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Chapter 17

On the line between dreaming and consciousness, Sophia was unsure which feelings or thoughts belonged to which. Images faded in and out, sounds she thought might be real became suddenly silent as she drifted out of sleep. Yet, there was one sensation she was certain belonged to the conscious realm - her stomach hurt, a lot.

This pernicious fact dragged her sleep-addled mind decisively towards consciousness. To reinforce her morning misery came the awareness she was cold. She could feel patches of bare skin exposed to the air of the room and the absence of the comforting weight of her blanket. Where her skin wasn't exposed, she could feel fabric, but it provided little warmth. In fact, she felt as though every fiber clinging to her had been soaked in cold water. Even her bed sheets seemed intent on sucking the heat out of her.

"Ohhh..." Sophia moaned pitifully, the sound dragging her the rest of the way to full awareness against her will.

Awake now, her nerves insisted on updating her brain on the status of every part of her body all at once. She was laying on her side, curled up into a ball with her legs drawn into her stomach. Pain flared in her abdomen as she twisted onto her back. Opening her eyes, she stared up at the white plaster of her ceiling.

"Urgh," she moaned again, placing one hand on her stomach and using the other to brush hair off her face.

To her surprise, her fingers brushed something both crusty and sticky on her cheek. She rubbed at the strange substance in an attempt to remove it and discovered it wasn't just a small spot. Sensing that some of whatever it was had stuck to her fingers, she brought her fingers where she could see them.

Blood? Sophia felt a surge of panic as she saw the crusty, dark red substance on her fingertips. Oh, no.

Images of the deer flashed through her mind, and she nearly threw up then and there. Lifting her head, she looked down at her chest and wished she hadn't. Her sweatshirt was covered in blood, gore and other dirt. The garment itself was practically in tatters, with rips all across her front exposing pale skin.

"I didn't," panicking, she tried to deny the horror in front of her. "I couldn't have."

Ignoring the protests of her stomach and sore muscles, she propped herself up on her arms to assess the state of the rest of her body. Although not covered in gore, her sweatpants weren't in much better shape than her sweatshirt. A large tear exposed the side of her knee, which was stained with dry blood. Her light blue bed sheets were mottled with dark patches of dirt and blood.

I can't let dad see this, Sophia glanced at the door and was relieved to see it was shut. Well, it looks like I'm down more clothes.

The initial shock was wearing off, and her horror and disgust at consuming a deer - skin, fur, guts and all - was fading. Sure, it was gross, and she'd rather not think about some of what she'd eaten, but at least she didn't feel like she was going to vomit.

I was a wolf, sort of, and It tasted pretty good, a sharp pain in her abdomen registered its disapproval of the meal. I don't think I want to do it again though. Oh, I need to pee, bad.

Looking down at her filthy and tattered clothes, she considered her predicament. She had no desire to try explaining her current condition if her dad happened to see her. While she could remove the clothes, there was nothing she could do about her face without getting to the bathroom.

Nothing to do but try to be quick, stiff and sore muscles protested as she coaxed her body towards the edge of the bed.

Clutching her stomach and hunching over, she managed to get into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Her vision swam for a moment, before her heart and blood flow adjusted. The feeling of air against the bare skin on her knee reminded she had badly scraped it the night before. Tilting her knee, she angled it to better see the hole in her sweatpants. To her surprise, despite being caked in blood and dirt, her skin appeared uninjured. In fact, aside from the soreness and stiffness in her joints and muscles, she felt no pain anywhere on her arms or legs.

Moving her leg irritated her bladder, reminding her she didn't have time to linger. Gripping the sides of her sweatshirt, she pulled it over her head and tossed it to the other side of the bed. Quickly, she eased off her ruined sweatpants before tossing them as well. Rushing to the door, she grabbed her robe, tossed it around herself and cracked open her door. Relieved to see her dad's door was closed, she darted through her door, pulling it shut as she hurried down the hall.

Arriving at the relative safety of the bathroom, she turned on the lights and closed the door. Dropping the robe, she plopped down on the toilet and sighed in relief as she emptied herself. Her stomach still hurt, but at least her bladder didn't feel like it was going to burst. As she grabbed a piece of toilet paper to wipe away the last bit of urine, she frowned.

Something isn't right, her brow furrowed as she tried to pinpoint what was bothering her. I don't remember the bathroom being so... smelly.

Flaring her nostrils, she inhaled. There was the smell of urine of course, but also several floral scents and the barest hint of bleach. None of those were surprising in and of themselves, but she didn't remember smelling all of them at the same time before nor as strongly. She glanced at the counter; it didn't look like there were any splashes of floral scented hand soap on the counter, but she could definitely smell it. While turning back, she caught a faint whiff of mint that had to be from the toothpaste. However, the strongest smells were coming from...

Turning her head down, she sniffed. Woah, I really need a bath... and my pee! There is something really strange about it though...

