that it approached a sensory overload. Back as a human, his sense of smell had been perfunctory--he could smell food in the academy's cafeteria, or the noxious chemicals in the alchemy lab, or sometimes the freshly cut grass whenever the fields were trimmed, but that all that paled in comparison to the depth of his olfactory input now. Everything was a new experience.

Sniffing at the backpack with all the various meal container tins, Graham realized that he could discern the contents of each packed meal. Even without seeing or opening up them up, his sense of smell was strong enough now that he could tell what type of food was in each one. Withdrawing his snout from the backpack, Graham then noticed that he could smell the backpack itself. The leather flaps had their own distinctive scent, while the fabric weave had a different odour. The food had been a good, desirable smell, but these scents were more neutral--they were neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but simply informational.

Sniffing at the backpack's straps, Graham then found a different scent. This was Lilly's backpack, and he could smell sweat, hair, and even skin oils from the past times she had carried it. Graham then sniffed at Cray's backpack, then his own, and they all smelled different. Every pack had its own unique smell, imparted on it from its owner through physical contact. Graham sniffed at his own winter coat then the rest of his clothes, all of which were now just discarded in the tent, and he could clearly recognize his own scent which matched the scent on his backpack. Graham raised a paw and sniffed at it, then he tried sniffing under his armpit, and even his sides too.

He found it all fascinating. Certainly, he hadn't expected such an outcome, but it seemed perfectly logical now that he thought about it. A wolf would have a better nose than a human. Graham then pondered all his other senses, wondering if there had been some trade-off. His ears were large and perky, and he could deliberately angle them about to focus in different directions, even backwards, so presumably his hearing wasn't any worse off than before. He had fur almost everywhere now which did dampen his sense of touch, but he could still feel the point of contact when he tried touching one arm with the other.

Graham glanced around, looking at things but not really looking at them to test his eyes. Everything looked sharp to his vision, but overall it was hard to objectively decide if his eyesight was better or worse than before. Looking high in the sky towards the east, Graham could see the faint smoke column that was rising up from the Royal Academy of Magic in the distance. The smoke was already shifting between black and white, moving in a pattern to signal the precise time, and he had no trouble making out that distant signal just as he had done as a human. Some colours also looked muted and less vibrant--the backpacks were dyed in a variety of bright hues, but Graham realized that some shades looked more similar than they should have.

Everything had its advantages and its disadvantages. Graham could smell a whole new world of scents that he hadn't even been aware of before, yet his eyes had lost some ability to discern colours. He now had a thick natural coat of fur to keep him warm in the winter, yet he had to walk on all fours, and his hands had become paws, losing manual dexterity. Yet overall, undoubtedly the most important thing was his mind. He was able to think and react like how he always had, and he was fully in control.

Shrugging off his winter coat and leaving it on the ground next to the campfire, Graham trotted over to a nearby snowbank and then he threw himself sideways into it. After a moment he struggled back to his feet and stepped backwards to look at the indentation he had created in the snow mound.

The markings in the snow indicated his new size as a werewolf... and he wasn't very big. Graham estimated his size as being bigger than a large dog, but not that much bigger. He probably was somewhat similar to the size of a normal wolf, and a lot of that was thick fur, not actual muscular bulk. One thing was certain--he definitely did not match his previous mental image of werewolves being huge, hulking, terrifying, half-man half-wolf creatures which towered over people in a bipedal stance, covered in black fur and thick muscles.

Instead, Graham had fur that was shaded in bands of grey that made for better camouflage against snow, trees, or rocks--he had whitish fur for his belly, chin, and paws, then light grey for his sides, and finally a dark grey that was almost black for his back and his head.

And he certainly didn't appear to have acquired any more muscle mass. Perhaps it was just hidden under all his fur? To test for any newfound superhuman strength, he strolled over to a nearby rock that was about his size and then shoved it with his shoulder. Despite throwing all his weight at it, the rock didn't bulge at all and Graham felt silly. He wasn't any stronger than before. He was just a wolf, albeit one which could talk.

Snow powder clung to his side from where he'd been lying down. Graham turned around and tried to brush it off with his paw, then he had a better idea and shook himself all over, which easily dislodged all the snow from his fur. It was animalistic action and not something that a human would have done, but it was effective so he didn't care. The way he saw it, he was already obviously not a human in this werewolf form, so there was no need to stick with doing things entirely in a human way if it was inefficient.

And then there wasn't much to do. Graham watched the sky as it continued to brighten, then he paced around the forest clearing and bounded up the rock outcropping to stand on the high ground overlooking his campsite, but he didn't have anything to do. All he needed to do was wait around until he transformed back into human, and then he could return to civilization.

Graham sat down next to the campfire and looked through a notebook that he had brought along in his backpack. His own dense, messily scrawled writing contained notes and memos from last semester's worth of learning at the Royal Academy of Magic, but it was not a captivating read. He already knew everything that was written there.

At the very least this gave some reassurance that his mind remained sharp enough to be thoroughly bored by having nothing to do. Graham sniffed at everything in his camp and discovered a thousand different scents clinging to everything, but eventually even the novelty of using his new nose lessened as he ran out of things to sniff at. He sat down and did more practice with his magic, carefully using a jet of flame from his paw to scorch markings into a fallen tree trunk. He also cut down more branches from the nearby trees and again used a flame jet to carefully slice them up into firewood, making a neat pile.

Surviving alone in the wilderness was an adventure, and yet it was also so boring. Graham ran back and forth through the snow, leaving a trail of paw prints as he weaved and circled across the forest clearing. One area had a thicker layer of accumulated snow, and he used his front paws to dig at the snow until he had created a small pit of exposed grass. He then pushed snow about and formed it into a wall around his pit, forming a little snow fort in which he could sit curled up. The next thing he tried was to make a snow man, but it was awkward and slow because his paws clearly had less dexterity compared to his hands. Eventually with enough persistence Graham had created multiple large spheres of snow. He reared up on his hindpaws to stack the spheres on top of each other and create a snowman, then he grabbed some twigs to give his sculpture some arms. Feeling inspired, he took his winter coat and gloves and put them on the snowman, which made it much more obvious that this was a sculpture and not just a lumpy stack of snow. Graham then tried to create another sculpture right beside the first, but this time he moulded the snow to make it look like a snow wolf instead of a snowman. The snow didn't stick together too well and ended up just looking like a large, four-legged blob beside his snowman. He put his winter cap over the snow wolf's head, which helped a little bit with the appearance.

Taking a step back to reflect on his work, Graham laughed and his tail wagged, as his own creativity amused him. And yet it took him no time at all to get bored again from his isolation. His wristwatch was still strapped around his forelimb--Graham raised his arm and brushed aside some of his fur which obscured the timepiece's face, and he found that it hadn't even been an hour since dawn.

Moving forward on all fours, Graham decided to go for a walk. Perhaps some exploration and exercise would help occupy his time. Reaching out with his arcane power, he infused magic into the campfire and then extinguished it with a push of his will, smothering all the flames in an instant. Picking a direction at random, the magician-turned-werewolf left his camp and headed out into forest to see what he could find.

At first he simply strolled, but gradually Graham picked up his pace into a quick trot, before accelerating into a run. He weaved between trees and leapt over snow mounds or fallen branches, moving quick and fast. Running on four legs felt as natural as running on two.

The forest all around was covered in snow, with coniferous trees showing their pine needles under a layer of white. Graham spent many minutes running just for the thrill of it, sprinting in different directions but overall heading towards the west until the forest opened up into a wide lake covered by a smooth topping of clear, faintly blue ice. Slowing down his run, Graham padded to a stop right on the bank of the lake. He put a paw on the hard, icy surface and found it firm, and then he stepped out onto the lake. He made a few tentative, slow steps to test if the ice was solid, but he didn't hear any cracks, and soon he started running on top of the ice.

Instead of having to slow down to dodge trees, bushes, and other obstacles in the forest, out on the open expanse of the frozen lake Graham could go at an all-out sprint. He enjoyed the sheer exhilaration of pushing his new body as much as he could, sprinting and bounding across the ice as his claws dug into the smooth, firm surface to provide grip.

Graham ran around the edge of the frozen lake until he came across a stream that was flowing down from a small hill nearby. The sight and sound of moving water made him abruptly aware that his bladder felt full, which was an easily resolvable problem. Graham jumped off the ice and onto the snowy ground again, then he strolled up to one of the nearby trees. At first he tried to urinate the same way he had as a human, standing up on his rear limbs, but this was an awkward position and he found it hard to start. Feeling self-conscious, Graham glanced around--and of course there was no one around, because he was in the wild--and then he turned to urinate like how a dog would. Standing on all fours sideways to the tree, he raised one hindleg and then let himself go. No need to remove any pants or underwear, or stand upright like a human. It was simply efficient to act like an animal because he so very much resembled one.

Once his bladder was emptied, Graham lowered his leg. Without even thinking about what he was doing, he turned around and sniffed at the base of tree. Part of his mind resisted this action and found it repulsive, yet another part felt curious. He kept some distance and he certainly didn't touch the wet patch in the snow, but his nose could easily pick up the scent--his scent, which was now marking this tree.

Graham chuckled from the silliness of it. "Haha. Weird werewolf wildness, this is." Everything felt so novel. His new body form was vastly altered from before, and it was an adventure just discovering how to use it, beyond the adventure that was simply surviving in the wilderness. He picked up his run again--but this time instead of sprinting across the frozen lake, he ran straight up the hill beside the lake. Moving up a slope was a greater challenge compared to running over smooth terrain, and he slowed down as the increasing inclination required more exertion. Graham finally came to a halt right on the top of the hill, where there was an open patch mostly free of trees. His warm exhaled breath was visible in a vapour cloud as he panted tiredly, but it was a good, satisfying sort of tired.

Strolling around the top of this hill, Graham got a better look of the surrounding terrain from this vantage point. Towards the east he could clearly see where the forest ended and became grassy meadows, which then became the neatly trimmed fields of the Royal Academy of Magic. The outer boundaries of the academy were demarcated by a simple-looking wooden fence, but there were magical defences hidden and unseen. Anything larger than a bird that passed that fence line would be tracked, and anything not human that tried to approach the buildings would be intercepted by campus security--boxy, massive stone golems carved from large blocks of marble which were empowered by enchanted runes etched into their stone surfaces.

Beyond the academy's myriad of buildings there was yet more open fields, then the far larger city of Tiwani, and finally the ocean. Snow covered the fields and the roofs of most buildings, though the ocean was unfrozen and ships could be seen sailing in and out of the harbour. In the other direction towards the west, there was snowy forest and rolling hills as far as the eye could see. In the distance Graham also noticed a layer of grey clouds approaching, gradually obscuring the otherwise perfectly clear morning sky.

"All alone in the wild," Graham muttered to himself. There was a sense of solitude and independence with being out here entirely on his lonesome. A cool breeze gently rolled over the hilltop, making the tree branches sway, and ruffling his fur. He spent several minutes admiring the scenic landscape, then he stood up and turned to go.

There was a small pond on the top of the hill, also frozen over, but from it flowed the small stream that trickled its way down the hillside. Graham followed the stream back down as it curved left and right, flowing down in a meandering path until it reached the lake again.

As he came to the base of the hill where the stream fed into the lake, Graham lowered his head to sniff at the water. With the lake all covered in ice, this was the one area where moving water from the stream broke the frozen surface. He was about to start drinking when a flicker of movement across the lake caught his eye.

Graham snapped his head up, but he wasn't sure what had put him on alert. The forest surrounding the lake all seemed calm and motionless, and after a few seconds he decided he had probably just seen a bird, squirrel, or some other harmless small creature flitting about. He dipped his head again to start drinking. The clear stream water was icy cold, but it tasted fresh and clean. The shape of his snout and lips meant he had to lap up water with his tongue, but he quickly got the hang of it and quenched his thirst.

Suddenly there was movement much closer. Graham froze up, with his mouth open and his tongue still in the flowing stream water, as he saw faint motion behind one of the nearby trees. He was being watched. For a moment everything was still, but then a creaturecame strolling out from behind one of the nearby trees, on the other side of the stream. In form it somewhat resembled a dog, but bigger, and wilder. It was a wolf.

Graham remained motionless as his mind worked frantically, trying to think of what to do. In the past years he had gone camping in this forest a couple of times before, along with his fellow students from the academy. During those trips he had always known that there were wolves living somewhere deep in the forest, but never had he encountered one. Graham could vaguely recall that the advice was either to yell and make himself look big, or to play dead. Or was that for bear attacks? He couldn't remember.

Blinking his eyes, Graham lifted his snout from the water. Wait, why was he even scared of a wolf? He was a werewolf. A normal wolf was just his natural kin, but then again, did that mean anything? It was still a wild animal. It could be savage or rabid.

By now, all his mental uncertainty had given the wolf enough time to approach. It wasn't running towards him, just trotting over with a quick, casual stride. Up close, there were several things Graham noticed. The first and most obvious observation was this wild wolf was a little bit smaller than him, by about ten to fifteen percent in his estimation, though with the thick fur that covered them both it was hard to be exact. It was still a large creature that would have passed his waist in height if he'd been in human form standing upright, but wolf to werewolf, they were close in size. The wolf had a similar colouration, though with more of a brownish tinge to its fur, whereas Graham's fur was neutral shades of grey and white.

It didn't look rabid or savage. Instead the wolf appeared healthy and relatively young, with a light-footed stride and no signs of injuries or disease, not even any scars. The wolf slowed down as it approached and it watched Graham closely, with attentive eyes and ears perked up towards him.

Graham slowly backed away from the stream so that the wolf would have to jump over the water if it wanted to attack him. Standing on the opposite side of the stream, the wolf came to a stop and it kept watching him, occasionally glancing around but always returning to stare. "Ruff," barked the wolf casually, and its tail gave a slight wag.

Graham didn't know how to react. "Ruff?" he replied, though his voice sounded slightly more like a human saying the word rather than a proper canine bark. He cleared his throat. "Ahem. Ruff," Graham tried to repeat, but he still wasn't sure if he was getting the intonation right.

The wolf tilted its head. Did it recognize him as a werewolf? Or did it think he was just another wolf? Graham didn't know. He wondered if he ought to just leave, but he didn't know if running away would trigger some predator instinct and make this other wolf think he was prey to be hunted. For another moment the wolf just stared at Graham again, then it crouched down to start lapping up water from the stream.

Idly, Graham abruptly recalled that wolves normally hunted in packs. Was this all a setup for an ambush? He hurriedly looked around but saw no sign of any other wolves approaching. Apparently he had encountered a random lone wolf.

The lone wolf spent a fraction of a minute drinking water, casually quenching its thirst and occasionally glancing its eyes up at Graham to make sure he was still there. When it was done drinking, it stood up and licked its snout dry. Then in a smooth but sudden motion it leapt across the stream and was right beside him. Graham flinched, but again he didn't know how to react other than to keep still as the wolf circled around him.

The wolf's tail wagged again, but then when Graham made eye contact and stared back, the hackles on its back rose up and it growled softly at him, baring its teeth. "Grrr..."

Graham didn't have to be a real wolf to understand the threat. Sustained, directed eye contact was a challenge. Without even thinking, he took a few steps back and averted his gaze, with his own tail instinctually swinging between his hindlegs. This made the wolf relax, and it stopped baring its teeth and panted calmly. Strolling forward, it casually nudged its snout against Graham's lowered head before going to sniff at his behind. Had he just been dominated?

Again, Graham suspected that he was doing something wrong. This lone wolf was smaller than him, so why was he the one backing off? Not that he was going to pick a fight. What did it even matter? The wolf could act like it was the boss--the alpha?--if it wanted to. He didn't care.

The wolf sniffed at Graham all over. It nosed at the wristwatch still strapped around his forelimb, before making a curious bark. "Whuff."

Sitting down on his rear, Graham raised his forelimb to show it off. "That's my wristwatch. It tells the time."

"Hnnnnnh?" The wolf made a confused whine when it heard his voice. Graham didn't consider himself qualified to interpret lupine emotion or communication, but the surprise was obvious as the wolf backed off and tilted its head to peer at him.

"Didn't expect that, did you? Hah." Graham chuckled. "I'm not a wolf. I'm a werewolf. Not that you would know what that is. I'd bet you've never seen anyone like me before."

"Hawoar. Nff." The wolf still looked confused for a moment, then it stepped forward and circled around Graham again, as if trying to see how he was making these very un-wolf-like sounds.

"Silly wolf. You silly, silly wild thing." Graham pointed a paw towards the east, in the direction of the rising sun. "I'm a werewolf. I'm a human magician from the academy, believe it or not. This is not my normal appearance, and honestly I can't even explain how I ended up this way."

The wolf had been listening to him talk, but abruptly it moved away as if distracted. It walked up to a nearby tree and sniffed at it, and Graham wondered what the creature was doing. Then the wolf turned around and raised a hindleg, which made things click in Graham's mind. That was the tree he had relieved himself against earlier, and now the wolf peed over the same spot he had, replacing his scent. It even made eye contact with Graham as it did so. He was definitely being dominated.

"You know... I don't care about that. You can pee on whatever tree you want. I'm not contesting that." Even from a distance away, Graham realized that his nose was sensitive enough to pick up the scent as the wolf marked the tree. There was something strange about that smell, though he didn't know what it was. When the smaller, slightly brownish lone wolf was finished it came back over towards him, and Graham found himself curious. He stood up and sniffed at the wolf--first at their face, then side.

Instantly Graham realized this was something he ought to have done before. He knew that his nose was now very sensitive and vastly more capable than before, but sniffing at random things just wasn't a common human behaviour, so it hadn't occurred to him to do so. Now he sniffed. The lone wolf had its own unique scent, and Graham was largely lost for words as to how to describe it. That scent was of fur and forest and wild canine, yet there were nuances that made Graham instantly certain it was a unique scent. It was impossible to verbally describe all the olfactory complexities, but he was sure he would recognize and remember this scent if he ever smelled this particular wolf again.

Another thing Graham instantly realized was that this wolf was not an it but a she. He also couldn't explain how he knew the difference in smell between a male wolf and a female one, but it was just something that his wolf form instinctually could tell from the scent. It would have been inappropriate to peer at a woman's genitals or even another man's, but this was no human and Graham felt no embarrassment about his curiosity. A quick glance underneath the lone wolf's belly revealed a lack of certain organs that Graham could feel dangling between his own hindlegs. His suspicions based on scent had been correct.

The wild wolf had obligingly been letting Graham sniff at her, as was apparently appropriate wolf behaviour, and now she even shifted her position to push her hips against his snout and let him sniff her under the tail. The smell there was stronger and more intense, and it fully confirmed that this was a female wolf. Graham snapped his head back, and he raised his head and breathed heavily of the cool winter air to clear that scent from his nostrils and his brain. "This is a new experience. I didn't... did not ever expect that this would be a part of being a werewolf," he muttered.

"Oww, roaww, rooorroawww," went the wolf, trying to imitate his speech though not well at all. She bent her forelegs and went into a half-crouched bow, with tail wagging and mouth open like a dog that just wanted to play.

Graham just laughed and shook his head. This was a wild creature, yet there an animal intelligence to her gaze, as well as a clear curiosity. Were wolves normally this friendly and playful? He wouldn't have been surprised at such behaviour from a stray domesticated dog that was familiar with humans, but this was a wild creature. Then again, he wasn't human currently.

Idly, Graham also recalled a story he had once heard from another student at the academy--the story was that the wolves living in this forest were not just normal wolves, but _dire_wolves. Dire wolves were said to be monstrous large and terrifyingly intelligent, able to outwit and hunt almost any prey, even humans. Graham didn't know if the stories about dire wolves were true, and this lone wolf certainly wasn't large or monstrous, though it did seem more intelligent than he would have expected from a wild creature.

The wolf growled again and charged at him, yet now he knew it was just play and he simply rolled over when she tackled his side. Her jaws were around his throat in an instant, yet the bite was loose, and the sharp points of teeth didn't get through his fur.

He kicked with his legs and scrambled backwards, managing to pull out of her loose bite hold. The lone wolf dropped into a crouch again, and then with a playful bark she leapt at him once more. This time Graham also darted forward, using his large size to try and shove the wolf over instead, but she easily outmanoeuvred him and dodged to the side. On first meeting they had both been cautious and weary about each other, but that had quickly been become curiosity, which eventually had become exuberant, youthful energy of play. Were they friends now? Was it even possible to befriend a wild animal, a wolf? Graham didn't know, but he was certainly having fun.

But before they continued, a distant, harmonic sound suddenly made them both stop. "Aaaawwwwoooo! Owwwooooo!"

Both werewolf and wolf perked their ears up and turned to listen in the direction of the howls. One howl after the other, the sounds overlapped in the distance and made it hard to tell exactly how many wolves were howling.

"Awooooo!"

Graham glanced to the side as the wolf he had been playing with sat back on her hindlimbs and raised her head to howl as well. She was loud. The sound harmonized with the distant howling--it wasn't just noisemaking for the sake of it--this was communication. Graham almost wanted to join in, but he didn't know how, and before he could even try the wolf had stopped.

Her playful manner gone in an instant, the wolf stood up and appeared to consider him. She sniffed at Graham again and licked at his snout, but then she turned and ran off in the direction of the other howls. For a moment he contemplated following after her, but instead he just sat down in the snow. "Well... goodbye, then. It was interesting to meet a real wolf." Graham watched as the wolf ran across the perimeter of the frozen lake. She briefly slowed and glanced back towards him, but then she disappeared into the forest line with a wag of her tail.

Graham went back to his camp, giving a quick nod to his snowman and snow wolf sculptures as he entered the forest clearing. His brief excursion into the forest had certainly been a learning experience, though not in the way he had been expecting.

Abruptly Graham felt contemplative. Just this week he had finished semester examinations and he should now have been spending time with his friends and fellow apprentice magicians, celebrating and relaxing as they prepared for the inter-term winter vacation. But out of nowhere had come this revelation that he was a werewolf, and now he was away from human society, exiled for the duration of the full moon as he tried to understand what he really was. How had he gotten infected with lycanthropy? Or had he always been a werewolf throughout all his childhood, but just never transformed before now? Both these possibilities raised numerous questions, and Graham didn't have answers.

Yet it was more than that. His brief encounter with that wild wolf had left him feeling truly isolated. He had not considered this fact before, but wolves were pack animals. Bears, foxes, racoons--these were solitary animals, but wolves lived and hunted together. Except as a werewolf, he was alone.

Graham lay down on his sleeping bag, and he listened to the faint whoosh of wind blowing gently against his tent. All in all, his walk into the forest had been a partial success. He was no longer bored now, but instead lonely--a change, but not an improvement. With a sigh, Graham put his head down on his paws and closed his eyes. It was still mid-morning and only a few hours since he'd woken up, but he managed to doze off into a nap.

Unexpectedly, Graham slept through most of the day. He drifted back to near wakefulness every few hours, but he always managed to relax back into deep slumber. Finally he reached a point where sleep eluded him and his body and mind both wanted to wake.

Rousing from his rest, Graham yawned widely and stretched out his limbs, lying sprawled out on his sleeping bag. A quick glance at his wristwatch indicated it was now late afternoon. Graham also observed that his limb was still covered in fur, which was unfortunate but expected. The full moon was tonight, so there was little hope that during his rest he could have transformed back into human form.

Pushing himself into a four-legged stand, Graham slowly stepped forward and stuck his head out of the tent. The sky was partially covered by grey clouds, but there were still patches of clear blue visible, including towards the west where the sun was low in the horizon. Graham looked around his campsite and the small forest clearing, but everything was quiet and still.

Yawning again, he strolled out and sniffed at the backpack containing the remaining few packed meal boxes. Had he really slept through the whole day, even missing lunch? Graham supposed that was just natural behaviour--wolves didn't stick to a daily meal schedule at fixed times, and they were nocturnal hunters, so it made sense he had easily dozed through the day. He nudged at the cold pile of wood forming his campfire, but he didn't used his magic to reignite it.

Graham glanced at the square, metal, meal container he had just been about to take out and warm up for dinner. Was it appropriate behaviour for him to be eating prepared, cooked, reheated human food? It certainly smelled and tasted good once it was warmed up, but did it adequately meet whatever nutritional requirements a wolf might have? He wasn't a real wolf, but since he was a werewolf Graham felt like he ought not to restrict himself to only behaving like a human.

Perhaps he ought to do things the natural way, or at least make an attempt. Putting down the meal tin, Graham shook himself all over, then he trotted out of his camp and went to do some hunting.

After some initial eagerness, Graham quickly began to wonder why he had even bothered trying to hunt. He spent most of an hour strolling through the forest and looking for any sign of prey, but he came up with nothing. Once he saw a woodpecker steadily drilling a hole into a tree, and he occasionally saw other birds or even a couple of squirrels, but those didn't seem like something a wolf could hunt. Graham had been thinking of finding a deer, elk, boar, or some larger creature that was more appropriate prey.

Finally, as the winter sun started to set and the sky grew increasingly dark, Graham found a large cranberry bush filled with clusters of the small, bright red berries. He sniffed at the berries, then he plucked some of them to eat. They were sweet and sour at the same time, and juicy too. "Behold the mighty hunter, the werewolf," Graham muttered to himself, "fearsome predator of fruit."

Despite it being the middle of winter, the cranberry bush held numerous berry clusters all over to provide a modest fruity snack. Graham spent a few minutes going around the bush, eating any of the berries that looked ripe. He reared up on his hindlegs to stretch his snout higher up on the large bush, but there were quite a few berry clusters that were too high for him to reach. Even as he was trying, a small bird swooped down and landed on one of the branches just a short distance above Graham's muzzle. Showing neither fear nor respect for the werewolf, the bird plucked a red berry with its beak and then flew off again. "I'm being outdone by sparrows," Graham grumbled.

"Hnnnhh."

A soft, whining sound from behind him made Graham spin around, and he turned so fast he tripped up on his own legs and tumbled to the ground, ending up half buried in a patch of thick snow at the base of the cranberry bush.

Standing a short distance away from him was a wolf. The wild creature watched as Graham hurriedly untangled his four limbs and struggled back into a stand. It cocked its head to the side, looking amused. Fuzzy brownish fur, alert gaze, confident stride--this wolf looked distinctly familiar, and when it strolled closer Graham got a whiff of their scent which confirmed his suspicion. This was the same wolf he had encountered earlier in the morning beside the frozen lake--his wolf friend, or at least wolf acquaintance. "Oh, it's you again."

"Woaf. Ruf." The wolf huffed, then she strolled closer and lazily bumped her muzzle against Graham's side just behind his ribcage, making him flinch.

"Hey, that tickles. Stop it." Ignoring his complaints, the wolf playfully bit at his throat, then she licked his face. Graham shook his head, but he didn't pull away. "Yes, yes, you're the alpha. Whatever. I already told you I'm not a wolf. I'm a werewolf. Where did you even come from anyway?" Again he glanced around, but there was no sign of any other wolves.

"Yipp hnnng. Nuff," went the wolf, making noise back at him even though neither could understand the other.

Suddenly there was the distant sound of howling. "Awwwoooooo! Woooo! Owwowowoooo!" The noise was faint, but Graham distinctly heard it, and clearly so did this wild wolf as her ears perked up.

"Is that your pack?" Graham asked, though obviously he wasn't going to get an answer. "Are you going to reply, or...?"

The wild wolf turned her head in the direction of the sound and listened as the howls continued. Unlike previously, however, she didn't howl back. Both Graham and the wolf listened as the howls continued for a portion of a minute, before eventually the distant, echoing sounds faded away to silence.

"Alright then. Before you interrupted me, I was busy foraging for some fruit." Rearing up on his hindlegs, Graham tried again to reach for the berries on the higher branches of the bush. Even sticking out his tongue however, all he could get were some leaves.

"Hmfh." The wild wolf let out a soft snort that sounded faintly dismissive, then she crouched back before springing upwards in a jump. At the apex of her leap, she snapped her jaws around the branch Graham had been attempting to reach for and snapped off the end. Landing back on the snow with a smooth motion, the wolf now held in her jaws a stick with a couple of leaves and a berry cluster attached. With head raised high, she looked smug.

Graham blinked, and he slowly dropped back down onto all fours. Was it a mistaken assumption to attribute emotion and intelligence to a wild animal? There was no doubt this wolf had some level of intelligence--she had observed him trying to reach for berries on a higher branch, then taken deliberate action to get those berries, with greater success than him. However, was it just his imagination about how _smug_she looked about it?

The wolf strolled over and dangled the stick over Graham's head so that the leaves slapped against his ears. Then when he tried to bite at the berries, she immediately pulled the stick just out of his reach. That action left no doubt in Graham's mind--this wolf was clever, and she was mocking him. He was bigger than this wild wolf, and far more importantly, he was a werewolf, and yet he was being mocked. "You think you're funny, don't you?" Graham muttered, though he felt a spark of amusement. "Or did you just want to see me beg? You're a mean wild wolf bullying the poor, dumb werewolf who was just trying to eat some berries. Well done."

"Whao, woah, ahwoah!" replied the wolf in a high-pitched series of whining moans. Finally she lowered the stick and let Graham eat the berries, even while she kept holding it in her jaws. Her tail wagged slowly. Graham assumed that she believed him to be some inexperienced, incapable, weird young wolf who was bad with hunting and foraging, which wouldn't have been far from the truth. She let him eat half of the berries, then she put the stick down and ate the other half.

Graham nodded, then he sighed. "Huuh. Thanks, I guess. Not that I needed your help. How did you even find me? Or was it just a coincidence that we meet again?"

The wild wolf gnawed on the stick and chewed some of the bark. Then while still holding the stick in her jaws, she sniffed at Graham's side.

"Why do you keep sniffing me? My scent's not going to change... I think? I don't actually know." Graham frowned as he thought about it, then he decided it didn't matter. "Hmm, I think you need a name. Everyone needs a name. What would be a good name for a wild wolf, I wonder--Wulf? Lupus? Wolfie?"

"Rrrrr," growled Wolfie in a soft tone.

"Alpha? Sticks?" Graham tried.

Sticks lightly thwacked Graham's side with the stick she was holding in her jaws, before dropping it to try to bite at his throat, but he just ignored her antics.

"Hmm, no, I've changed my mind. I'm going to call you... Sticks," Graham decided. "Stix. Styx? Sticks. Yes, I like that better."

"Ruff." Sticks licked at his face, then she turned away and started walking off. This time, however, the wolf only went a few body lengths away before turning back to stare expectantly at him. "Rooo, awoo," she hummed softly. Sticks looked around at the forest, then she stared at Graham.

"What?" Graham remained where he was for a few seconds, then he hesitantly strolled forward. Sticks waited for him to catch up before continuing to move along, with Graham pacing along beside her. Werewolf and wild wolf walked together, going into the forest.

"So, Sticks, where are we going?" Graham asked, not that he was expecting any response from his lupine companion. The only acknowledgement of this question he received was a brief flick of one ear towards him. He didn't even get a glance.

Graham had just been following the wild wolf, but they didn't appear to be going anywhere with purpose. Sticks just moved through the forest at a casual pace, meandering back and forth without clear direction. She kept stopping to sniff at trees or the snowy ground, and Graham always sniffed too, but he didn't detect anything other than the expected odours of bark, wood, rocks, and forest. Then frequently the wolf would freeze up and stop moving, just staring forward despite there being nothing to see in the forest in that direction, at least as far as Graham could tell. He was just following along. "I'll just stick with you, Sticks. Haha..."

By now the sun had set completely. The full moon was rising and was occasionally visible between the scattered clouds covering the sky, casting pale white illumination over the snowy forest. Even when the clouds obscured the moon, Graham was still able to see around and look where he was going--his werewolf eyes might have had less colour perception, but they were noticeably more capable during night-time than his human sight would have been.

Finally Sticks halted again. The wolf raised her head high to peer at something, then she slowly dropped her whole body down to a crouch. She glanced at Graham and though she did not make a sound, he got the feeling that a message was being conveyed. "What are we...?" he murmured. "Oh. Right. Of course."

A medium distance ahead of them in the forest, a herd of deer was grazing on shrubbery. Graham finally understood--they were on the hunt. Or more accurately, Sticks was on the hunt, and he was merely tagging along for the experience. Once again following the wolf's lead, Graham dropped down into a crouch and they slowly stalked forward towards the herd.

Graham's tail wagged against the snow from eager excitement, but he tried to remain calm and controlled. They were predators on the hunt, wolves on the prowl. The deer were in a group of about fifteen to twenty, and they were nibbling on leaves from bushes or low hanging tree branches. Almost all of the deer had antlers, and quite a few of them were even larger than he was.

Graham had a near total lack of knowledge about hunting, but he supposed that a human hunter might have tried to target the largest deer--the huge antlers would make for the best trophy, and a bigger creature would have the most meat and hide to sell. However, a wolfpack would probably prioritize very differently. A wolf would want to target easy prey--meaning a weak or injured animal, or even a young fawn that was slow and unable to run well. Graham tried to look for any obvious targets, but all the deer just looked like deer to him. He didn't see any that appeared vulnerable.

Unlike Graham, Sticks knew what she was doing. Her movements were quiet and stealthy as she lifted each paw and carefully put it down to sneak forward. Her gaze took in their target prey, the surrounding environment, and occasionally she glanced at Graham as he stuck close to her just to make sure he wasn't falling behind. She was an apex predator in her element, perfectly at ease as she stalked forward through the snowy forest.

As they approached, Sticks moved towards the left instead of approaching the deer herd directly. Graham turned to follow her, but now she fixed him with a forceful, direct glare that made him hesitate and glance away from that challenge--without anything being said, without even a single sound, Graham understood that he wasn't supposed to follow her now. Was she tired of him being so close to her? No, but then he understood. They were going to split up and approach from different angles. It was a flanking, dual pronged attack. Clever! Again, Graham's tail started to wag, and again he had to make it stop to maintain stealth.

With bushes, trees, rocks, and uneven forest terrain, along with the fact he was still crouching low against the snow, Graham quickly lost sight of Sticks as they split up. He was all alone now, moving forward slowly towards the deer herd, silently slipping past obstacles while trying to avoid making any noise. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, and Graham took deep breaths to calm himself. As he got closer to their deer, he suddenly felt a surge of uncertainty--he didn't have a bow, a spear, or any sort of weapon, and he wouldn't have known how to use one even if he had. But no, that was a silly thought. He was a werewolf, and wolves relied on claws and teeth as their weapons.

As the clouds slowly shifted in the night sky, moonlight once again streamed down from above. Graham moved even slower as pale light illuminated the snowy forest. Suddenly one deer that had been grazing closer towards him snapped its head in his direction and let out a throaty sound. "Muhhhrrr!"

That alarm call instantly put the entire herd on alert, and the deer stopped eating their leaves and glanced around. Graham realized he had been spotted, but he was given no time to react. Before he could even begin to _wonder_what to do, the entire herd of deer broke into motion, fleeing widely and flashing the white underside of their tails.

Even faster, however, a blur of brown and grey fur dashed out from another angle. Sticks darted forward from behind a snow-covered bush, sprinting right from the direction all the deer had been trying to run in. The deer panicked and frantically changed course at the flash of her bared teeth.

Graham hesitated, then he quickly straightened out of his crouch. Was the time for stealth over? Clearly it was. The stalk had ended, and the pursuit had begun. Graham trotted a couple of steps, then he ran forward over the snow, heading towards the deer as fast as he could. He pumped all four legs as hard as he could, sprinting quickly to close the gap between predator and prey.

Seeing wolves approaching from two different directions, the deer herd scattered apart. Most of them quickly reorganized and continued with the fleeing, leaping run after a change of course, but a few animals got confused and ran away from the mass of their herd. Sticks sprinted forward with incredible speed, and without hesitation she chose the slower deer and leapt at it. Graham caught a glimpse of sharp white teeth as the wolf bit at her prey. She tried to get its throat, but the deer moved and her bite didn't properly strike the neck. The deer let out a panicked cry even as it kept fleeing. Blood trailed from its throat and shoulder as it ran, leaving a dripping trail of red against the white, moonlit snow. Sticks dropped back to the ground but she kept running immediately.

Graham was still sprinting fast, and now he ran beside the wild wolf as they both chased their prey. It was exhilarating to move at such speed through the snowy forest at night, dodging around trees and leaping over fallen branches as they pursued. They were on the hunt. Graham panted steadily and he could feel the burn in his muscles as he pushed his wolf form to its limits, but unlike before when he'd just been running through the snow for the sake of running, now there was a clear objective. That made it all the more fun. The deer continued running for its life, but they easily kept pace. The rest of the deer herd was gone, leaving just this one lone animal to its fate--it was wolves' prey, if they could catch it. He could smell the deer, detecting its musky, animal odour and its fear. It faced imminent death from this forest's top predators, and all it could do was flee.

Pushing himself even further, Graham accelerated until he was running beside the deer and matching its movements. The deer was about the same size as him and it hopped in a zigzag movement as it tried unsuccessfully to evade him. Again Graham hesitated, just for a brief moment--earlier he had known how to walk around the forest, but not how to track down prey--and now he knew how to run, but not how to hunt.

Following his instincts, Graham snarled and leapt at the deer's side. "Grr..." Reaching out with his forelimbs he tried to grab and slash at the deer, but his instincts had been wrong. Human hands were suited to grasping objects, but his wolf paws were not. Graham's short claws raked the deer's side, but any damage he did to the animal's thick hide was superficial. His misguided jump made him bounce off the deer's side and ungracefully tumble into the snow, and he only narrowly managed to avoid getting trampled by the deer's hooves.

Graham snapped his head up and tried to scramble back to his feet, even as his wild wolf companion sprinted past him and made her second attack on the deer. Graham's leaping claw swipe had not injured the deer, but the impact of his body had still thrown it off balance and slowed it down. That was enough for Sticks to strike--she knew how to hunt, even if Graham didn't. The wolf used jaws instead of claws, biting and tearing at the deer's hindlegs from an angle that made it difficult for the deer to kick backwards at her. This was not a debilitating injury, but it made the deer slow down even further and bought enough time for Graham to recover from his fall and catch up with them again.

Graham almost laughed at the sight as the deer kept running, dragging Sticks along even as she kept up her crushing bite on the deer's upper hindleg. He wanted to help, but he wasn't quite sure how to. Sticks was finally dislodged after having been pulled through multiple body-lengths of snow, but she was up on her feet and back on the chase in an instant. The deer was injured, but it was still able to run with a limp, and the hunt was not yet decided.

Predators and prey kept running, moving through the forest. Graham wasn't keeping track of time. How long had they been running? Instinctively he wanted to check his wristwatch, but that was impossible unless he stopped, and he was not going to stop.

Suddenly the forest all around opened into a familiar expanse. They were at the frozen lake. The deer kept running straight out onto the lake, but its hooves slipped up on the smooth, icy surface and it fell. Wolf and werewolf were in hot pursuit, running out onto the ice right after their prey. Graham spotted his opportunity, and he took it. Imitating what Sticks had done just a moment ago, he leapt at the deer's hindlegs and snapped his jaws. His fangs sank in deep--now more than just smelling the deer, he could taste its hide and its blood as he bit in.

The deer kicked its legs and tried to struggle back upright, but Graham held on tight and refused to let go. Then he heard a growl as his wolf companion attacked too. Instead of biting at deer's legs or its side, Sticks went right for the neck and closed her jaws around the deer's throat, dragging the animal down onto its side. This wasn't the playful, gentle bite that she had used when biting at Graham's throat, but a forceful, crushing bite meant to inflict grievous damage.

Blood openly poured from the deer's neck wound, yet even this too was not an instant kill--the deer kept struggling with its hooves and antlers scraping against the ice, but Sticks kept her bite firm. Graham was still biting the deer's hindleg too, and he helped to hold the animal down as the fight slowly faded from its body and it died. Its struggles slowed and stopped, then so did its breathing. The hunt was over.

After the furious, frantic motion of the chase, everything suddenly was calm and quiet again. Even without releasing his bite, Graham panted tiredly, and he could feel his heart racing. The deer's flesh was warm and bloody in his jaws. Abruptly he felt alive in a way he never had before. The deer was dead yet he was alive, because he was predator and it was prey--and that felt good.