Before she realized what she was doing, she got off the toilet and knelt down in front of it. Craning her neck while holding her hair, she inhaled sharply through her nose. She was mildly surprised to find the scents didn't repel her like they usually did. In fact, she felt like exploring them was a perfectly natural thing to do. Sniffing again, she concentrated on the makeup of the air entering her nose.

That smell, it's oddly familiar. There was something about the pungent aroma of her urine that was tickling an unfamiliar corner of her mind. It smells sort of like...

Her eyes widened as she placed it, a chill traveling through her. It wasn't the incredible library she had experienced just a few hours before, but her brain recognized it all the same.

"Wolf!" she blurted.

She didn't know how she recognized it or why she was so certain. If she tried thinking about it, it just smelled like normal pee. Yet, the lupine nature of the scent felt unmistakable.

How, though? Her mind reeled at the unexpected discovery. I changed back, didn't I?

Leaning back on her ankles, she looked at her hands. The claws that had adorned them had been replaced by her normal fingernails. Soft flesh covered the space where tough, leathery pads had been. They were very dirty of course, but as far as she could tell, her hands were as human as the day she was born. Looking down at her chest confirmed she was back to the human number of two nipples. To her admitted disappointment, there were no extra teats to be found below her breasts, nor fur on her stomach.

Then why am I smelling so much more? Sophia confirmed her nose was physically as she expected. Huh, that's interesting...

The scent of urine drew her attention again. To her conscious mind, there was just urine. Yet, her subconscious was insisting there were in fact two urine smells. Hers, which had the lupine scent, but also one without it. Her brain was insisting the one without the telltale scent was from a different individual, even though she couldn't explain how.

Seeing a yellow streak near the base of the bowl, she backed up and leaned down to investigate. Her brain processed the new set of chemical information and told her the dried urine wasn't hers. Also present was some cleaner residue she quickly discovered. There was just enough ammonia still present to cause her nose to burn.

Gah, that's awful, Sophia coughed and jerked away so fast her already distended stomach complained sharply. I was just sniffing a toilet, yuck.

At least, she knew she should be disgusted, but had to admit that wasn't something she was feeling. Even now, she felt an urge to go back to investigating the smells in the toilet bowl. Instead, she forced herself to stand up and push the toilet lever down. The smell of her urine immediately dissipated as it disappeared into the sewer pipes, but didn't disappear from the air entirely.

Stepping over to the sink, she turned on the water and stared into the mirror. She was a mess, her hair was a mass of tangles and some of it looked like it was glued together. Dry blood and other cervid remains were smeared across her face, upper chest and lower arms. Random smudges of dirt blemished her skin across her body. Her legs looked like they had never encountered a razor, and her right leg had a long streak of dry blood where she had scraped it.

Yet, aside from the grime and gore, there were no outward signs she had a very unusual night. The teenage girl in the mirror staring back at her was the one she was intimately familiar with. A shower, and she'd be able to walk around with no one the wiser.

I look like I'm completely back to normal; why do I feel so sad about it?

Sighing, she stepped over to the bathtub and started the water running. Immediately, a wave of sulfur hit her nose and she reflexively covered it with her hand. The house's water had always faintly smelled of the substance, but she'd long gotten used to it - or at least she had been used to it. Thankfully, after a few moments, she was able to stand it again. Once the water was at a decent temperature, she started the shower and stepped in.

As soon as she felt warm water against her cold skin, she felt herself relax. Soon, a stream of brown and red water was circling the drain as the remnants of her wolfish adventure were washed away. A few determined bits of fur, both wolf and deer, stuck to the walls of the tub. That evidence was readily taken care of with some adroit maneuvering of the shower head. A minute after starting the shower, the water falling off her body was crystal clear.

I don't see so much as a scratch, she reexamined her leg in wonder now that it was free of blood. That's incredible!

Curious, she flexed her right hand and was pleased to confirm all of the pain had disappeared. It was as though she had never injured it.

This werewolf healing is really cool!

Grabbing her shampoo, she squirted a sizable amount into her hand, filling the air with its sweet aroma. Rubbing it into her hair, she took her time scrubbing every inch and working out any tangles. Grabbing her razor, she placed her foot on the side of the tub and began removing the hair that had irritatingly sprung up.

"Sophia, almost done?" her hand jerked in surprise at her dad's voice, nicking the very place she had scraped it.

Burning pain radiated from the shallow laceration and she couldn't help responding with irritation in her voice, "yeah dad, just hold on."

Faintly, she heard floorboards creak as he walked away. That dealt with, she examined the place where she had just cut herself. Fresh blood had started trickling down her leg and down the drain as she placed it back under the shower. Annoyed, she lifted her other leg and quickly shaved it as well. Her leg still oozing blood, she turned off the shower and grabbed a towel and brought it to her face.

What is that?

She immediately yanked the towel away as an incredibly unpleasant sour odor assaulted her. It took her a moment to recognize the smell as that of the lemon fresh fragranced laundry detergent her family used.

Did the detergent go bad? She sniffed her towel again and gave a little cough. Can detergent go bad? This is horrible!