Graham's gaze shifted from the deer to looking at his hunting partner. Sticks was also still biting on the deer's neck, and Graham could see her breathing heavily too, looking tired from the chase but powerful and victorious. Blood stained her muzzle and some of her fur--the mark of a successful hunt. Even as Graham kept staring at her, he had a moment of odd introspection. Was that how he looked? If someone had been out in the forest in the night, they might have looked across the frozen lake to see this primal scene of two wolves standing over a fallen deer, claiming their kill.

Finally the wild wolf released her bite and let the deer's head drop limply down against the ice. She licked her lips and her teeth, and when she turned to look at Graham, she looked so wolfish that he let out an amused huff. "Hah..."

Following her lead, Graham released his bite hold on the deer's leg and inhaled deeply of the frigid winter air. He wanted to say something, but at first he couldn't find the words to express himself--not because he had lost his mind or his vocabulary, but because in that singular instant he was engrossed in the moment. Everything he could see, hear, feel, smell, or even taste--it all seared into his memory, and experiencing was more important than talking. Instead he just stood there, mouth open and tongue dangling out, panting softly as he enjoyed their victory.

"Wow," was what Graham finally said, when he could find his voice. "That was intense."

Sticks tilted her head to the side, and her ears perked up. The wild wolf couldn't understand his words, but Graham got the sense that she understood his meaning, at least a little bit. In response she made a soft, happy whine. "Hnnh!"

"That was much more fun than just eating berries." Graham stood up and put a front paw down on the deer carcass, and he straightened his body into a victorious pose. "Hunting is definitely more tiring than just eating packed food, but what a thrill. I'm an apex predator, yes I am! A true carnivore. Rawr."

"Hmmnh." Sticks whined again, and she padded over to bump her snout against Graham's. Then she licked at his face, which made him laugh.

"Haha, hey. Ok, maybe you're the alpha wolf, but I still helped. Heh. I did not expect this hunt to go as well as it did. We make a good team." Graham nudged at the deer carcass, and he glanced at the ice around them. They were modest distance from the lakeside, but the ice everywhere seemed thick and fully solid. "So, what do wolves normally do now? I guess you eat this thing, obviously. But there's no... butchery or anything. And do you eat right here, or do you drag it back to a den or something first--"

"Grrrrr..." Suddenly Sticks cut him off with a loud, low-pitched, rumbly growl that instinctively made Graham jump. He glanced at her and found that she was baring her teeth and her hackles were all raised--but not at him. The wolf was glaring towards the shore of the lake and growling continuously in a threatening, dangerous way that sent a chill down his spine.

A huge, furry, four-legged creature was standing next to the trees, staring out at them. Covered in brown shaggy fur all over, it had a stocky, bulky form and stood on four thick limbs, with a short tail that was only visible because it was half turned sideways.

It was a bear, and it was easily double the size of either werewolf or wolf. The bear sniffed at the air, then it reared up on its hindlegs and roared at them. "Grraahhh!" Standing up, even from a distance, the bear looked massive. Dropping heavily back to all fours, it stepped out onto the solid ice and began lumbering slowly towards them.

Graham went still. A strange emotion ran through him, causing his fur to puff up around his body and making his tail quiver. It was not a familiar emotion state for him to experience, and he genuinely could not recall ever having felt this way before--a dose of shock but not enough to make him confused, a dash of panic but not enough to make him run, and an overwhelming sense of uncertainty and concern.

The bear was big. It was so dreadfully big, easily twice Graham's size, and it was clearly closing in on them. What was a bear even doing out in the middle of winter? Didn't bears hibernate during this season? Graham didn't know, and he didn't know how to react. What did the bear want?

For that last question at least, Graham could guess. His gaze dropped down to the deer carcass that he was standing over--this was what the bear wanted. It was seeking food, and now that they had taken all the trouble to chase and bring down a deer, the bear could just take that from them.

"Grrrr..." Sticks was still growling, but the sound she made sounded feeble just by comparison with the bear's vocalizations.

"Hhhraahh!!" The bear let loose another deafening, threatening roar, and Graham's ears flattened against his head. Standing beside him, he saw his wolf companion also react--Sticks was glaring at the bear and her teeth were bared in a snarl, but just a brief instant, her aggressive, confident posture faltered. Her ears twitched and she glanced to the side just to check he was still beside her, but then she growled again and even took a few steps towards the bear as it continued to approach.

Sticks moved forward away from the deer as if planning to intercept the bear, but then she changed course towards the left, moving perpendicular while still staying a distance away from the bear. Graham recognized the move. It was the same manoeuvre she had used while preparing to pounce at the deer herd. Sticks was splitting up to attack from a different direction, and it worked--the bear had to shift its focus between the deer carcass and the wolf as she moved to surround and outflank it.

Still standing next to the deer carcass, Graham remained frozen. He instinctively wanted to follow his wolf companion and stick close to her, but he had to stay here and guard the deer. That food resource was what the bear was after, and they couldn't just give it up. Or could they? A tremble ran through Graham's body, but he took a step forward and bared his own teeth to growl at the bear too. "Grrrr!"

"Hnnhrrrraaah!!!" The bear roared again in response, and it did not halt its slow, relentless approach. Graham reversed his step forward and then he took a further step backwards. The bear was monstrously huge. Its limbs and body were thick and robust, with heavy muscle under all that brown fur. Graham's canine teeth were longer than his human teeth had been, but the bear's teeth were far larger still. Its claws were long and dangerously sharp as it strolled forward over the frozen lake.

Graham recognized the emotion he was feeling. It was fear. In the past his only experience with large animals had been seeing horse-drawn carriages in his home city, but never had he felt the focused, threatening, predatory gaze of a wild creature such as this bear. The herd of deer had been prey animals who had done nothing but flee, but now this bear made Graham feel like he was the prey.

His instincts all told him to run, but Graham stayed right where he was standing. He looked to Sticks for guidance, yet he could see fear in her posture as well, despite how she kept defiantly growling at the bear. She was still standing off to the side, trying to surround the bear and scare it off, to no success at all. Graham wanted to follow her lead--if Sticks had attacked, he would have instantly done so too, and if she had run away, he would have instantly fled as well--but she only held back and growled, so Graham growled too, but the bear showed no fear. It was outnumbered two to one, yet it surely weighed much more than both of its opponents combined.

Graham overwhelmingly wanted to run, but he also didn't want to abandon the deer meat after all the effort they had taken to get it. Was there any other alternative? Bending low, Graham closed his jaws around the deer's neck and started trying to drag the carcass back. He wasn't even thinking about where he was trying to go, since the bear was in between him and the frozen lake's shoreline, not that this mattered.

"Hnnh. Hrraaah!!" With a huff and another growling roar, the bear charged. It had still been a modest distance away, but abruptly it rushed forward with unbelievable acceleration for a creature so large. With terrifying speed, it took just seconds to close the distance. Graham only had enough time to let go of the deer and raise his head.

A huge paw with curved, wicked sharp claws each as long as a human finger smacked Graham on the side of his head and neck, brutally knocking him to the side and sending him sliding across the ice. Graham couldn't even remember seeing the bear start to attack--the sheer force of the impact dazed him and knocked his thoughts all asunder. Before he could try to get up, or before he could even fully comprehend what was happening, the bear was on him again.

"Rnnaah!" Violent impacts struck him again and again, with white-hot streaks of pain cutting in lines across his body as the bear mauled him with its claws. It was standing over him, raking, slashing, and growling repeatedly. Agonizing pain arced across Graham's body--he would have screamed, but he couldn't even draw enough breath as the bear smashed him down against the ice. The bear was so close he could smell the odour of its fur, and certainly he heard and felt it as it struck him. "Grraaaah! Raaah!"

"Hnn! Whuff! Raff!" The assault halted as Graham heard a series of furious whines and barks. Blinking his eyes open, the world spun for a moment and everything was out of focus, but then his vision sharped and he saw Sticks madly biting and nipping at the bear's hindquarters. The bear tried to swipe a paw at her, but the wild wolf skittered back as soon as the far larger creature started to turn around, and she just barely managed to avoid getting hit.

Everything hurt. Graham could feel dampness on the left side of his body. For a moment he thought the bear's attack had been so violent as to have broken some of the ice and exposed the lake water, but then he realized it wasn't water but blood that was staining his fur. It wasn't the blood of the deer, and it certainly wasn't the bear's blood--it was his.

Graham managed to struggle to his four feet and he tried to run, but his wolf companion had only briefly managed to distract the bear from its assault. "Hrraaahhh!" Again that was that dreadful roaring, then the bear's paws clobbered him down to the ground before he could take more than a couple of steps. The ice was painfully hard and unforgiving as Graham crashed down against it. Then suddenly he felt a stab of terrible pain at his upper back as the bear bit into his fur and skin. It just grabbed him and shook, trashing him from side to side with unrelenting, primal violence.

It bit him, shook him, put him down to scratch and bash him with its claws, then it bit him again and kept shaking. The bear was roaring loudly. "Raahh! Raaahh!" If it had just been trying to scare him off it would have done so many times over, but it kept going. And why would it stop? It was the top predator, and now why would it need to be satisfied with eating deer when it could have wolf meat as well?

Graham was jostled so hard that it was a struggle to even breathe. Adrenaline ran through his veins, but not like before. The hunt had been thrilling and exciting, but this was terrifying. This was fear. This was death.

"Hnnhh!" Again he heard a whining, keening sound from Sticks. She was still nearby, even if he couldn't see her. Blood was dripping into his eyes as the bear kept shaking him. He could hear Sticks' yapping and snarling as she tried biting at the bear to get it to let go of him, but this time it wasn't to be distracted from its brutal assault until Graham was done for.

The world was a blur of movement and pain, and all he could smell was the iron taste of his own blood on his tongue. "No..." Graham managed to choke out, and then fire exploded from within.

Flames burst out over his body, completely engulfing the werewolf as all his fur came alight with brilliant magical fire.

"Grah!" The bear let out a pained sound and it finally let go of him, stumbling backwards as heat poured out from Graham's body and singed the bear's mouth and paws.

"Enough." Graham dropped to his belly, but one leg at a time he forced himself back into a stand even as power rushed through him. "That is... quite... enough!" he repeated in a growl, as all his fear and terror compressed into a smouldering fury. First of all, he was furious about this _stupid_bear that didn't know bears were supposed to be hibernating in the winter; and second of all, he was even more furious that the stupid bear had the arrogance to steal their food after all the time and effort that he and his hunting partner had expended. But most of all, Graham was furious with himself since clearly he was very, very stupid himself for letting any of this happen. He'd been so curious and engrossed with exploring his new werewolf form that he had forgotten a simple fact--before he had become a werewolf, he had been a magician, and fire was his to command.

Instinctually he turned emotion and desire into magical will. Orange flames surrounded his four-legged form, then spread out in a roaring, scorching wave that encircled him in all directions--all directions except for one, in the direction of Sticks who was standing off to one side, cowering back from him but watching in wide-eyed awe. The raging circle of fire engulfed everything all around other than the wild wolf, fuelled not by firewood but by the burning magical energies that ran through Graham's blood.

The bear had turned to run, but the fiery wave still singed its fur which made it run even faster, fleeing back to the shore and away from the unexpected threat. The magical fires danced furiously across the ice for a moment more, but then they evaporated into nothing as Graham ran out of strength to maintain them. Bright orange flames continued to roll over his body for another few seconds, but then those too halted, leaving behind bloody but unburnt fur.

The moonlit ice was abruptly dark compared to the brilliant flames that had been there just a moment before, and the roar of fire faded and left behind a stark quiet. Graham turned to glance at Sticks, who was still staring at him. She was in a half crouch, with her ears flat against her head and her tail firmly between her legs. "I... I told you I was a magician, Sticks."

The wild wolf jerked back upright and her ears perked up again. "Woah, whaoao, aawaoah!" Sticks whined, noisily complaining to Graham, and though she wasn't saying anything he suspected he still knew exactly what she meant.

"Sorry. I should have... I should have done that earlier, right? I should have used a flame spell to scare off the bear before... before I let it... hit me..."

A wave of dizziness swept over Graham, and he toppled over and slumped onto the ice. His vision was tunnelling, but dimly he was aware of dull creaking sounds coming from the frozen surface of the lake. Just before the world faded away entirely, Graham heard a sharp cruunk-crack. Damaged by his fire, the ice gave way under him, and he felt a sensation of falling as his limp body plunged into the dark, frigid waters.

Deep in winter's grasp, the water was near freezing as Graham fell into the lake. His perception had been greying out and fading, yet the sudden drop into the water hurt so much that he was forced back into some semblance of consciousness. His werewolf fur had been sufficient to keep him well insulated against the snow and the chill of frosty air, but it wasn't enough for this. The icy water felt like needles against his skin, and it leeched heat from his body with incredible speed.

"Huhhk..." Graham drew an instinctual breath, and he kicked all four legs, trying desperately to keep himself afloat. The lake water was still and calm, but it was horrifically cold. His outburst of flame magic had melted a large, jagged circle in the ice around him, and the young werewolf tried to reach for the edge to pull himself up. But there was nothing to grab on that smooth surface and his claws slid against the wet ice without digging in. The water was so cold that it was rapidly stealing all his heat and making his muscles shiver uncontrollably, which made it hard to coordinate any movement, let alone paddle and keep his head above the water.

Then suddenly Graham felt teeth at the back of his neck again. Unlike when the bear had gotten him, this wasn't a brutal, crushing grip that was trying to squeeze and shake the life out of his body, but just a firm nip as Sticks bit his scruff. The wild wolf had avoided falling into the lake, and now she crouched at the edge of the ice and carefully pulled Graham out of the water. It took some effort, but she manged to drag him out of that freezing lake. Soaked and with his fur all wet, Graham gasped for breath and shivered uncontrollably as he lay against the ice. His teeth chattered. "Tt--ha--thanks, Sticks..." he wheezed.

Sticks had gotten her chest and front limbs wet from saving Graham and pulling him up onto the ice beside her. She shook herself all over, which sent droplets of water flying off her fur. "Hnm," she hummed, and then she nosed at Graham, looking concerned as he just lay there on the ice, dripping wet and shivering. "Hmmm?"

"So cold. So cold..." Graham gasped in a soft whisper. He gritted his teeth, and then with all the willpower he could muster he forced his body into motion. Rolling back onto his belly, he somehow got his limbs into position and stood up. The bear, the icy water, the winter--he could still feel pain across his body, and that made him groan through clenched teeth as he pushed himself to begin walking forward.

"Ahhh... I'm ff--fine. I'll be fine. Werewolves have... have regenerative capabilities or... or something," Graham muttered, half speaking to Sticks, half to himself. He didn't know if it was really true that werewolves had healing abilities. He could vaguely recall having heard that werewolves were difficult to kill because they could regenerate from wounds, and it also made sense that his body might be good with repairing itself since it was able to change form in such a drastic way, but at this moment he certainly did not feel invulnerable. Everything hurt, and everything was so cold.

The bank of the lake was just a short distance away, but it seemed like a marathon distance as Graham walked slowly. He could still feel the sharp lines of pain from where the bear had scratched and mauled him, though his limbs all seemed functional. The thing that slowed him down most of all was the shivering. Water dripped from his soaked fur as he trembled, and he was barely able to keep his muscles coordinated enough to keep walking forward.

Sticks stuck right beside him, keening softly and making concerned whines as Graham moved. "Hnng. Hmm?! Ruff!" She ran around him, looking at him from both sides as if trying to assess his injuries. Then she nudged him, before running in front of him and shaking herself all over to demonstrate what he needed to do.

"What? Oh. That's a good idea." Graham tried to shake his body, but he was too cold to do it properly. He was shivering uncontrollably from the cold, and even the brief halt to try and shake his fur dry made him sway on his feet. He just needed to get to land, and then he could resolve all this.

Finally, after a what felt like a small eternity, Graham got to the edge of the ice and he stepped up onto solid ground. Letting out a long, weary sigh, he dropped down onto his side. "Ohh, the wild sucks. Bears and icy water and nonsense. How I miss civilization."

"Whnnn?!" Sticks nosed at him repeatedly and she licked frantically at his face, apparently thinking that he had fallen or collapsed. "Hnm? Hnnm!"

"I'll be fine. Thanks for th--the concern, Sticks, but I'll be fine. If only I was... wasn't so cold... I just need to..." Graham took a deep breath and closed his eyes. For a moment the cold dragged him down and all he wanted to do was sleep, but then he fought away lethargy and sharpened his focus again. "Moctus!"

Magic flared out of him again, with flames starting in the fur at his chest but then spreading out to his limbs, his tail, and his head, until his whole body was encompassed in arcane fire. He was lying down on his side, and the heat from his fire started melting the snow on the ground around him. Unlike the unrestrained, furious explosion earlier, this time Graham only allowed enough magic to flow so that the fire covered him. Every magician had an inner reserve of energy that could be temporarily exhausted like how a muscle could be tired out, and at this point Graham wasn't sure how much more of his magical strength remained, but now he needed warmth more than he needed magic. Normally his inner affinity kept him shielded from the heat of his own flame magic, but now Graham carefully let down some of that protection to warm up his core.

Sticks stepped back as fire wreathed around Graham, though this time she seemed less shocked after having seen what he had done to fight off the bear. "Ruff. Wahruff." After backing away about a body length, she cocked her head and stared at Graham, then she cautiously moved closer and turned sideways so that his fiery heat warmed her up too. "Rrrr."

Graham only managed the concentration and strength to keep up the fire for about half a minute, but that was enough to mostly dry himself off and get him warmed back up to something resembling comfort. As he released his magic the flames evaporated into nothing and vanished from his body, leaving warm steam wafting from his fuzzy, but now much drier fur. "That is much better. That is much, much better now."

Sticks waited for a moment, then she scampered closer and pressed against his side to enjoy the residual, fading warmth from his magic. Graham chuckled and shook his head as he felt her fur against his--it was a reassuring sensation to feel her close presence, and even her smell was starting to be familiar and comforting. "Fire is useful, isn't it? That's why every sapient civilization has fire as one of their first, most crucial prehistoric inventions. Except for merfolk, I suppose. It... I... I'm so tired..."

"Arff, hmmn."

Graham sat up straight and glanced back over his body. There had been blood in his fur earlier, but his unintentional soak in the lake had washed it all away, and now there was hardly any sign of the injuries he'd sustained from his mauling by the bear. It seemed there was truth to the idea that werewolves could heal quickly. "Will you look at that. I don't think I'll even get a scar, despite all that terrible nonsense with the bear. I'm all healed up already, I think."

Sticks also sat up and licked at Graham's face again, then she playfully bit at his neck, which made the werewolf grin but wince.

"Ow. Ok, not fully healed." He felt over himself and found that touching some parts of his side or back still caused a dull, achy, bruised sensation, but he was still in a much better shape than he would have expected. His wristwatch was, against all the odds, still strapped tightly against his forelimb and it was even still ticking. Neither the frantic scramble of the deer hunt, nor the violence of the bear attack, or even the sudden immersion in freezing water had stopped the timepiece's mechanism--it was still functional, just like him.

Graham raised his forelimb and checked the time. "I think that has been more than enough excitement for the night. Let's get back to my camp. Oh, but what about the... food..." His voice trailed off as he turned to peer out over the frozen lake. There were clear circular markings on the ice showing the damage done by his first explosive outburst of magic--just at the edge of the shattered ice was the deer carcass, which was still smouldering and looked thoroughly burnt. The was surely still some edible meat under all that char, but Graham didn't feel like it would be worth stepping out onto the ice again, especially if the frozen surface had been weakened by the fire. "I don't think I dare to test if the ice is still fully solid. Maybe we should just leave that for the scavengers."

Sticks followed his gaze, and she made a few hesitant steps down the shore, but she didn't walk onto the ice. "Ruhff."

"Leave it. I still have food at the camp," Graham said to her. The wild wolf couldn't comprehend his words, but when Graham turned to go, she scampered over to stroll beside him.

Have some company made the walk back to Graham's camp seem shorter. Sticks wasn't able to engage in any conversation, but it was still reassuring to have a companion on this cold winter night in the forest. Graham led the way, and it didn't take them long to arrive. Stepping back into the familiar forest clearing, he took in the sight of the tent, backpacks, and the extinguished campfire, all beside the small rock outcropping. The camp was exactly as he had left it earlier, with no sign of any disturbance. Graham casually nodded his head towards the snow sculptures he had made earlier. "I'm back," he said.

Sticks paused to stare at the snowman and the snow wolf, then she sniffed at them curiously. She could likely smell his scent on those sculptures because Graham had used his winter coat, cap, and gloves as props.

If had only been a short walk from the lake, but Graham felt thoroughly exhausted after all of the night's excitement. He grabbed the backpack that contained all the packed meal boxes--using his jaws, he dragged the pack by its strap over towards the unlit campfire. With a lazy gesture of one paw, Graham ignited the pile of firewood again. "Moctus." Starting a normal fire took much less effort than continuously sustaining flames through magical power. As a magician, it was so natural to use his ability that he wondered how he had let himself get mauled by a bear. Flame affinity was one of the most easily offensive of all the different types of magical affinities, and casting a fireball would have been simple.

As the wood caught fire, Sticks turned her head at the sudden light, and she trotted over to stand beside Graham. He thought she might initially be suspicious or uncertain about the fire, but instead she seemed content to stand near the heat and enjoy the warmth--at least until the wolf caught the scent of Graham's packed meal containers. Her ears perked up and she sniffed at the air, then she came over and got in the way. "Hnnnhngg?" she whined.

"Hoy. Stop being a nuisance and let me heat up the food first." Graham stood up and walked sideways, using his marginally larger size to push Sticks away.

The wild wolf looked offended to be treated in this way, and more generally by the idea that Graham wasn't sharing food. "Grr. Whaoaoao?! Hrrrr." She growled and complained at him dramatically, though she quickly calmed down when she saw that he wasn't eating the food either.

"Just give it a few minutes to warm up." Graham pushed a meal tin close to the fire, then he added another one for Sticks--he wasn't sure how much food a wild wolf ate, but it was likely to be about the same amount as him, since they were almost the same size. After some consideration he put in a third meal container because they were both surely very hungry after all the exertion and activity of the past few hours. As the food all started warming up, Graham flopped down tiredly. Lying on his side made him wince as his body sent out a dull ache from his earlier injuries, but the pain didn't bother him too much and he stretched out his four limbs to get comfortable.

Unlike him, Sticks was curious and lively. She walked around the clearing and sniffed at all his belongings, even venturing inside the tent. With only her furry butt sticking out from the tent, her tail wagged as she investigated that too. Still lying beside the campfire, Graham raised his head to lazily watch her. He couldn't be bothered to get up and dissuade the wild wolf from her exploration, and she wasn't causing any harm. "Sure, go ahead. Make yourself at home here..."

Sticks came back out of the tent, now carrying Graham's scarf in her jaws. She walked over and dropped the winter accessory right between his front paws.

"Yes? That's my scarf? It's clothing. Clothing is worn by humans, which I am, when I'm not looking like this." Graham draped the scarf over his neck and loosely coiled it once around. "There. Ok. Are you happy now?"

Sticks did indeed look pleased with herself. She let her tongue dangle out and panted a few times, then she went back into the tent and carried out one of Graham's boots. Instead of giving it to him, she experimentally tried gnawing on the leather.

"Hey! Don't chew on that," Graham said.

"Ruff." Sticks defiantly did another small nibble on the boot, then she went over and dropped the boot next to Graham, before going to take the other boot to put down beside the first. Graham took his boots and put them aside--he couldn't wear them now, but he would eventually need them again.

Meanwhile, Sticks resumed her exploration of the forest clearing. Picking an appropriate tree at the edge of the clearing, she raised a hindleg and urinated on it, marking that spot with her scent and making eye contact with Graham as she did so.

Graham was unimpressed. "Yes, yes, we've already established you're the alpha wolf, the top dog. Good for you!" he declared. "I'm a werewolf, which makes me exempt from wolfpack dominance hierarchy." Turning to the campfire, he decided that the meals were sufficiently warmed up and he carefully pulled the metal tins away from the fire.

When he lifted the lids from the meal containers, the smell of steaming hot food made his mouth water. Sticks could smell it too, and she eagerly scampered back over. Graham pushed over a meal container for her, and then he began hungrily devouring his own meal. Yet as hungry as he was, Sticks still had him beaten when it came to the ravenous speed with which she scarfed down her food. Clearly she had no problem with eating a human cooked meal, despite it being totally different from the normal wild game in the forest.

In the time it took Graham to eat about two-thirds of his packed meal, Sticks had wolfed down the entirety of hers. She licked the inside of the tin completely clean, then she sat up and started giving hungry looks towards Graham's partially eaten food. "Don't even think about it," he warned her. Graham grabbed the third meal container he had warmed up and slid it over. "Here. If you're so hungry, you can eat this. Just save some for me."

"Hmmnn!" Sticks made a happy whine and she licked at Graham's face again, briefly distracting him from his food, then she began eagerly eating from the third container. Whether she had somehow comprehended what he had said or otherwise understood the concept of fairness, the wild wolf ate almost exactly half of the food and then left the rest for Graham.

Earlier it had been satisfying in a primal way to track down and successfully hunt a wild deer, yet the sensation of having a belly filled with warm, hearty food was even more pleasing. When they were both done eating, Graham took the meal containers and tried to rinse them out with some snow. It wasn't a proper cleaning, but while transformed as a werewolf he didn't have the manual dexterity to do much better.

When he was done, Graham looked up and saw Sticks had been watching him work. Feeling amused, he shrugged off the scarf that had been loosely wrapped around his neck, then he raised a fore limb and murmured a spell. "Moctus." Extending a tendril of power out towards the campfire, his stole a handful of flames that flowed back towards him and wrapped around his forelimb. "I bet you've never seen anything like this before, have you?"

Graham had thought wild beasts would fear fire, but Sticks had very quickly adapted. The wolf had shown fear and awe when Graham had first used his magic to scare off the bear, but then her attitude had quickly become hesitant caution when she saw him use magic the second time to warm himself back up, and now she seemed entirely fearless as Graham demonstrated his power for the third time. She stepped closer and peered at Graham's paw as the bright orange flames engulfed it.

"Rrrrr? Hff. Yaah." Sticks raised her own paw as if she wanted to tap at his, but she hopped back and dropped her paw when she felt the heat radiating from him. The wolf tilted her head and she kept staring at Graham, as if trying to figure out how he was doing something impossible. Again, he still didn't know if it was right to assign emotion and intelligence to a wild creature like her, but the wolf looked like she was impressed. And she certainly had good reason to be.

"You've never seen a wolf do this before," Graham said with complete confidence. He cut off the flow of his magic and let the fire around his paw fade out into tiny sparks of magic that dissipated into thin air. "You might think I'm like you, but I'm not. I'm not a wolf, I'm a werewolf. And I wasn't just a normal human--I was a magician studying at the academy nearby." He let out another sigh, and he lay down on the ground with his back to the rock outcropping. "And now... now I'm out here, exiled in the wild."

Graham stared into the campfire, watching as the orange flames flickered and danced over the logs. The wood crackled softly and he could smell the warm, smoky aroma coming from the fire. The smoke rose in a thin wispy column, vanishing into the darkness overhead. Graham's mind went calm and quiet as he simply enjoyed the moment, doing nothing but existing out in the wild.

Vaguely in his peripheral vision he saw Sticks move around the campfire towards him. Graham was zoning out and staring at the campfire--he didn't react when Sticks nudged at his body as he lay on the ground, but then she started licking insistently at his face which was harder to ignore.

"Horoo." Sticks made a demanding noise, and she bumped her nose against Graham's.

"Huh? Oh. You wolves are weird, always licking and sniffing at things..." Graham glanced at Sticks, then he finally relented and stuck out his own tongue to lick her snout. She tasted like fur, unsurprisingly. "There. Are you happy now?" Sticks panted agreeably, and Graham couldn't find it in him to push her away. "That's for saving me at the lake. Even with magic, I... I might have drowned in that ice if you hadn't pulled me out. Thanks also for the hunt--it was fun to chase down that deer, even if we didn't get to eat it."

Graham started to yawn widely, but he grunted and jerked when Sticks suddenly started sniffing about not at his face but instead at his groin. "Ooh!" The werewolf had been lying on his side, and he tried to cross his legs, not that this had much effect. He hurriedly raised his head as Sticks shamelessly started nuzzling about under his tail. "Hey. Hey, that's not appropriate. That's a private place."

At first Graham thought she was only sniffing at his butt to see what he smelt like, but then she made her intent fully clear when she began nosing and licking right at his genitals. An involuntary shudder ran down Graham's back as her tongue slid against his balls, then his flaccid shaft. For the first time since he'd transformed, Graham felt naked and exposed. His natural fur coat provided amble insulation against the cold, but it didn't provide any modesty--which hadn't even crossed his mind as a possible issue, right until this exact moment.

"Excuse me, what do you think you are doing there?" Graham demanded. He tried to use a forepaw to nudge away the curious wolf, but Sticks' only response was just to keep going.

She shook her head away from his paw, and the second time she used her own paw to push away his forelimb--then when the third time came and Graham again attempted to dissuade her attention from his groin, she bared her teeth and growled softly at him, fixing him with a fierce glare. "Grrrr..."

Graham froze at the sound, and he averted his gaze from her while his ears flattened against his head. He did not like being growled at. Physically he was slightly larger than Sticks, and with his magic he could easily win a fight, but in terms of personality the feral wolf was just more forceful and decisive about what she wanted. "Don't you growl at me! How rude. I could kick your furry wolf ass in a fight if it came to it, and you know it. What's your problem? I shared my food with you, so you should be appreciative and not... not doing whatever it is you're trying to do there," Graham tried to say, not that his hesitancy dissuaded Sticks.

Turning her body so she was standing in the opposite direction that Graham was lying, she stuck her hindquarters towards his face, as if letting him sniff under her tail would just make things balanced. And in a way, that worked. Over the past few hours Graham had become quite accustomed to the general scent of the wild wolf, however now he picked up a different, additional scent emanating from one particular part of her anatomy. It smelled like her, but somehow muskier and deeply enticing. Graham hadn't planned or wanted to sniff a wolf under her tail, but his nose was just too capable. A single whiff of that arousing scent got up his nostrils, and then he was hooked and curious for more. Just from instinct he stuck his snout a little closer and sniffed deeply, and the odour made him go cross-eyed. "Oh. Ooh, that is a... that's a rather nice smell. Why does you smell so good?"

"Hmmf. Mmrrr." With dominance asserted, Sticks resumed licking at Graham's malehood. The warm, wet touch of her mouth was not an unpleasant feeling, and a shivery tingle ran through him. Coupled with that instinctually arousing scent, Graham felt blood pumping to his groin as his body prepared itself to do something he would never have thought he would do. The way Sticks smelled called up ancient instincts in his transformed body, and the things she was doing to him demanded a response--Graham wanted to bury his nose under her tail and breathe deeply of that richly intoxicating smell, but he held back, just barely. Instead he panted heavily and tried to understand what was happening.

"Sticks, what's gotten into you? I'm not a wolf. I'm a werewolf," Graham murmured. "Why are you...? You've seen me do magic." And she had. Yet somehow instead of instilling fear, it had apparently done the exact opposite.

"Raoww, ruff," huffed Sticks, and she kept licking at his groin like it was some delicious treat she was determined to get at. It felt good, and Graham found himself starting to arch his back to press his lower body forwards towards her. Instead of trying to cross his legs, he started to lift his hindleg to let her get more access, but then suddenly the wolf halted and stepped back.

Graham's eyes had gone half-lidded, but now he blinked them wide open. Standing in front of him, backlit by the campfire, was this wild, beastly creature--a wolf with fur of brownish grey, lean but fuzzy, with a sharp, feral intelligence in her yellow eyes. She was a lone wolf, the dominant alpha, and Graham felt a deep connection that was difficult to understand. In rough physical form they were similar, yet at the same time they were so different.

Now Sticks turned so her hindquarters were facing towards him, and she lifted her tail to show him what was underneath. The indecency of such a posture made Graham glance away, but not for long. His gaze was back on her in just another second. Sticks held her tail lifted, and she glanced back over her shoulder to watch what he would do. Her ears were swivelled towards him curiously and she was staring eagerly at him, yet there was also a faint tinge of vulnerability about her expression--was it fear at what he would do to her, or fear at what he wouldn't?

Graham felt like an imposter wearing a wolf's body. He was embarrassingly incapable of foraging, tracking, hunting, fighting, or doing any of the things a wolf ought to do, yet here Sticks was offering him a chance at something else which wolves might do together. Instinct demanded action. He rolled to his belly and pushed to his feet in an instant. That quick motion made his groin press against the smooth rocky surface, and even that brief contact sent a faint tingle up his spine. His heart was pounding hard and suddenly he felt no aches or tiredness at all.

"Grrr..." Growling softly, Graham slowly approached his companion, moving low and slow like she was prey to be hunted. Sticks' tail wagged, as did his. Then Graham pounced, and Sticks let out a playful bark and she spun around to meet his tackle head on. Graham felt an odd sense of relief, yet disappointment too, as the erotic tension of the moment flipped into frolicking play. The two of them shoved each other about and Graham tried to push Sticks to the ground, while she tried to bite at his tail. But the fooling around only lasted for a brief moment before returning to something more serious.

"Hhmrrr." Sticks let out a soft whine, and then she straightened up. Again she turned away from him and raised her tail, giving him a clear invitation. Graham didn't know why he next acted the way he did--it was just instinct--but without thinking he darted forward and buried his snout under the wolf's tail. At first he just sniffed, but that smell of her was maddeningly desirable and he had to get more. Sniffing became pressing his nose right under Sticks' tail, which became licking at that spot of wet, fleshy warmth that smelled like raw arousal in between all that fur. Sticks whined again, and she shifted her hips backwards to press against his tongue and snout.

Getting all that rich, musky odour was pleasant enough, and it made Graham feel an intense tingle in his groin that demanded to be released. Letting instincts take over, he reared up and clambered over Sticks until their hips were almost touching. Her body fit so nicely against his--all that fur against fur, and her body felt warm and solid as he hugged her waist with her forelimbs. The tip of his penis brushed against her behind and Graham felt an overwhelming need to hump madly forward, but now he paused again. "Sticks... are you sure about this? I'm a werewolf, you're a wolf. Is this...? Should we...?" he murmured, but he was talking to himself more than he was talking to her.

"Roaow." Sticks made a complaining, impatient noise. She stood firm underneath his weight for a moment, then she bucked her hips and took a half-step backwards. The wolf knew what she wanted, and she was close to getting it. Raising her head, she licked affectionately at Graham's snout again.

Graham returned the gesture and licked at Sticks' snout, then he nuzzled against her neck and pressed his chest against her back. Yet still he didn't take that simple next step to move his hips and properly couple with her. Sticks clearly wanted it, so the question was whether he dared to continue. He had spent all this time acting like a wild beast, so why hesitate now? He wasn't really a wolf, but now he had the body and instincts of one.

Sticks had pulled him out from the icy water as he'd been drowning, and before that she'd interrupted the bear attack by putting herself in danger, so he did owe her for having saved his life. Why reject her now if this was what she wanted? The two of them had hunted together and fought together, and this was just another shared activity in the day of the life of a wolf. Chasing through the woods after a deer or confronting a hungry bear on a frozen lake had been far more dangerous activities, and there wasn't any harm in continuing now.

"Well, why not?" Graham took a deep breath, and he could still smell and taste Sticks' aroused scent on his muzzle. Giving in to instinct, he pressed his hips forward. Even as a werewolf, Graham was just as male as he had been before his transformation. He hadn't spent much time examining that specifically_male_ part of his body, but his genitals followed the same general form that they had before--a shaft and two testicles dangling in a sack--just that all his skin was now covered by greyish fur, even those organs too. Everything down there now felt swollen with blood and ready to be used, and his penis showed as a length of reddish, pinkish flesh, partially exposed from the sheath of fur and skin that had kept it contained before.

Clutching at Sticks' hips with his forelimbs, Graham thrust forward and jabbed his erection against her hindquarters. His tip slid against her belly, then it bumped against the back of her legs as he tried to get himself into her. Sticks shifted her position, tilting her hips slightly so that Graham's next thrust was perfectly lined up. "Hgrr..." she let out a soft rumbly but satisfied growl as he finally slipped in.

"Nrraahhh..." The noise Graham made was equally incoherent, though just as laden with pleasure as he felt the sensitive length of his male organ slide into Sticks' depths. He had felt some of that slick wetness and warmth against his tongue earlier, but this was a thousand times better. Earlier it had been pleasant when Sticks had licked at his genitals, yet that was but a pale, vastly inferior experience compared to what he now felt. He was still hugging her furry body, yet the way her vaginal canal just encircled and fully encompassed his erection sent bliss jolting through his form.

That first stroke in was exploratory, and what it found was tingly, wonderful pleasure for them both. With each rapid pulse of his heart, blood rushed to Graham's groin and his penis swelled further. Even as he held still, he could feel his length extending and pressing deeper into Sticks' body, gently spreading her walls apart in an exquisite sensation. Graham's jaw dropped open, and one ear folded flat against his head while the other twitched. His fur stood on end, puffing up from his body and making him look slightly fuzzier. "Ooh, Sticks, that feels very nice..."

"Rrrafff." Sticks let out a soft, agreeing sound, and he felt her tail wag slightly and brush against his torso. For a moment Graham simply savoured the warm, deep intimacy of the moment, then instinct seized him by the balls and demanded motion. Arching his back, he started madly thrusting his hips to drive himself in and out of her body. Graham adjusted his grip so that instead of just holding Sticks' waist he was clutching onto her hindlegs, hooking his paws around her thighs--this provided optimal leverage to pull her back against him, so he could thrust and thrust and _thrust_again.

Back when he'd just been an apprentice magician, Graham had experienced a modest number of sexual encounters with some of the other students. Apprentices coming to the Royal Academy of Magic were so often charged with not just magical energy but also excitement about developing their powers. Joining the academy had been a clear step towards independence and maturity, and Graham hadn't even realized how much he would come to enjoy being amongst his peers. Over his past years at the academy, Graham had a few relationships come and go--some intense, some casual, but overall nothing that ever got too serious--and all that was vastly different from what he was doing now. The Graham of then_was not the Graham of _now. Sticks knew nothing about magic or even of human society, but she knew how to be a wolf and she knew the wild, which now made them peers.

Mechanically, things were different too. His transformed werewolf form had a different body plan and layout than he was used too. He had to be reared up on his hindlegs, but the weight of his upper body was partially resting on Sticks' lower back as he hugged her against him. This body was new to him and had never experienced any such pleasure, which in a certain way made him a virgin again--he was inexperienced but enthusiastic, just following instincts and chasing pleasure. Unlike with his past human partners, Graham wasn't able to ask if he was doing the right thing, but everything that Sticks could communicate seemed positive. Her tongue dangled from her mouth in a quiet pant, and she steadied herself against his thrusts, encouraging Graham to continue his mad humping.

"So good. That's so good...!" Very quickly Graham found himself wondering why he had ever been hesitant about this. It just felt completely right to be doing this with Sticks, and the activity felt primal as they stood together in the trodden snow, sharing pleasure on this quiet, wintery night. As he kept thrusting his length into her, Graham felt his erection continue to lengthen and expand as the mind-numbing, toe-curling pleasure sent blood surging to his groin. The furry sheath of skin that had covered his penis had peeled back and was now bunched around the base, fully exposing the sensitive flesh of his erection, but Graham kept his length buried deep into the soft, wet, wonderfully warm depths of Sticks' insides. He could feel her muscles clenching and squeezing against him with each thrust, hugging against him as if trying to prevent him from pulling out. Their bodies were made for each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

Sticks' fur felt soft and fuzzy against his, and it was delightful to hug her close, but the critical point of contact was right at their groins. Pleasure flowed through Graham's body, driven by each firm thrust he made--all that sensation originated from his increasingly engorged erection, arcing up his spine and making his head spin. Each thrust was a spiking pulse of pleasure, in and out, making his hips buck without even thinking about it. Lost in the sensation, Graham's eyes went half-lidded and he lost all awareness of the surroundings as the only thing that matter was Sticks. He rested his snout against the fur of her back, panting softly as he held on and humped. Slick bodily fluid leaked from that point of contact at their hips, matting fur and dripping onto the snow.