Breathing through her mouth, she dried off as quickly as she could. Grabbing a washcloth, she dabbed at her cut with one hand while using the other to grab a large bandaid. After applying the bandage, she tidied up from her shower and then threw on her robe. Tying it around her a bit haphazardly, she retreated from the bathroom. Hearing her dad in the kitchen, she hurried to her bedroom door, thankful her dad respected her privacy.

"Alright dad, I'm out," she announced before turning the knob and slipping through without listening for a response.

As soon as she stepped inside her room, her nose went wild. A combination of what she could only describe as decay, body odor and musk pervaded the air in the room. For a long moment she stood there, trying to make sense of it. She was only shaken out of it as she heard a chair slide across linoleum in the kitchen. Quickly, she shut the door before her dad could walk by.

Then, she took a few paces towards her bed and just stood there. The stench was awful, or at least she knew it should have been. In truth, she didn't feel any sense of disgust or repulsion. If anything, she was intrigued by them.

These smells are gross; why am I not disgusted? Is that... wolf?

Again, that strange corner of her mind latched onto what she knew to be her scent. It wasn't that of a pure wolf though, but she couldn't determine any more than that. It felt like she was staring at an indistinct smudge that she thought she recognized, but couldn't place. After 'seeing' the richly detailed tapestry that the world of scent could be, her inability to dissect it was incredibly frustrating. Attempting to distract herself, she moved to the other side of her bed.

I need to clean up in here before my dad notices. She looked wistfully at her ruined clothes on the floor. Being a werewolf is expensive. Crap, I need a garbage bag from the kitchen.

Fighting the desire to thoroughly examine the stain on her bed, she instead turned towards her dresser. Opening a drawer, she took a step back and pinched her nose as the same fragrance that had been on her towel struck her.

My clothes too? She eyed the neatly folded clothes warily. Why does the detergent smell so bad today?

Holding her breath, she carried a pile of clothes to her chair. Bracing herself, she picked her favorite shirt up and sniffed it. She immediately dropped it, making a face. Then forced herself to repeat the process for the pile and then the rest of the drawer.

At last, she found a long t-shirt that she only wore when she was running out of clean laundry. Thankfully, it had been in her drawer long enough that any residue had dissipated. She repeated the process with her pants drawer, finding a pair of baggy black sweats. Unfortunately, she didn't have any underwear that lacked the smell, but figured her sweats should contain it. Deciding to forgo a bra for the morning, she finished sorting out which clothes she needed to rewash. Finished, she laid her cobbled together outfit on the end of her bed and took a step back.

"Jane would love this," she muttered sardonically, and then looked at the pile of clothes on the floor. "Looks like I have some washing to do today."

The pile of clothes on her floor contained almost everything she owned that wasn't hanging up in the closet. Over the last year her wardrobe had become depressingly small to her eyes, and the last couple of months hadn't helped. Careful not to jostle her still tender stomach, she got dressed before grabbing a brush and doing what she could with her hair, which she had mistakenly allowed to dry.

I'm a mess, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror and sighed morosely. At least I'm not covered in blood.

Briefly, her mind flashed back to her night in the mountains and how at ease she had been. She had felt so alive, so free, so... right.

I really miss Shadow, she imagined what she had looked like, superimposing pointed ears and fur onto her reflection. Well, time to dispose of this mess before work.

Tearing herself from the mirror, she left her bedroom. Less preoccupied than her mad rush to and from the bathroom, she immediately noticed an undertone of alcohol in the air. Before that morning, she had only ever noticed the unpleasant smell when her dad had been drinking heavily. Now, it was as though it suffused every inch of the house.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate, anger flashed through her, bright and hot.

She had always disliked the smell of alcohol, even more after it consumed her father. Now, she found its odor utterly repugnant. She squeezed her hands into fists as her rage crested.

Yelling won't fix anything, taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and let her anger out in a long breath. It's not too strong, I can tolerate it.

The bathroom door was shut and she could hear the shower running. Moving briskly, she headed to the kitchen. She paused for a moment, not used to the number of different scents in the air, some pleasant and others not. The smell of chicken coming from the trashcan was particularly difficult to ignore, and she couldn't help having her gaze drawn in that direction. Refocusing, she shoved it all to the back of her mind as she concentrated on opening up the sink cabinet.

The noxious onrush of various cleaning chemicals caused her to cough and gasp. Closing the doors, she waited for her nose to stop burning before inhaling sharply. Holding her breath, she grabbed a garbage bag and shut the doors. After a few seconds she exhaled, happy to find the miasma had dissipated quickly.

Faintly, she heard the squeaking of the shower handle being turned. Willing herself to move, she headed for her bedroom. To her relief, the oppressive stench of alcohol was replaced by the oddly pleasant smells of blood and decay. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she let the air in her room wash away the unpleasantness from the rest of the house.

One thing is for sure; if this nose is permanent, it's going to take a lot of getting used to.