To sustain all that constant, frantic motion required no small exertion of energy, and Graham found it quite the workout, but the sensations were so instinctually rewarding that the thought of stopping or even slowing never crossed his mind. He had no concept of how long he lasted. Perhaps around a couple of minutes, or perhaps not even that long, but at some point Graham felt the sensations advance. As the pleasure climbed, he thought he knew what was coming, but he really did not. Right at the base of erection it felt like things were getting tighter, as blood pumping through his groin made parts of his canine anatomy swell up and do unfamiliar things--the end result was that it grew increasingly hard to pull out fully, but it wasn't uncomfortable and Graham obeyed instinct and let his thrusts grow deep and firm instead.

Then a moment of clarity swept over him and Graham blinked his eyes open. He slowed his thrusts and then tried to pull out, only to discover that he physically couldn't. Near the base of his penis a portion had become swollen into a bulb and Sticks' muscles clamped down right there, making it impossible for him to withdraw his rigid, fully erect, exquisitely sensitive length from her depths. He was stuck deep inside her, but it felt so instinctually_right_ and pleasurable that Graham didn't care. "That's weird. But it feels so good..." He hugged tighter around Sticks' waist and then resumed thrusting. Fully embedded inside her, he was almost just grinding and humping against Sticks' body as the pleasure climbed to a nearly unbearable level. He shifted about on his hindlegs, trying to somehow get just a bit more depth.

"Hffrrr..." Sticks let out a soft, huffing growl, and her vaginal muscles clenched against Graham's length, especially around that swollen bulge near the base, and that pushed everything beyond his limit to tolerate.

Raw pleasure overloaded his system, and the young werewolf stopped thrusting and went fully stiff, with every muscle he could control locking up. His balls drew up tight against his body as they prepared to empty themselves out. Even without moving, the rising wave of pleasure continued to climb inside him, reaching a level of intensity where he couldn't even savour it anymore, he could only endure it.

"Sticks. Sticks, Sticks, Sticks. Ok that's... that's really very... I think I'm--Grrroooowwww...!" Whatever Graham had been trying to say, it was all drowned out under a raw, primal noise that was half growl, half howl as orgasm slammed into him. His mind went instantly blank as every thought dissolved in an instant, blanked out by intense, undeniable pleasure. Graham jerked and twitched as waves of sensation rocked through his body, making the muscles in his groin clench and relax in rhythmic patterns. Wolf and werewolf had their hips pressed against each other and it was physically impossible for him to get any deeper into her, but Graham still tried with instinctual bucks of his hips. Liquid warmth rose from within him and shot up his erection, flooding into the Sticks' depths with each reflexive pulse of his muscles. Her vaginal canal was clamped tight against his shaft, holding him right by the base as if he was meant to be here. His whole body jerked, and his tail flagged up and down with each wave of pleasure.

"Yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes...! Sticks. yes... Hnrrr... Urrrhg!" Graham murmured incoherently, with moans and whimpers finding their way out his throat. He was barely even aware of what was happening as he rode out the intense, unbelievably rewarding sensations. Eventually the pleasure started to fade and his mind cleared enough to regain some awareness, but there was more that he wasn't prepared for. Graham had vaguely assumed that sex in this werewolf form would be similar to how it was as a human, and in many ways it was, but now things didn't play out how he had thought they would.

The blinding, overwhelming pleasure receded, but didn't halt entirely. Graham distinctly felt his orgasm slow down, but then instead of stopping completely it just kept going at a slower pace, as did his ejaculation. The waves of pleasure came gradually now, separated by a few seconds each, which gave him just enough time to get some thoughts off before the next pulse of pleasure rolled over his mind and made his muscles clench up to send yet more of his seminal fluids into his partner. "Ahh. Fff... It's... still going..." Graham moaned, with his snout half buried in the fur on Sticks' back.

Sticks was panting softly, and her tail wagged slightly. She seemed to be enjoying herself, or at least he hoped she was. Graham was slumped against her back, his eyes glazed over as the slow waves of pleasure continue to repeat, but he snapped back to awareness when Sticks turned her head and bumped her nose against his chin. "Yiip."

"Huuggh?" Graham shuddered as another slow pulse struck, and he felt his erection twitch against Sticks' insides. He didn't know if this was normal for a male wolf, but it sure did feel good.

Sticks didn't seem surprised either, though after another moment she nudged again at Graham's head and let out another bark. "Ruff." She sounded authoritative, though he had no idea what she wanted.

"Hmm? What?" Just as the next pulse of pleasure faded, Graham half-heartedly tried to pull out, but the base of his erection was still swollen up and keeping his locked deep. He was still stuck inside Sticks, and a few seconds later another pulse of pleasure made his hips roll forward and wiped out any idea about withdrawal. "I can't pull out. It's--ahh. So good... That's really so good," he moaned.

At this point however, Sticks clearly wanted something. "Hffrrmm." The wolf seemed to have gotten tired of taking Graham's weight as he rested his upper body on top of her, and she restlessly shifted her position underneath him.

"Sorry, am I... Ooohh... Should I be doing this different?" Graham tried to straighten up to put more of his weight onto his hindlegs and less on Sticks, yet this did not satisfy the wolf. She raised her head to nuzzle affectionately against his chin, but then suddenly she began moving. Sticks began turning to the side, which made Graham briefly panic as he tried to keep up. "Wait, I can't... I'm still stuck and--"

"Grrrr." Another forceful growl from Sticks made Graham freeze and shut up, just as it had before, and this allowed the wolf to complete her motion. Graham thought she just wanted him to pull out, but instead she crouched her upper body and crawled out from under him before turning around, using both of their groins as a pivot point. Graham had no idea what was happening, and he almost lost his balance as he was forced to briefly raise one hindleg as Sticks moved, but somehow they both ended up standing in _opposite_directions.

It was a very unusual experience--perhaps not for a wolf, but at least for Graham. His penis was still fully erect and still very much stuck inside Sticks, yet somehow it was flexible enough at the root to bend all the way backwards. Now the two of them were standing butt against butt, with Graham's erection flipped around and going between his hindlegs, pointing straight backwards as it was still embedded deep inside Sticks. "Well, that's weird..."

Sticks stopped moving again, seemingly satisfied as the two canines stood rear to rear against each other. All throughout the slow waves of pleasure had kept going, and Graham could still feel warm, virile seminal fluid spurting out through his penis, shooting backwards into his companion. Graham had snapped to full awareness when Sticks had been moving, but now the slow, pleasant pulses of pleasure started eroding his attentiveness. His body shuddered every few seconds, and eventually Graham's forelegs folded with his chest and head dropping to the snow-covered ground. "Oof. I'm... I'm just... lie down for... a while... It's... so good..." His rear half remained upright however, with his hindlegs locked at the right height to keep them butt to butt, so that his erection could stay buried inside Sticks and he could keep shooting his seed into her.

"Hmmrrr."

Graham's eyes had been closed as his head rested against the snow, but then he heard Sticks make a soft, rumbling sound. Blinked his eyes open, the werewolf glanced over his shoulder. Whereas Graham had allowed pleasure to overwhelm his system to the point where he was blissed out and half-collapsed onto the ground, Sticks was still standing tall and proud. Her tail wagged slightly and brushed against his, but her eyes remained sharp and her ears swivelled about as she swept her gaze around, looking out of the forest clearing and into the night for any threats. Occasionally Graham saw a slight shudder go through her body, and he felt her vaginal muscles clench down on his length, which was a subtle sign she was drawing just as much pleasure from their coupling as he was, even if she didn't let it show as visibly.

"Nice of you to keep a lookout, Sticks..." Dropping his head back onto the snow, Graham savoured the experience. It went on and on, far longer that he had ever expected it to. The brief high of orgasm he was used to as a human was just a few seconds of ecstasy, but now his werewolf body let him ride out minute after minute of slow, sustained satisfaction. They stayed like that for a while, bound together while mating reflexes did what they needed to do. The forest clearing was completely still, but for the periodic shudder that went through either of the two wolves, or the occasional wag of a tail.

After something like half an hour, the pleasure finally began to properly wind down. The muscles contractions in his groin weakened and slowed, and suddenly Graham felt himself start to slip out from Sticks. His erection had stayed fully rigid and locked tight inside her, but now he started to soften and then he slid all the way out. At least released from his trance of pleasure, Graham's hindquarters joined his upper half in collapsing down onto the ground, making him wince as his exposed, sensitive, and still mostly erect length brushed against the snow.

Flopping onto his side and curling up, Graham sniffed as his groin. Now at the end of their sexual encounter, he actually got to see what his male anatomy looked like when aroused. His penis was covered in reddish pink skin all over, with the furry sheath having been pushed all the way back to his base. Right near the bottom there was a spherical, partially swollen bulb which had kept him locked deep inside Sticks all this time. There wasn't any head or foreskin, and it certainly looked nothing like how it had as a human. It was weird, but not more so than the rest of him having turned into a werewolf.

Now that they were no longer tied to each other, Sticks paced around a few steps, then she curled her head back to sniff and lick at her groin. For his part, Graham could clearly smell the scent of Sticks' arousal on his erection, but now he could also detect the distinct, sharp odour of his own seed too. After having spent a good fraction of an hour with his reproductive organ locked inside her and steadily pumping his seminal fluids into her the entire time, Graham felt a faint sense of relief that he was a werewolf instead of a real wolf like Sticks. Otherwise, who knew what consequences they might face for their actions after giving in to that primal instinct to mate and breed.

"Rff." Sticks came over and licked at his face again, and then she lay down right beside Graham and rested against his body.

"That was an interesting experience. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did." Graham tried to lick at Sticks' face, to return the affection she showed him. His gesture was clumsy just from inexperience, but she seemed to appreciate the effort.

Enjoying the soft, comfortable warmth of Sticks' body against his, Graham stared again at the campfire as the small orange flames continued slowly burning. Feeling thirsty, Graham slowly got to his feet and went to the backpacks. He took out his water bottle but it was hard to unscrew the cap with his paws, so instead he grabbed a small bucket--one of those useful things to have on a camping trip--and then carrying it with the handle in his jaws, he dragged it through a patch of clean, pristine snow. With the bucket full of snow, Graham placed it beside the campfire to let the heat melt the snow into water, and he also added more branches to fuel the fire.

Then he went back to lying down next to Sticks. The wolf spooned against him from behind and put one of her paws over his body in an affectionate, faintly possessive manner. The night sky was covered with thick, low-lying clouds now, and small snowflakes started to dance down from above, tiny specks of white that were hard to see unless they happened to fall near the light of the fire.

It was calm, it was quiet, and it was peaceful. They spent some time like that, just enjoying the simple satisfaction of a moment together in the wild.

Eventually the snow heaped up in the bucket started to melt, and Sticks got up from the cuddling and padded over to stick her snout in to lap up the icy water. Graham also was about to get a drink, when suddenly he heard noises from the west, coming from deeper in the forest.

"Ooowwwwooo!" "Awwwrooooo!"

The faint sound of howling came from an indeterminate distance away, overlapping and echoing as the noise arrived at the forest clearing. Sticks briefly raised her head, but then she went back to slowly drinking water. She seemed to be deliberately ignoring that sound, unlike before when she had howled back.

Graham's ears perked up as he listened curiously to the distant howling. Instinctually he knew that was the sound of wolves trying to communicate, and he felt a sudden desire to respond. When the howls faded away, Graham took the silence as an opportunity to try howling for himself. Howling was another thing a wolf did, and he'd spent so much time as a werewolf testing the lifestyle of a wolf. Tilting his head back, he tested his throat. "Roo..." Then he took a deep breath and howled for real. "Oowwwwwwwoooooo...!"

His cry came loud and mournfully resonant, sounding just like a wolf's howl and nothing like a human yell. However, Graham only kept up the sound for a couple of seconds, because Sticks jerked her head up and snarled sharply at him. "Raff! Ruffff! Grrrr!"

"...ooo--" Graham hurriedly cut off his howl, but Sticks still scrambled over towards him and growled fiercely, and she even angrily snapped her jaws at his snout, making him duck his head away from her and tuck his tail between his hindlegs. "Hey! Did I... was I not supposed to do that?"

Sticks kept her teeth bared at him for a moment, then her upset posture softened. She licked at his face in a consoling manner, though she did also lightly bite his snout to express displeasure. But almost immediately, both werewolf and wolf turned their heads as the distant howling resumed.

"Wooooo! Owwwoooo!"

Sticks looked distinctly worried now, and she grumbled at Graham. "Pfsccch. Roaw arow rooo. Woawo."

Graham shook his head, and he shifted uncomfortably between his paws. "That was a mistake, wasn't it? Am I not allowed to howl? Is that reserved only for real wolves? I just... I wanted to try it out, and I did see you howling earlier in the morning, so I thought that... uh..."

"Owwwoooo!" The distant howling quietened down for a moment, but then it came again. "Awwwoooo!" The changing pitch and overlapping nature of the howls made it difficult to be certain, but suddenly Graham realized that the sound had changed--it sounded louder, just a little bit. And louder meant closer.

"Mrrr..." Letting out an uneasy rumble, Sticks scampered in one direction directly towards where the howls were coming from, then she stumbled to a stop and sniffed at herself. Spinning around, she ran towards Graham and bumped against his side, before going towards the backpack where all the remaining packed meals were stored. "Hrruff!" Sticks bit the backpack's strap and then started dragging it, in the opposite direction away from where the howls had come from.

"What? What's going on?" Graham asked. Not for the first time, he wished Sticks could speak or in some way communicate properly with him. Sometimes he could so clearly see the feral intelligence running through her inhuman mind, but he just didn't know what she was thinking or doing. "Hey, that's my stuff."

"Yrrr." Sticks dropped the backpack and yapped at him in a demanding manner, before tapping a paw against the pack. Graham vaguely understood what she wanted, but still he didn't know why.

Hurriedly running over, he awkwardly flipped the backpack cover shut and got the catch secured, then he picked it up with his own jaws. "I still would like to know what's going on."

Sticks just turned and ran out of the clearing, before pausing to glance back and make sure Graham was following her.

"Where are we going? Why are we running? Are those howls not being made by wolves? Or... or what?" The last thing Graham did before he left the camp was to reach out with his magic and smother the fire. The flames disappeared in an instant, and the whole forest clearing was left in darkness. Sticks barked again, and then she resumed running into the forest. Graham followed her, awkwardly trying to half carry, half drag his backpack full of food as they moved into the darkness. The winter snowfall continued around them, calm and gentle even as they fled in haste.

Graham couldn't help but worry as he chased after Sticks. She repeatedly kept stopping to ensure he kept up with her, but the real thing he worried around was wondering what they were running from. Sticks hadn't run even from that bear, so what was it that was now causing her to flee? In replying to that distant sound of howling, what had Graham unknowingly summoned? Could it be more bears? But bears didn't howl. Coyotes did howl, but surely Sticks wouldn't have decided to flee from coyotes. Graham's imagination ran wild, imagining all sorts of dangerous, improbable things that might be roaming in the winter forest. Dire wolves? Hellhounds?

They kept going for minute after minute, moving through the woods at moderate speed. Graham could have run much faster, but his speed was limited by having to drag along the backpack half filled with packed food containers, making sure that it didn't get caught on the ground. When Sticks got impatient, she swapped with him to take over pulling the backpack, but she couldn't pull it any faster than he could. Graham even tried to properly wear the backpack on his back, but it was too large and the straps wouldn't stay put around his shoulders, so it kept falling off--a wolf couldn't carry a backpack that had been made for a human. Why were they even bothering to bring that along? If there was some terrible danger in the woods they needed to escape from, then why was it also important to bring the food too?

They continued to run, moving first eastwards, then northwards through the forest. A gentle snowfall descended on the forest as they fled, peaceful and calm in sharp contrast to how wolf and werewolf hurriedly ran. At one point, Graham slowed down and briefly halted to adjust his bite on the backpack straps, and he panted a few times. But as he was looking back over his shoulder, he saw movement in the forest behind him. At first he thought it was just Sticks catching up--but no, Sticks was in front of him, standing nearby and whining softly, urging him to keep moving.

Partially obscured by trees, shrubbery, and the light snowfall, a grey-furred, four-legged creature had bounded over a small mound a medium distance away, but then it slid to a stop and watched the two of them from its slight height advantage. Graham stared, and it stared back at him. Whatever that thing was, it sure looked like a-- "Ruff!"

Sticks interrupted his pondering with a sharp bark, and she scampered around to bump her shoulder around Graham's side to get him to move again. She surely must have seen that creature too, and the emotion that her body language was conveying was increasingly panic--not fear, but panic.

"Owwwoooooo!" Just as Graham resumed running, he saw that canine creature raise its head to howl, and more howls came in reply. "Owwooo!"

Graham and Sticks both continued running together for another minute or so, but their pursuers were quickly catching up. There was howling again from behind them--it was so much louder now, so much closer, and echoing faintly around the woods around them. Graham suddenly saw creatures running in the forest parallel to them, just behind trees on both their left and right sides.

Sticks had been leading the way, but suddenly she slid to a stop and spun around. Graham halted right beside her, and he glanced at his wolf companion. With hackles raised and baring her teeth, Sticks growled softly at the woods around them. "Grrrr..." The chase was over, but this time they were the ones being chased, and they had been caught. Now it was time to take a stand.

A large, four-legged creature with fur of dark grey weaved between trees and then came to a stop several body-lengths away from them. Up close, it was easily clear that this wasn't a coyote, fox, or other sort of canine animal--it was another wolf. The wolf glared at Graham and it growled at him. "Grrr..."

This new wolf was larger than either Graham and Sticks by perhaps around twenty percent. Its fur was darker in colour and a deeper shade of grey, but it looked clean and healthy, though it seemed older and there was a faint scar across its snout--the mark of some fierce battle long ago. The wolf glared first at Sticks then at Graham, with its growl targeted entirely at Graham as it fixed him with a fierce, challenging, dangerous gaze.

Graham stared right back, and he felt the fur on his own back start to perk up. What was this? Before he could even wonder, another large wolf padded out in the clearing. This one had a more neutral, greyish colour not too dissimilar from Graham's own fur colouration, and it stood beside that first, dark-grey furred wolf. It also bared its teeth threateningly at Graham and Sticks, though it didn't growl.

Then more wolves started arriving in the clearing--next came a pair of slightly smaller, thinner wolves that were about the same size as Graham and both looked almost identical to each other, then another wolf who appeared much older because its fur had streaks of white and silvery grey. All the wolves spread out, surrounding Graham and Sticks from all directions but staying a distance away and waiting. Sticks swivelled her gaze about to quickly take in all the other wolves, but she focused most of her attention on the first two wolves which had arrived--those two were the only ones growling and baring their teeth, while all the other wolves simply stood in a circle around them, watching and waiting.

Finally the last to arrive was a little wolf only about three-quarters of Graham's size, with fluffy, scruffy fur and a gangly, still-growing look to its limbs--the last wolf excitedly scampered into the clearing with its tail furiously wagging, and then it promptly tripped over its own oversized paws, tumbling into the snow with a whimper. "Hnnnrrrr!" That whining sound made every other wolf, even Graham and Sticks, turn their heads. The two largest wolves soon fixed their attention back on Graham, as the aged, silvery-furred wolf strolled over to dig the last wolf out of the snow. The small wolf shook itself all over to get snow out of its fur, then it curiously peered at Graham and Sticks, though it stayed back and didn't dare to approach.

A gentle breeze lightly tugged at the snowflakes falling around them, and on the moving air Graham could pick up the various scents of the newly arrived creatures. From smell alone he could tell they were wolves. What exactly had he and Sticks stumbled into here? These weren't hellhounds or strange monstrous creatures. This was a wolfpack.

"Grrr..." The largest, dark-grey wolf growled again, then it lunged forward at Graham. Instantly the young werewolf reacted by pumping magic into the air around himself--the temperature spiked immediately in a wave of heat, and the scatter of snowflakes that had landed on his fur melted into drops of water instantly--but in the split second before flames erupted around him, Sticks reacted faster.

"Rrrr! Roff! Rark! Grrrrr!" Growling even more fiercely and snarling angrily, Sticks leapt ahead and put herself directly in between Graham and that dark-grey wolf. She was smaller than the other wolf, yet unexpectedly this worked. Perhaps it was her courage and boldness which made the attacking wolf hesitate? For whatever reason, the other wolf growled angrily at Sticks but stumbled to a stop. It even tried to pace around to attack Graham from another angle, but Sticks kept growling and she moved as well, keeping herself right between that large, dark-grey wolf and Graham.

The other large wolf circled around in the other direction, and because Sticks was already engaged in a standoff with the first wolf, she couldn't do anything about the second wolf, but Graham was there to guard her back. Standing right beside Sticks, he faced the opposite direction and the two of them stood on alert. Sticks had her hackles raised and she was letting out a low, continuous growl. "Grrrr..."

Graham didn't growl, but he could feel adrenaline rushing through his body and making his heart race. Blood wasn't the only thing rushing through his veins--Graham could feel magical power simmering through his body, just waiting to be used if he willed it. Arcane fire burned within him and begged to be unleashed, but he kept it tightly controlled. If he decided to, he could easily send out a wave of fire to scorch this whole wolfpack that had surrounded him and Sticks, or at very least he could put flames across his fur in such a display of strength that surely these wild creatures would be the ones running in fear.

If they had really tried to attack, Graham would have used his magic instantly, but now there was a tense standoff. Sticks' presence was reassuring as she stood right beside him, their bodies lightly touching as they both glared out at the wolfpack that had surrounded them. The large, light-grey wolf let out a low growl targeted right at Graham, which made him growl back softly, but it didn't attack him.

Graham didn't feel fear like how he had with the bear, but certainly he felt confusion. They were outnumbered two to six, yet... what was going on? To be chased through the forest, surrounded, and now threatened--it was something that wolves did to their prey, but they were all wolves here. Why would wolves attack other wolves? Was it territorialism? Had Sticks actually been a trespasser on other wolves' territory, and now they were both being threatened for their incursion into this wolfpack's lands? Graham glanced around at other wolves, and as the wind slowly shifted, he sniffed deeper and got more information from his nose.

There were the two larger wolves who had been leading the chase and were now the readiest to attack--from their scents, Graham could tell they were a pair of male and female--the pack leaders.

Then there were the two slightly smaller, juvenile wolves who looked so identical--both of those wolves were male, likely brothers and littermates? Beyond looks, even their smells were so similar that at a distance Graham found it impossible to tell them apart. Those two were watching Graham and Sticks with their ears perked up attentively, and they both paced around energetically, yet they weren't growling and didn't seem properly prepared to attack. They looked youthful and inexperienced, unlike those first two large wolves who were confident and powerful.

And then there was that much older looking wolf--a female, by her scent--who had streaks of silver and grey in her fur. She looked old, yet certainly not frail or elderly. A matriarch, perhaps? But not the leader, not the alpha wolf. The alphas were clearly those two large wolves, given how they were leading this standoff and how all the other members of the pack looked to them for guidance.

Last of all, there was that youngest wolf, a female, with grey fur but with eyes of cool blue. Graham didn't know what to think except that she was clearly a pup. That was a wolf puppy, obviously not fully grown yet from the dimensions of her limbs and how fuzzy her fur was, but at least old enough to be mostly keeping up with the rest of the pack as they hunted. Even as he kept his magic ready to use, Graham very much doubted he had the cold-heartedness to fireblast a young wolf puppy. Her tail wagged furiously and she panted with her tongue dangling out her mouth, still eagerly trying to catch her breath from the exhaustion of the chase.

Graham took a deep breath. This wasn't just a wolfpack, it was a family--a family of wolves comprised of two parents, two adolescent brothers, an older grandmother or aunt, and finally a young juvenile sister to complete the pack of six. Just from their scents at a distance, Graham could smell the similarities and the kinship. The elder matriarch smelled slightly different and was perhaps a more distant relative, but all the other wolves of this pack were clearly a close family.

And then came the realization.

His nose was also detecting a seventh scent, but Graham had become so familiar with that smell that he hadn't even thought about it--Sticks. And she smelled like them too. This wasn't any random wolfpack. This was Sticks' wolfpack. This was her family.

Graham almost laughed when suddenly he understood what was happening. Earlier he'd made various assumptions about Sticks--he had assumed she was a dominant alpha, and that she was a lone wolf roaming on her own without a pack, but neither of those assumptions had been true. Here was the rest of her pack, and here were the real alphas. Even as Sticks bared her teeth fiercely and kept growling, the larger dark-grey wolf didn't attack her and kept trying to growl specifically at Graham, but not at Sticks, because that was her father. Standing opposite to surround them, the other large, grey wolf glaring at Graham was Sticks' mother, and they didn't approve of his presence.

Graham was an intruder in this territory, but Sticks wasn't. Roaming through the woods, she had found him, but instead of summoning her pack to chase off this intruding werewolf, she had been curious and tolerated his presence. Then they'd hunted together, fought together, even mated together--and now they were facing the consequences. If it weren't for the potential threat of being attacked, Graham would have laughed. Out in the forest as a werewolf, he'd managed to get himself pulled right into the middle of some family drama.

The larger, dark-grey male wolf tried again to move around Sticks to get at Graham, but Sticks shifted to keep herself in the way. Both wolves growled at each other, but neither attacked nor even approached close. This whole standoff felt more like a quarrel than a fight.

Graham wasn't scared. Just earlier in the night he had fought of a huge bear that probably weighed as much as every wolf in this clearing combined, but he didn't know if he could solve this problem in the same way. Sure, he could blast flame magic until the whole wolfpack was fleeing with their scorched tails between their legs, but this was Sticks' family, and he didn't get the sense that was what she wanted. Even if he just tried to scare and not injure them, that didn't seem like the correct solution.

That rebellious, independence-seeking, bossy young adult female wolf who had dragged him into this whole mess was still right beside him, with their sides touching as they both faced opposite directions, surrounded by the pack. Sticks kept growling, and Graham really wished that he had some way to communicate properly with her, because this was all her fault and he would have liked to ensure she was fully aware of that fact. This was obviously Sticks' family and her pack, and they were being territorial about the arrival of a newcomer wolf on their territory, which was why they were trying to run him off--except that Sticks had complicated everything by aiding and abetting the intruder, and now she was choosing to take his side and defend him even against her own family.

Graham breathed deeply. He could smell his own scent on Sticks' fur, and her scent on his own. Just as he could smell the wolfpack, they could smell him, which meant there was no hiding what he and Sticks had done with each other. The two large alpha wolves did not look happy, but they didn't advance--Sticks' father was held off by not wanting to attack his own daughter, yet in the other direction, Sticks' mother had a clear path to attack Graham but she just growled and watched him suspiciously. Graham hadn't done anything yet, but now he wondered if the wolves could somehow tell he wasn't _quite_like them.

Meanwhile, Sticks' two younger brothers looked anxious and tense as they surrounded them. When Graham shifted his glare to one of them, the young male wolf ducked his head submissively, before quickly glancing around at the other pack members for reassurance. They wouldn't dare to attack first, but they would join in to help if their alphas started a fight. On the other hand, the young wolf pup--Sticks' much younger sister--panted cheerfully and had sat back on her haunches, with her wagging tail clearing snow from a small area behind her. She had her head raised and eagerly met Graham's gaze, not in a challenging way but with bright-eyed curiosity.

After a moment the eldest wolf--the old female with silvery fur--let out a huff that sounded faintly amused. "Hffr." Strolling forward lazily, she moved past the lead male. Sticks watched her warily, but the elder didn't move to attack, nor did she put herself in the centre to diffuse the conflict. Rather, she walked over to where Graham had dropped the backpack in the snow a short distance away. Sniffing at the pack, she could clearly smell the food within, because she dragged it over for further investigation. Graham winced inwardly at the thought of his backpack being torn open by a hungry wolf, but instead the elder matriarch inspected the strap holding it shut before nimbly using her jaws on the buckle--she didn't even try to break it with her bite, but she precisely used her teeth on the release catches and it came open easily. "Hrrr." The old wolf made a low noise--not a threating growl, but a faint rumble of satisfaction.

With an almost casual motion, the silvery furred wolf flipped open the backpack's top flap with her snout and began nosing through the contents. One of the metal meal tins toppled out, spilling the food it had continued. Whereas the two alpha wolves kept up their threat posture as they surrounded Graham and Sticks, and the two youthful brothers also held position, the juvenile wolf pup let out a yip and scampered over at the sight and smell of food. "Yieip!" She sniffed at the food then excitedly tapped her paws against the snow and jumped up and down several times, as if hardly able to believe her luck.

The meal was frozen cold and spilled out onto the snow, but immediately Sticks' young sister began eagerly and noisily tucking in. The two twin brothers immediately looked tempted, and their attention which had been fully focused on Sticks and Graham started wavering as they threw sideways looks towards the food. The lead two wolves also took in this development, though they didn't immediately react. Was fighting more important than food? Fighting was for territory, but the use of territory was for hunting food.

The elder wolf used her paw to pull out more containers of food, and Graham saw one of the adolescent male wolves begin visibly salivating, though he remained surrounding Graham and Sticks, not daring to be distracted if their alphas were still calling for a confrontation. What finally ended the standoff was when the elder wolf also bent down and started eating the food.

"Rufff! Rrr...!" The dark-grey, male alpha wolf let out a sharp, disapproving bark. There was a hierarchy to be respected, which meant certain members of the pack had priority to eat.

"Hnng?" The elder obediently lifted her head away from the food, but she let out a replying whine and her message was clear--there's food to be eaten here, and you lot are just busy growling at each other?

The male alpha wolf glared at Graham one last time, before finally he let out a low rumbly sound that sounded almost resigned. "Rrrfum." The noise wasn't for Graham though, but it was a signal to the rest of the pack.

Instantly both the brothers broke formation to sprint in unison towards the backpack, where they joined their younger sister in eagerly scarfing down the food. Sticks' father also moved towards them, though he kept a weary, distrustful eye on Graham. The large, female alpha wolf continued her watch for a moment, then she also moved to join her pack. The alphas stood protectively around their pack, letting the younger wolves eat first, and they both kept glaring at Graham.

Graham refused to lower his tail or his body, but he did apologetically avert his gaze out of a sense of apologetic, mutual respect. He wasn't trying to displace this wolfpack from their territory here in the forest, and he was therefore happy to give up some packed meals if it was the necessary means to conflict resolution. By yielding the food, they were essentially admitting that this wolfpack had supremacy over this territory and it was still their hunting grounds, even though neither Graham nor Sticks were physically showing submissiveness.

And as fiercely as Sticks had been growling and trying to assert her independence, she wasn't arrogant or selfish enough to try and hold their claim on the food. She could have joined in with her family, but instead she chose Graham over her former pack. No fighting, no arguing, no tearful goodbyes, not even any words to be said--this was a family, but wolves were not humans. There was just a silent, unspoken understanding between Sticks and her two parents, her former alphas, that she was moving on.

The young wolf puppy didn't quite get the message. She had been enthusiastically gnawing on a chicken leg that that was cooked but frozen solid, however now she cocked her head confusedly on seeing Sticks away from the pack and not eating, standing beside some new, strange, unknown wolf. Hopping up on her four gangly limbs, she grabbed the chicken leg in her jaws and scampered over to Sticks before anyone else could stop her. The young pup dropped the chicken leg right at her older sister's paws and beamed up at her, panting happily with her tongue dangling from her mouth. Bending down, Sticks affectionately licked at her young sister's face.

"Arf!" The young pup then curiously turned to try and sniff at Graham--but she didn't even get close because her mother had rushed over and bit her by the scruff, to drag her away despite several complaining yips. "Eehhh! Yeiip!"

Sticks bent down and picked up the chicken leg in her jaws, then she backed away slowly even as her family and former packmates tucked in. Graham followed after her, and the snow made their footsteps silent as they moved away from the wolfpack. The two twins and the young puppy occasionally threw glances their way, while the three adult wolves were allowing the younger wolves to eat first and were still standing on guard even as Sticks and Graham made their retreat.

Then Sticks' father raised his head and let out a long, mournful howl. "Awwwoooooo!" All the rest of the wolfpack also joined in, adding their own voices in an overlapping harmony of howls. "Owoowwwwwo!" "Awooo!"

Graham and Sticks were almost completely obscured by trees now, but Sticks hesitated and put down the chicken leg she was carrying in her jaws. Without raising her head and barely even opening her mouth, she let out a soft sound. "Awo..." Then she glanced at Graham, as if for reassurance.

"Woo?" Graham tried. "Woo, awo."

That seemed to satisfy her. Sticks' tail let out a slight wag and she picked up the chicken leg again, then they got moving again.

In the end, they just went back to the campsite. Pawprints were visible throughout the camp showing that Sticks' former pack had run through here, tracking Graham and Sticks by their scents, but the snowfall was starting to intensify, and that would eventually bury away all the prints.

Graham slumped down tiredly next to the campfire, before reigniting the firewood with a minor wave of his paw. "Moctus. Ooh, that was stressful. That was... that was just as stressful as getting mauled by that bear, oddly enough."

"Ruff." Sticks sat down beside him, then she flopped sideways to lean against Graham. The wolf began gnawing at the frozen chicken leg, then she put it down between Graham's forepaws and nudged him with her nose. "Muff."

"No thank you," Graham replied. "Or did you just want me to heat that up for you?" He picked up the chicken leg and put it closer to the fire. "Moctus..." With a precise exertion of power, he pulled flames from the campfire and folded them over the meat. It took cautious, focused effort to provide enough heat while still restraining the flames so it didn't thoroughly burn the meat. When the chicken leg was warmed up and steaming hot, Graham picked it up with his jaws and gave it back to Sticks. "Here."

Sticks licked affectionately at his face, then she started eating the food. Meanwhile Graham sat up and frowned curiously at the wild wolf. "So... it turns out that you aren't actually an alpha wolf, are you?"

"Rhoff. Rrr..." Sticks briefly stopped eating and instead half growled at Graham before playfully biting at his throat.

"Haha. Or maybe you are an alpha now, because you keep trying to boss over me." Graham took a moment to reflect over what had just happened with the wolfpack, but he wasn't sure what really to think. "Being a wolf isn't as straightforward as I thought it would be. It's been more exciting, but also so much more dramatic than I'd expected." Yawning widely, he rolled over onto his back and stretched out. "It's kind of late at night, isn't it? I get that wolves are nocturnal and we're supposed to be active at night, but is taking a nap still allowed? Because I could sure use a rest--hey!"

Graham was not going to get his rest, because Sticks had eaten about half of the chicken leg and now she was hungry for a different sort of meat. Again Graham made a reflexively attempt to protect his modesty, and again Sticks just ignored his half-hearted attempt to push her snout away from his groin. "Grrr..."

"We already did that," Graham pointed out, but when Sticks rolled to her feet and turned away to present her undertail to him, the young werewolf also stood up. He sniffed at her, and her scent turned him on. "Is your idea of foreplay just lapping at my crotch then raising your tail at me? You're very direct about what you want. Are all wolves like this, or is it just you? I think it's just you. Though I guess I can't complain since it seems to work."

"Ruuff!" Sticks wagged her tail even as she held it raised, and she did a little wiggle of her body in a demanding way, as if to say, hurry up.

"Is that what I am to you? Good for food, fire, friendship, and for a hard fuck?" Darting forward, Graham moved as quickly as Sticks had--he mounted her in an instant, clutching her around the waist as the tip of his rapidly growing erection prodded at her behind. Again he felt nothing but fur for a few seconds, before Graham found himself pressing against that spot of warmth and wetness again. "Fine by me."

The werewolf slammed his hips forward, shoving himself into the wolf's ready depths. The sudden penetration made them both sound out--Sticks let out a pleasured grunt, while Graham gasped softly. "Hff."

"Ahh. That really is a very pleasant feeling," Graham mumbled, as instinct took control and he began madly, desperately humping. Unlike before, there was no hesitation or doubt as the two animals coupled. This time Graham didn't bother to hold himself back in the slightest. He followed the mindless instinct to move his hips and he chased the pleasure until it built up into an overwhelming, unstoppable sensation within him.

Sticks raised a foreleg and stomped it against the snow, and she arched her back to press against Graham's rapid thrusts. She clenched around his length, and each thrusting movement sent a jolt of intense pleasure up his spine. His whole body felt like it was tingling with energy, with all trace or injury or tiredness forgotten already. Again the base of his erection started to swell up, and Sticks' muscles tightened and squeezed down especially right behind that bloating bulb, capturing it and fully assuring that her partner wouldn't pull out till he had thoroughly mated her.

Graham obliged that mating instinct. His whole length felt exquisitely sensitive and swollen from blood flow, and the pleasure grew so all-encompassing that he couldn't even bear to keep moving. His tail pointed straight out behind him, and his hackles all raised up as his whole body tensed up. His hindlegs trembled as he shoved himself as deep as he could go and just held still there, riding out that rising wave of pleasure until it exploded out of his groin. "Hrrrghhh..." A low, guttural sound rolled out from his throat, an involuntary vocal expression of the bliss that flowed through him.

Standing firm beneath his weight, Sticks panted quickly, and her muscles were clenching down in a rhythmic, atrociously stimulating manner that only intensified the pleasure that came with every shot of seed he pumped into her. This was Graham's second release of the night, yet this time it was even better. The campfire flicked and then flared up, with the flames glowing bright and hot as his magic involuntarily affected it.

From before, Graham knew what was coming. That initial rush of intense sensation lasted for a short while, before it faded down to gentle waves of pleasure that came at a longer interval of a few seconds. His erection still twitched with every wave, pumping yet more of his seminal fluids into his lupine partner. "Just like before? Ohh, yeah it's still going... Being a wolf is weeirrd. Ahhh." Graham slumped down as the tension drained from his body and the overwhelming pleasure calmed down to something more manageable. Sticks was still panting, and she shifted underneath his mass.

"Do you want me to...?" Graham started to ask, then he decided to try it. He slid his upper body sideways to drop both his forepaws to the ground, and then he cautiously turned himself around. To get to position the young werewolf had to raise a hindleg and swing it over Sticks' body, and he could clearly feel his erection twisting and rotating inside Sticks' depths--her muscles were still clamped tight against his penis, keeping him trapped inside all that wonderfully warmth though there was still enough loose slippery softness for him to pivot around.

Finally Graham was standing directly behind Sticks, with their furry butts touching and his erection going right backwards behind his hindlegs and still buried inside her. All the while those pulses of pleasure kept coming every few seconds, making his body shudder and his groin muscles clench, while keeping his mind blanketed by a general sensation of satisfaction and bliss. And then he just had to wait it out, standing in this canine mating posture, feeling his orgasm and ejaculation drag on slowly over the course of many minutes. "Sticks..."

Sticks turned her body slightly and glanced over her shoulder when she heard Graham moan her name. "Hmmf?" She replied with a soft huff, then they both had to ride out the process as it continued.

Even as the pleasure made his head spin, Graham felt powerful, unstoppable, dominant because Sticks was an alpha wolf, and by mating with her that made him an alpha wolf too--they were both the alphas in their tiny wolfpack of two. Instinctually he almost wanted to just howl victoriously, but instead all he did was groan.

When many minutes later, the waves of pleasure faded and his erection started to soften, Graham finally slipped out of Sticks and stumbled a few steps away. His erection flipped back forward between his legs, sending a splatter of bodily fluids against the snow and making him shudder from slight oversensitivity.

Sticks sniffed at her rear, then she licked at herself before shaking all over. Graham could feel the contentment radiating from the wild wolf. She flopped onto her side next to the campfire, staring at him with her tongue dangling out. "Ruff."

Graham nudged some more firewood into the campfire, then he went to sit down beside Sticks. It was comforting to lean against her, feeling the soft sensation of her fur against his--two warm bodies together on a cold winter night, even as snow continue to fall down around them. "If you don't feel like taking a nap, maybe we just... go for a walk around the forest? Not to hunt, but just to pass the time?" Graham suggested,

Sticks didn't appear interested. But she also did not appear satisfied with just calmly sitting together by a campfire, and only a minute later she was playfully nosing and nudging at Graham.

"Again? Really? You're insatiable, you pesky creature," Graham muttered, as Sticks made it amply clear that she wanted more sex. "There's a limit! I can't keep going all night," Graham told her, though perhaps that wasn't true because even after just having finished, he could feel stirrings of arousal within himself again, coaxed out by the enticing scent coming from Sticks. Perhaps it was just werewolf regenerative ability doing its thing, not just quickly fixing wounds but providing more endurance too.

"Grrr... Yaaff!" Sticks made a demanding noise, and then she leapt to her feet and presented herself again. Graham responded as ordered.

They did not leave the camp the whole night, but still they got a rigorous, strenuous workout. Neither wolf nor werewolf would rest until many hours later, when even through the thick winter clouds, the sky started to come alight as dawn approach.

When Graham awoke, he found himself covered by soft, furry warmth--he was lying on top of his sleeping bag, with Sticks sprawled over him like a blanket, both of them huddled together inside the tent. Sticks was still fast asleep, and Graham continued drifting in and out slumber for a while more. Lazily he patted Sticks' side and her head, running his hands through her soft, thick fur. Everything was warm and comfortable.

Suddenly his brain put several things together and Graham crashed into full wakefulness. "Wait...!" Snapping his eyes open with a soft gasp, he hurriedly raised his forelimbs and found that they were hands, not paws. Graham wiggled his fingers disbelievingly, then he frantically felt up the rest of his body--arms, chest, neck head--and it was all human. He was back to normal.

Graham touched his face and he felt rough, unkept stubble covering his chin and cheeks, instead of the thick, soft fur that had covered him all over yesterday. Instead of a wolf snout he had a normal nose and mouth. Grinning widely, Graham chuckled with relief. "Haha. I'm back! I'm back to normal!"

Sticks was still lying atop his supine body, and now the wild wolf stirred. Blinking her yellow eyes open, she raised her head and frowned sleepily at the human she was sprawled over.

"Uhhh..." Graham made an uncertain sound as realization set in--he was sharing a tent with a wild creature. Two wolves being companions was no unusual feat, but a wolf and a human was quite different. "So, this is awkward."

"Pah. Rufff." Sticks didn't seem to mind. She didn't even seem surprised. She sniffed at Graham's armpit then placed a sloppy lick across his neck and face. This works for me, was the general impression he got from her. Closing her eyes to go back to sleep, Sticks slumped heavily down over his chest again, making him grunt.

"Huh. Haha..." Graham laughed, and he wiped away the drool that Sticks' lick had left on his face. He began trying to slowly extricate himself from underneath her--Sticks let out a few grumbling moans and she half-heartedly tried to cling onto Graham and prevent him from moving, but eventually he managed to free himself and sit up inside the small tent. "Ok. So... so. Uh..."

The young man was still trying to process and understand his situation, when sound came from outside. The tent flap was loosely closed, but Graham heard tapping from outside, like wood being struck against wood. "Twack, twack." Pushing to a crouch, Graham moved towards the tent's exit when the feeling of icy air over his skin made him realize just how naked he was.

Quickly looking around the tent, Graham grabbed his pants and his winter outer coat and hurriedly threw them on. When he stepped over Sticks, she half-heartedly made an attempt to grab his leg and pull him back down into a snuggle--Graham's response was to pat her on the head, but to pull his leg free.

"Twack, twack, twack." The noise of wood against wood came again, but closer this time. Graham couldn't find his boots, but with his pants and winter coat he was already partially covered from the cold. Still standing inside the tent, he opened the entrance flap to stick his head out and look around.

Everything outside--firewood, backpacks, the tent itself--was covered in a blanket of white, even as more snowflakes continued gently drifting from above. Graham took a few seconds to take in the scene, then that tapping sound made him turn his head.

Someone was approaching. A figure was moving through the forest, carrying a wooden hiking stick. As that person walked closer, they casually struck the stick against a nearby tree, deliberately making noise. "Twack."

At first Graham wondered if his friends and fellow apprentice magicians had returned, but there was only one person. As the new arrival approached, Graham saw that it was a middle-aged woman draped in thick winter clothing. He would have guessed her age as somewhere from late-forties to mid-fifties, though she moved forward through the snow without any trouble at all.

As she got closer, the woman pushed back the hood of her winter cloak, revealing dark black hair that had some streaks of silvery grey. He didn't recognize her face. She was wearing a backpack on her shoulders, and she raised her stick in a wave and smiled warmly at Graham. "Good afternoon!"

"Hello?" The thick clouds overhead and the gentle continuous snowfall made it hard to immediately tell the time. Graham glanced down at his wristwatch, which was still strapped to his wrist--the timepiece indicated that yes, he had slept through the entire morning and it was now afternoon. Graham hesitantly waved back. Then he stuck his hands in his winter coat's pockets--without his gloves the air was very cold against his skin, even though he was still mostly within his tent.

Strolling into the forest clearing, the woman jabbed her walking stick into the snow where it stayed standing, before walking closer. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything. You look like you just woke up."

This was the first human contact Graham had had in several days, and he was briefly lost for words. "I..." he began to say, but before he could continue, Sticks pushed between his legs to see what was going on.

Squinting around, the wolf immediately locked her gaze onto the middle-aged woman and she growled softly. "Grrr..."

Graham hurriedly tried to think up a good excuse for why he had a wild wolf sharing his tent, but the woman showed no fear. Instead she reacted by strolling closer and dropping to crouch on one knee. "Did you just wake up too? What are you growling at me for?" Snatching off a glove, the middle-aged woman reached one hand towards Sticks.

Sticks padded forward out of the tent, and immediately Graham worried that she was going to bite at this stranger's outstretched hand, but instead the woman let Sticks sniff at the back of her hand and her fingers. "Grrrrrr--pah." Cutting off her growl with a dismissive snort, Sticks turned around and squeezed between Graham's legs to go back into the tent. You woke me up for nothing, was the general sense Graham got from the wolf, and he heard her slump back down onto the sleeping bag to rest again.

The woman's smile widened slightly, and she stood up again. Seeing the way Graham was staring at her confusedly, she stepped closer and extended her hand towards him. Hesitantly he reached out his own hand to make a handshake, but the woman's grip was unexpectedly firm and she pulled his hand upwards to sniff at it. "Heh." She chuckled as if something was very amusing, before giving his hand a proper shake. "We've met before, of course, but it's nice to finally make some introductions. I'm Juniper. Juniper McWestin. And who are you?"

"Uh... I'm..." Graham tried hard to recall where he might ever have met this person before, but his memories came up blank. "I'm Graham. We've met before?"

"We certainly did." Juniper was still holding Graham in a handshake, and now she tilted her hand and raised it up, as if inviting him to kiss the back of her hand.

Graham hesitantly bowed his head to do so, but then he caught a faint trace of scent on her skin which made his eyes widened. "Wait, what?" Almost touching his nose against the woman's hand, he sniffed deeper and realized that he recognized that smell--it was one of the scents he had detected yesterday during the encounter with the wolfpack. Back then he had been in wolf form and his nose had been sensitive enough to detect the scent at a distance, whereas now in human form he needed to be much closer to pick up on that scent, but it was distinctly the exact same scent which had been coming from the oldest wolf--the elder female who had streaks of silver in her fur, which Graham now recognized as similar to the streaks of silver in Juniper's hair. "How come you...? You're the...? That was you?!"

Taking back her hand, Juniper nodded. "It seems you do remember me."

Graham's jaw was half open from surprise. "But... wait, what? You're a... a... werewolf?"

"Yes. As are you too, obviously. Why do you look so shocked?"

"Ehh I... wah..." Graham moved his mouth, but all he made were several incoherent noises. Finally he manged to find the words he wanted. "What?!"

Juniper looked amused. Turning around, she unslung her backpack, which made Graham realize it was his backpack. "This is yours, by the way. I came to give it back, and to check up on how you two young ones are doing. Thanks for the food."

Graham took his backpack disbelievingly. "But I... yesterday, why didn't you...? You never said anything. I thought you were just another wild wolf, same as all those other wolves!"

Juniper's response was to shrug. "You didn't say anything either. I thought you wanted to resolve it like you were really a wolf. Plenty of werewolves like the roleplay, and strictly conform to the behavioural norms of the form they are taking." Stepping back, she frowned at Graham. "You still look very surprised. And young. I gather you don't have much experience with other werewolves?"

"I've never met another werewolf in my life. You're the first werewolf I've ever met."

Now Juniper looked surprised too. The middle-aged woman folded her arms. "Really? That can't be right. Who turned you?"

"Turned me?" Graham asked.

Juniper gestured up and down Graham's body. "Turned you into a werewolf. Someone must have bitten you or done something else that lets you do this." As she was speaking, Juniper raised her hand and suddenly her limb was covered in fur and looked like a wolf's paw, though the rest of her stayed human.

"No one bit me. I don't know why or how I'm a werewolf," Graham muttered. He pointed towards Juniper's limb. A few days ago he would have been shocked to see such a transformation, but now he was just curious. "How did you do that? You can control it?"

"Oh, dear." Juniper's paw rippled and twisted and suddenly it was back to being a human hand. "Oh, dearie, me. Young man, you can't control your transforms?"

"I... I don't know. Yesterday that was the first time I ever turned into a werewolf," Graham admitted, which instantly made Juniper groan dramatically.

"Oohhh, no! Oh, no, no, no. You're joking? No? You're honestly telling me that this was your first transform, and you were all alone out here without even knowing who turned you?" Putting her hands on her hips, the woman tutted. "Tsk tsk. This must be very confusing for you, then."

Graham nodded his head. "I know nothing, and I am very confused."

"Drat. It should be the responsibility of whichever werewolf turned you to have explained things to you. That's why I've never turned anyone--it's just bothersome, having all that responsibility." Juniper bit her lip and frowned at Graham, then she turned around and walked towards the extinguished campfire. "Blast, well now that responsibility is going to fall to me anyway, I suppose. I can see you have some questions. Why don't we get this fire started, then we can sit down, warm up, and have a little chat."

"Yes, yes please. I would like some answers," Graham agreed.

The older werewolf carefully dropped to her knees and began adding fresh firewood into the campfire, arranging it into a neat circle inside the stones. Just looking at her, Graham could see no obvious indication that she was anything other than just a normal woman who had happened to be walking through the forest, but he had smelt and he had seen that she was different, just as he was. Juniper was dressed in normal clothing for the weather--a thick winter outercoat sewn from fur, long, insulating pants, and worn but still functional leather boots. All that thick clothing made the outline of her body hard to discern, though overall she looked thin but not bony, and in height she was about a head shorter than Graham.

With the firewood arranged to her satisfaction, Juniper sat back on her ankles and turned to Graham. "Where's your firelighter? You use matches, or do you have a fire striker?"

"Neither. I am a firelighter." Graham extended the index and middle fingers of both hands, then he crossed his wrists across his chest in a gesture of power. "Moctus." Magic flared out from the young magician in a burst of colour, jumping the short distance towards the campfire and setting it alight in an instant.

Juniper leapt to her feet, and now she was the one looking shocked. "By the high emperor's tail! You're a sorcerer?" she asked with eyebrows raised.

"I'm a mage, not a sorcerer. Technically I'm an apprentice magician, with elemental affinity to flame." Graham was still standing half crouched inside his tent, and he gestured his thumb roughly towards the east. "I'm from the RoyMag--the Academy."

Juniper nodded. "Ah, of course. You're from the big sorcerer school right next to the city."

Graham shook his head. "No, it's... not a sorcerer school. Sorcery is just a single field of magic. The Royal Academy of Magic has many departments, and I'm an elemental mage."

"Bahaha." With a bark of laughter, Juniper used her boot to clear the snow from a portion of the rock outcropping, then she sat down next to the campfire and removed her other glove to warm her hands against the fire. "I'll have to take you word for it, kid. But you're something unusual--I don't know of any other werewolf who is also a magician. In fact, I've heard that being both at once is impossible since lycanthropy is already a type of magic itself." Juniper waved her hand vaguely in Graham's direction. "Don't know if that fact is true. You're the mage, so you might know better. I'm just a normal old werewolf. Why don't you come sit by the fire and we have us a chat?"

"Alright." Graham had been half crouched inside the tent. Standing hunched over was not a comfortable position, however his boots were elsewhere in the campsite, partially buried by the layer of snow that had built up overnight and through the morning. Graham tried to walk over to get his boots, but the snowy ground was painfully cold against his exposed feet. He gasped as it felt like frozen needles of ice were jabbing into his soles and leeching away precious warmth. "Cold. Very cold... Ahh!" Graham groaned as he tumbled forward, because suddenly his legs didn't seem to be working right. He fell flat, landing on his front but with his fall cushioned by the snow.

"Careful there," Juniper muttered drily.

Graham tried to push himself up, but abruptly he felt shifting power running through his form, originating in his feet but then travelling upwards. "No, wait," he said, not that telling his body to do something ever had any effect. "Damn it...!" This was the first time he had been awake and conscious for a full werewolf transformation. It took no more than ten seconds--Graham shivered and shuddered as the powerful alterations distorted his body. It didn't hurt, but he couldn't control it as it happened.

When it was finally over, Graham was once again in the quadrupedal, furry form that he had become so familiar with over the previous day. With thick grey fur covering his whole body, the winter chill no longer bothered him, not that he'd had any choice about it. "Oh, I'm a wolf again."

Juniper had been watching him, and now she leaned back against the rock outcropping, looking amused. "Did you mean to do that?"

"No." Graham struggled out of his pants and outercoat, which now didn't fit the dimensions of his transformed body. His fluffy tail was especially squashed up against his back, and it felt good to be free of clothing that was now inappropriate for him. He walked forward on all fours and then sat down next to the fire, ninety degrees from where Juniper was sitting. For a moment he felt awkward about being in wolf form around another human, but if there was anyone else who might understand what he was going through, it was another werewolf. "That would be my first question. How do I... how do I control this?"

Before the older werewolf could respond, Sticks stuck her head out of the tent to see what was going on. Noticing the fire was going, she padded over and then slumped down heavily against Graham's side, pushing him over so she could use him like a pillow. "Oof. Hey."

Juniper laughed, and she gestured towards Graham. "Goodness, seeing you two does warm my heart. Alright then, so learning to control a transform is nothing but practice. It's easier to be in wolf form closer to the full moon, and it's easier to be in human form closer to new moon. But if you have enough control, you can take either form whenever you want. You can even do half forms." Reaching up to her throat, the middle-aged woman pulled down the zipper of her winter coat a few inches--at first Graham thought she was wearing a second coat inside the first, but then he realized it was fur. Though she otherwise appeared fully human, her chest (and perhaps other, hidden areas under her winter clothing) were partially transformed and were covered in thick, greyish wolf fur.

Graham stared. He wasn't interested in Juniper's bust, though she had one--but she was also old enough to have been his mother, which put her distinctly out of the range for any lust he might have felt. Rather, Graham was intrigued to have met another werewolf, and he hungered for more information. "Who... are you?" he asked slowly.

Juniper smoothly zipped her coat back up and leaned back against the rocks again. "Juniper McWestin, as I said before."

"And you're a werewolf."

"Yes."

A concerning thought occurred to Graham. "Yesterday, the rest of that wolfpack--were... were they all werewolves?" He used his paw to gesture towards Sticks as she lay resting against his side. "Is... is _she_a werewolf too?" he hissed.

Juniper chortled loudly, and she slapped her hand against her knee. "Hoho. No, they're not. It's only you and me who are werewolves. The rest of the wolves who live in this forest are just wolves... mostly."

"Mostly?" Graham prompted.

"They aren't purely wolves. I'd say they're a mixed breed. Living this close to the city, there is the occasional crossover between a wolf and a stray dog," Juniper explained. "There is also a little bit of dire wolf in the ancestry of these wolves, from deeper in the forest, and maybe even a little werewolf ancestry. You're definitely not the first lycan to mate with a wolf, of course."

"Uh...!" Graham twitched, which made Juniper laugh again.

"Hahaha. I'm not the sort to judge what you want to do with your free time." Juniper gestured towards herself. "I do love coming out here to the forest, just to get a feel of the wild. I've certainly had my own fair share of wild romantic conquests, so I say you can do what you want."

Graham awkwardly glanced around, avoiding eye contact. He spotted his water bottle that had been partially buried in the snow since yesterday, and he dug it out. Busying himself with trying to unscrew the cap with his paws, he hurriedly tried to change the topic away from what he and Sticks had been doing last night. "You don't live out here in the wilderness?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. I live in Tiwani, and I work at the docks as a senior custom inspector. But once or twice every year, I like to come out to the woods to take a little vacation. The local wolf pack knows me and they tolerate my presence, especially because I bribe them with some food when I first arrive." Leaning forward, Juniper took the water bottle from Graham and helped him to open the lid, before giving it back to him. Her human fingers had the manual dexterity that his paws lacked.

"So you're a werewolf, but you can still live a normal life. That's... that's encouraging," Graham murmured. He stuck his tongue into his water bottle, but all the water inside had frozen into ice. Calling up the power within him, Graham use a flame spell to begin melting the ice back into liquid.

Seeing him using magic again made Juniper look curious. "It's your turn to answer a question now. Who are you?"

Graham had a brief, mild existential crisis as he glanced over himself. "I'm... Graham Morgan. I'm a senior apprentice magician at the Royal Academy of Magic. I... I don't know why I'm a werewolf. Just a few days ago I finished my exams when suddenly my hand started to change. I don't know how that happened. I don't ever recall anyone biting me."

Juniper tapped at her chin thoughtfully. "Are you an only child?"

Graham nodded. "Yes, why?"

"You might want to ask your parents about your family history. If only one of your parents was a werewolf, normally the children don't inherit lycanthropy. You need both parents to be werewolves for that to happen, but then it becomes very difficult to conceive, so werewolf siblings are quite rare. Even still, children from werewolf parents usually don't immediately exhibit lycanthropy. You might be a late bloomer."

Graham tapped his paws against the snow. "I don't think my parents are werewolves? They're normal people."

"Who are your parents? Do they live in Tiwani? I might know them if they are werewolves," Juniper said.

Graham shook his head. "My parents live in the capital, Kadrin. My father's a magician, and my mother works in the mayor's office." All this was true, but was also an understatement. Graham's father was a magician, and he was a member of the magician's council that directly advised senior imperial leadership on magic-related topics. And Graham's mother worked in the mayor's office because it was her office. Overall, Graham's parents were busy civil servants but also loving parents, and in all their mundanity he couldn't imagine them as being werewolves. At the very least, he would have expected to have heard some political gossip if there were werewolves in high governmental positions. "I don't... think my parents are werewolves?"

"Well either someone turned you into a werewolf, or you were born one. But if I had to bet, I'd say your parents are werewolves and they've been procrastinating on letting you in on the family secret, just in case it turns out you didn't inherit lycanthropy." Juniper looked thoughtful. "There are other ways to identify a werewolf. Have you ever seen your parents eat chocolate?"

"No, my mother's allergic to it, and my father prefers vanilla so... uh..." Graham's voice trailed off and he tilted his head. "Wait. Werewolves can't eat chocolate? Does that mean that _I_can't eat chocolate anymore?"

"You can eat chocolate, but only while in human form. And then you have to wait a few days for it to be flushed from your digestive system before you can turn into wolf form, otherwise the cocoa will poison you."

Graham was disproportionately dismayed to learn about this limitation. "But that sucks! I like chocolate."

"You'll get used to it. There are other things you shouldn't eat--grapes, onions, milk--just to name a few. That's one of the most obvious trade-offs for having two forms--you need to accommodate the needs of both." Juniper shrugged. "Then what happened next? You discovered you were a werewolf, but why are you out here in the forest?"

Graham was still wondering if his parents really were werewolves, but he mentally shelved that line of inquiry and continued his explanation. "My friends gave me some telanium-silver to try and suppress the transformation, but it couldn't reverse it. Then I... I came out here so that I wouldn't harm anyone if I lost control." He paused as another question occurred to him. "Is that a thing? Can werewolves lose control and become violent?"

"No, that's just a stereotype. The old tales and legends of people being attacked by werewolves are actually just stories about people being attacked by normal wolves." Juniper pointed at Sticks, who was still snoozing beside Graham with her chin resting on his back. "Because wild animals are normally not as friendly, intelligent, or tolerant as this. It's only because we have a sizable werewolf community in Tiwani that the wolves in this forest have some familiarity with humans. But as I was saying, no, werewolves don't lose control and become violent. All the werewolves I know are excellent, upstanding members of society."

"And... you know a lot of werewolves? There's a community in Tiwani? How many of us are there?" Graham asked.

Juniper looked thoughtful, and she briefly counted off numbers on her fingers. "In Tiwani, including all the outskirts and surrounding areas, the number is fifteen. There's the Admanza family and the Thompson family, along with a handful of other individuals like myself. And we werewolves usually do try to keep in touch and look out for each other. It's good to keep a pack."

"Fifteen werewolves in the city. That's... more than I expected, but still not that many," Graham murmured. He started drinking from his bottle, since his magic had now melted enough of the ice for there to be liquid water.

Smoothly snapping her fingers, Juniper pointed at Graham. "Sixteen werewolves now, if we count you, living in your magician's academy." A concerned look crossed the woman's face. "Maybe seventeen, depending on whether you managed to turn your friend over there."

"Aaahhkkk!" Graham almost choked on the water he'd been drinking. His coughing made Sticks grunt as she kept resting her head on his side with her eyes closed. "Wait, what?! Is that a joke? You mean wolves can become werewolves too?! I thought it was only humans!"

"Nobody told you anything about werewolves, did they? It works both ways. Humans and wolves can both become werewolves," Juniper said.

Apprehensively glancing at Sticks, who was still napping against him, Graham swallowed nervously. "I never bit her."

Juniper sighed. "This is a prime example of why turning someone is considered a huge responsibility. You need to have things explained. How should I put this? Biting is the most widely known method of transmitting lycanthropy, but it also can spread via sexual contact. Especially if you mate during the full moon, which was last night."

"Oh," Graham murmured soberly. He didn't know how to feel about this.

"The chance of spreading lycanthropy is quite low." Juniper gestured between Graham and Sticks. "If you only had sex once, then odds are almost negligible that you turned your wolf friend into a werewolf just like us. But then you two are young and frisky, so it wasn't just once, was it?"

Graham said nothing, and his silence was enough of a reply. Sticks was still snoozing peacefully, completely uncaring even as Graham worried about the possible long-term consequences of what they had done last night.

Juniper had an amused, though still concerned smile. "Ok, don't worry. Even though you two tried your best, it's still a modestly low chance that you turned her into a werewolf. In fact, it's far more likely that you only got her pregnant."

"Puh?!" A panicked, choked sound came from Graham's throat. "What? What, now?!"

"You didn't know that either? Right now is the time of year for it. The middle of winter is exactly mating season for wolves."

"Oh." Graham stared into the fire, feeling increasingly worried. "Oh, no," he repeated.

"I know your magician school is good for teaching magic, but surely they also taught you basic things like sexual education? Did no one ever teach you what happens if you have sex without using any sort of protection?" Juniper frowned at Graham. "Are you even of age?"

"I'm a senior apprentice magician! Not some junior, not even a midclasser," Graham replied exasperatedly.

Juniper threw up her hands. "That means nothing to me. I don't know how magician training ranks correspond to age, and you do look young to me. So, you're an adult?"

"Yes, I'm an adult! And... and yes, obviously I do know about... about sex and how it's important to use a contraceptive like a protective charm if I'm having sex with another person, but I didn't think that applied last night. It just seemed... wolves don't wear condoms, right? And... and I'm not even a wolf, I'm a werewolf, so I thought I couldn't... I thought that between a werewolf and a wolf, it wouldn't work," Graham sputtered.

"If you're in human form and you fool around with a nice young lady, then you can knock her up. Similarly, if you're in wolf form and you mate with a wolf bitch in heat, you can breed her too. Congratulations on your possible parenthood, because you might have put a whole litter of puppies into your wolf friend there. Your potential offspring would just be normal wolves though, not werewolves."

Graham's ears flattened back against his skull, and his fur puffed up from nervousness. "Oh, I didn't... I did not think that was a possibility. That's... uh..." He sat up straight, which made Sticks grunt as she could no longer use his butt as a pillow and was pushed onto the snow. Graham ignored her grumbling and he waved a paw towards her. "Let me get this straight--there's a good chance that I've turned this wolf into a werewolf, and... and even impregnated her?!"

Juniper nodded. "Yes. It'll be one or the other, though. Not both. For some reason, two werewolves mating with each other usually isn't a fruitful pairing--of the two werewolf families who live in Tiwani, it took them years or even decades to conceive. So, if you happened to turn your friend there into a werewolf, she probably isn't pregnant."

"Which... is better?" Graham asked slowly.

"That depends on your preferred choice of responsibility." Juniper tapper her chest. "Me personally, I've never turned anyone into a werewolf, or had children, because of all that responsibility. That was a deliberate choice I made many, many, many decades ago, and I stick to it even in my advanced age."

"You aren't that old," Graham replied.

Juniper laughed warmly. "Ahaha. You do know how to flatter a lady." She winked at him. "Werewolves undergo magical transformations, so we regenerate from injuries or disease quickly, and you also gain considerable longevity. How old do you think I am?"

Graham shifted his weight, tapping his paws against the snow. "Uh... since you ask, I'd say you look, maybe, late forties? Middle-aged, but not elderly."

"Hahaha. Not even close, though thank you for that. I'm not going to tell you my exact age, though I will say that I did attend the coronation of the current and previous high emperors."

Graham did some quick mathematics in his head. That would make Juniper at least a hundred years old, though she easily looked half that age. And now that he thought about it, all throughout his two decades of life Graham could always remember his parents as looking the same age--was that just because by comparison he had grown far more through his childhood, or were they_actually_ aging slower?

"Regardless, as I was saying, you've got responsibilities ahead of you now." Juniper gestured at Sticks. "Honestly between your two potential outcomes, neither is easy? I'd say you'd better be _hoping_she's pregnant. If you turned her into a werewolf, that is a heavier responsibility."

"How so?" Graham asked. "Wouldn't it be easier to take care of one werewolf, instead of a whole bunch of wolf pups?"

Juniper folded her arms. "Not necessarily. Graham, you need to grasp how significant it is to make a werewolf. Spreading lycanthropy, turning someone into a werewolf, is universally agreed by everyone in the werewolf community to be a very big deal. The powers you have now with two forms--the regeneration, the transformation, the longevity--they change how you must live and who you are. For a human to adapt to the werewolf life is already major enough, but for a wolf to become a werewolf? That's almost never done because of how much trouble it is! Except in this case, you two didn't know any better."

"That wolf and the rest of the wolves in this forest, they are smart, cunning hunters. They have limited experience with human hikers, stray dogs that roam from the city, and even werewolves like me, which makes them more docile or tame than a truly wild wolf, but they are still wild animals." Juniper gestured to Sticks, who was still napping beside Graham. "By turning her into a werewolf, if that has occurred, you've taken a wild animal and added human-level cognition. A natural, beastly mind has been uplifted and granted sapience."

Pushing into a stand, Juniper took a few steps forward and bent down to tap a finger against Graham's fur-covered chest. "You have the body of a wolf right now, but in there, you have the mind of a human. Do you know what that means? Think about all the advanced features of a human mind that we possess, and then know that you might just have shared that to her."

"Intelligence?" Graham asked.

"It's not only about intelligence. I'm talking about... advanced planning and analytical skills, understanding abstract concepts, or having an imagination. Language processing--the ability to hear speech and comprehend that it means something. Or to see written words and understand that they are text patterns that convey meaning. What about social skills, meaning the ability to process emotions or empathize with another person? Children have to learn all these things, but as humans their brains are fundamentally wired so they can develop all these mental skills and fit into society. And now, just maybe, that wolf can do all that too."

Graham had been holding his breath, but he let it out slowly. "But that... is not a bad thing?"

"It's not morally wrong, it's just a huge responsibility." Juniper sat back down beside the campfire, and she again raised her hands to warm them against the fire. "And it's your responsibility. You've put the spark of society in her mind, so you get to integrate her into civilization. If she turns completely and transforms into a human, come the new moon? Then good luck teaching your wolf girlfriend to wear pants."

"Haha. Heh... Uh... Ehh..." Graham chuckled nervously, but then he sighed. "I... I don't even know how to control my own transformations, but now I need to take care of another new werewolf? And here I thought getting mauled by a bear was going to be the highlight of my adventure."

Juniper raised an eyebrow. She stared at Graham for a moment, then at Sticks, then she simply spent a minute staring into the fire, watching the flames flicker. "You're not alone. You're part of a pack now." Leaning back against the rocks, the older werewolf shrugged. "Any more questions?"

"Yes. Uh... how do I change back to human?" Graham asked.

Graham held a small rectangular card in his hands. He flipped it around, rubbed a finger against the printed ink, and even sniffed at the thin material, but as far as he could tell it was just a normal business card. "Juniper McWestin, Senior Customs Inspector, Tiwani Port Authority" read the card, along with an office address and the official emblem of the imperial government.

Graham had kept talking with Juniper for an hour more, asking all sorts of questions about werewolves, but eventually what he needed was not information but instead time to take it all in. Juniper had offered to walk him back to the city, however Graham had declined--his fellow senior apprentice magicians would be coming back for him, and he wanted to wait for them. Instead, Juniper had offered him her name card and told him to get in touch with her when he was back in civilization, and then she'd headed off back to the city first.

It had taken Graham another hour of pacing around the forest clearing before he'd managed to transform back to human form. He didn't have full control over his transformations, but like trying to sneeze on demand, once he felt that inner power started to take hold he could either resist the change or speed it forward. Now the young magician was fully human again, as much as was possible for him now.

Pulling a boot onto his left foot, Graham did up the laces tight, then he snapped a telanium-silver alloy bracelet around his calf. "Hopefully that keeps me in human form, at least for now."

Sticks was awake again, and the wild wolf was sitting in the snow, curiously watching as Graham moved in and out of the tent to find all his clothes and put them all on. Aside from his apparel, Graham also put on the telanium-silver bracelets around his ankles and wrists. He secured the belt around his waist, then also put on the necklace when something else occurred to him.

Crouching down, Graham squinted at Sticks. "Sticks, you... you're still the same, right? I didn't accidentally transform you...? You're just a normal wolf, not a werewolf?"

Scampering forward, Sticks put her paws on his knee and licked at his face affectionately. When she stepped back, her gaze seemed different--there was a comprehension that Graham noticed as she stared at him. Her feral intelligence seemed perhaps just a little less feral than before. She sniffed at Graham's coat, then she nosed curiously at the telanium-silver bands around his wrists.

As a magician, Graham had worked with wands, staffs, and other accessories of telanium-silver, but only now did he actually think to try sniffing at the alloy--he raised his wrist to his nose and sniffed at one of the bracelets, to discover that it smelled faintly like lightning. Meanwhile Sticks experimentally tried biting on the bracelets that was around Graham's ankles, which gave him an idea.

"Curious about that, are you? Maybe just to play it safe..." Reaching up to his neck, Graham removed the necklace. It was a small belt made from soft leather, with small flat studs of telanium-silver alloy inlaid into the material. Sticks sniffed at his fingers, then at the accessory, but she didn't object as he carefully put it around her neck such that it resembled a collar. "Why don't you wear this thing? You don't mind, right?"

Sticks lowered her nose to nudge at the belt now affixed around her neck, then she licked her snout and looked back up at Graham.

Raising his hand, Graham showed Sticks the telanium-silver bracelet he was wearing, which matched with the collar around her neck. "See? We're both the same now. I'm wearing this to try and keep me in human form. Now you're probably not a werewolf, but juuust in case, at least you won't transform."

"Ruff," said the wolf casually, and her tail gave a slight wag. Except this time, the noise sounded too clear and coherent, almost like she was saying the word instead of barking.

"Hmm..." Graham made an uncertain sound.

Sticks rolled about in the snow, then she tried to jump at Graham to pull him down so he would play around with her. Graham patted her on the head and rubbed her belly, but then he frowned again.

EPILOGUE

Graham was in the tent, lying on his front on the sleeping bag and using a pencil to sketch snowflake shapes in his notebook. Right around late afternoon, he heard Sticks bark once, and then came the sound of voices.

"He's really turned!"

"Oh, by the emperor! Graham, is that you? You're so fuzzy! And so fluffy! Awww, look at you!!"

Pushing to his feet, Graham pushed open the tent flap and stepped out into the snow to see two friendly faces--it was Cray and Lilly, his two fellow senior apprentice magicians and roommates. Wearing their own thick winter coats, the two magicians had apparently just arrived at the campsite and met Sticks.

Lilly was standing back, holding onto her wand with both hands and keeping it pointed forward at Sticks. On the other hand, Cray had instantly dropped into a crouch and was trying to give the wolf pets on her head and back. On her part, Sticks was just sitting still and tolerating the pats, but also looking very confused. She glanced at Graham immediately when he came out of the tent, and her baffled gaze simply said, help me.

"Cray? Lilly!" Graham called, and his two friends spun around.

"Graham! It's you! You're not a werewolf!" Cray beamed happily on seeing Graham, but then he frowned and cautiously withdrew his hand from Sticks. "Uh... who is this, then? Is that not...? Oh, I just assumed... ehhh..."

Lilly pointed her wand at Graham, then at Sticks, then she finally lowed her magical tool. "You seem normal. How was the full moon? Did you transform? I assume you did, since..." Lilly waved vaguely at Sticks. "...you made a friend."

"I did transform. Being a werewolf is quite an experience. It's a long story, honestly." Graham strolled over and extended an arm to pull Cray up to his feet, and then his friend pulled him to a quick hug.

"Damn, I was worried about you! Good to see you're safe, and you don't look too worse for wear!" Cray slapped Graham on the back, then he pointed towards Sticks. "So, who's this? You found a dog in the woods? He's so fluffy and adorable! Or is it a she?"

"It's obviously a female, and that's not a dog, that's a wolf," Lilly noted. She nodded at Graham. "I thought you dropped out of arcane zoology in first year? How in the otherworldly plane did you manage to tame a wolf as a familiar?"

"I... Her name is Sticks, and... hmm..." Graham was briefly lost for words as he thought about how to explain this predicament to his friends.

"Oh, that's a bonded familiar?" Cray said. "I thought it was just a friendly wolf pet that Graham had made! That's cool. Very impressive."

"Pfft. No one finds a wild animal in the woods and befriends them," Lilly said with an amused, if misinformed, chuckle. "Can't you sense it? There's a magical bond." Bending down, Lilly scooped up a handful of snow and then she threw it forward with an exhalation of breath that carried a whispered spell phrase. "Germina Lox!"

Summoned by Lilly's magic, a gust caught the snow and swept it forward in a powdery cloud, where it swirled around the camp, forming fractal patterns above the smooth snowy ground. Lilly had cast a simple but useful piece of spellcraft that visualized ley lines in the aethereal flux, essentially highlighting the presence of magic. The swirling, constantly shifting patterns in the snow were concentrated around the three magicians, each with a unique shape as the snowflakes danced around them. However there was also a distinct smaller pattern around Sticks--her pattern was most similar to Graham's, and there was even a faint lines stretching between the two of them, indicating a magical connection.

Standing up, Sticks stared down with an intrigued look, watching as lines of snowflakes continued to spin and swirl. She was even more impressed when she tried moving around and saw that her pattern was following her about. The wolf scampered around in the snow, then spun around and playfully chased her tail, watching as the magical patterns also dance about. She was clearly having fun.

Graham bit his lip. Those patterns in the snow were clear evidence. Every living being, even trees and plants, had some amount of magic within them, yet a regular wild wolf wouldn't normally have enough arcane power to make a noticeable effect on the aethereal flux lines. Even a regular human would barely have a noticeable pattern, and Sticks wasn't a human, yet it seemed like neither was she just a wolf anymore. Nervously Graham fidgeted with the telanium-silver bracelet around his wrist, before snapping his fingers and muttered, "Venatare." A flare of fiery magic flickered from his fingertips, wiping away the miniscule patterns in the snow as he cast a dispersal spell.

Lilly and Cray both looked impressed--not at the dispersal spell, but because they thought Sticks was a familiar. "Graham, how do you manage that?" Lilly asked. "Arcane zoology is my second major, and bonding with an animal to make it your companion familiar is considered a final year project. Most people go with rats, frogs, or lizards, and the extra ambitious kids try for cats or owls. I was planning on a raven, myself. And I have to say, a wolf is quite an accomplishment."

Cray turned to Lilly. "I thought it's just casting a spell to bond with an animal and make it into your familiar? Though I've never taken more than the basic introduction course for arcane zoology. Is the spell harder for a wolf than a rat?"

"The larger the creature and the more significant their mind, the harder it is to create a familiar bond. It's far, far more complex than just storing a load of mana and spending it all to force an animal into submission," Lilly explained. "You can't dominate a familiar--you have to respect it, and it return it respects you, and then the spell links your minds so you can try and give the familiar commands." She shook her head as she stared at Sticks, then glanced at Graham. "How did you do it?"

Graham hadn't turned Sticks into a familiar. What he had done to her was something else entirely. "I... to be honest, I'm not quite sure how it happened either," he finally admitted, after some thought. "When I was a werewolf, I just looked entirely like a proper wolf, so I guess that's how I made a friend? It's complicated."

Cray chuckled. "Hahaha. That's hilarious. I suppose being a werewolf does have its perks, doesn't it?" Stepping closer and bending down, Cray let Sticks sniff at his fingers and then resumed patting her on the head. "Look at you! Cute, friendly, fluffy wolfy familiar! And Graham's even given you a collar. That's adorable. You're going to be the talk of the academy when the other apprentices see you, yes you are! Good wolfy."

"With the full moon over, you can return to the academy now?" Lilly asked. "I'm sure you must be missing home already."

"You have no idea," Graham agreed.

"Let's get this campsite packed up then," Cray said.

Lilly started scattering the campfire and making sure the embers were all properly extinguished, while Cray took down the tent and folded it up again. Meanwhile Graham helped to roll up the sleeping bag and squeeze it back into one of the backpacks. Sticks went over to his side and stuck beside him--she couldn't help him pack up, but she did bump her nose against his waist. "Ruff."

Still mostly focused on packing up, Graham nodded his head and gave her a quick scratch behind the ears. "Yes, yes."

"Ruff," Sticks said again, but this time she got Graham's attention because instead of a bark, the sound seemed to come from inside his head "I like it when you scratch there."

The sleeping bag tumbled from Graham's hands and it unrolled into the snow. Just as Sticks' body was right beside his side, he could now feel a presence in his mind as new, foreign thoughts and emotions brushed his consciousness. It felt like hearing a gramophone recording of his own voice--intimately familiar yet clearly different, in a strange way. "Did you just...?" he hissed, turning to stare at Sticks.

Snapping his mouth shut, Graham let his thoughts push outwards instead. "What?! Why am I hearing you in my head? You're actually a familiar?!!"

Sticks opened her mouth and let out her tongue in a pant, looking perfectly innocent as she stared up at him. "What's a familiar?"

Graham's mouth opened and closed a few times. "Hmmm... Ok, so it seems like in addition to turning you into a werewolf, we might also have created a mind link because I'm a magician. I don't know how to feel about this, Sticks." He could feel a gentle pressure as Sticks peered into his thoughts, curiously trying to decipher what he was telling her.

"I know how I feel, packmate," Sticks replied, and then Graham got a flash of unfocused, unfiltered emotions from the wolf's mind.

There was one main emotion that stood out. "Yeah, I'm hungry too." Graham took a deep breath. "Just... don't worry about it. It seems you're my familiar, or maybe I'm you're familiar? I'm sure everything will be fine," he mentally replied. Then he sighed aloud and ran a hand though his hair.

Cray had finished packing up the tent, and now he strolled over to pick up the sleeping bag. "Are you ok?" he asked Graham.

"I've fine. I just have a lot on my mind," Graham said.

"You sound tired." Holding the rolled up sleeping bag with one arm, Cray patted Graham on the shoulder. "I bet you could use a warm bed and a warm meal. Once you're well rested and well fed, you'll feel better."

Bending down, Cray reached out to pat Sticks on the head. "How about you, you big friendly wolfy familiar? How are you doing?"

Sticks wagged her tail. "Ruff," she said. "Hun-gry," she added.

The sleeping bag tumbled from Cray's grip, and it unrolled into the snow. He cautiously withdrew his hand. "Uh, did you wolf familiar just...?" Cray asked.

Lilly had spun around to stare at the wolf too--the werewolf. "Familiars, don't, talk!"

Graham patted Sticks on the side, and he shook his head. Even without looking, he could feel the curious gaze of his friends. "So about that... I'm going to need your help with another secret..."

END

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