FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Written and posted with permission from Leo_Todrius (who also provided the kickass thumbnail icon!)

You can find his profile and awesome stories here: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/leotodrius

---

Lykos - Wild Things

Chapter 05 - I am the night, color me black

The moment Drake and Wyatt set foot downstairs, they were immediately assaulted by a pack of ferocious and fearsome beasts - comprised of two dachshunds, a shiba inu, a Jack Russell Terrier and a black, fuzzy thing of indeterminate species - that started barking at them, licking their feet and gnawing at their jeans. "Let me guess, Moira's here," Drake said, trying to sound cheerful... even if, against his wishes, some concern still seeped through his voice.

Wyatt snorted, making one of his unruly locks of hair dance on his forehead. "What did you expect? She is our head keeper, after all."

"How exactly did you get stuck with her if you don't like her?" Drake couldn't help but asking.

The alpha gave him a crosswise look. "The point is that no one likes her, and that feeling is wholeheartedly reciprocated. The only person she gets along with is mom, for some reason."

Well, they are both very fearsome women..., Drake thought, gulping. He still remembered his first encounter with Moira with pure, unadulterated terror: it had happened the day after his wolf had awakened.

After he had woken up and had gone downstairs to have breakfast, he found a strange elderly woman sitting at the table, sipping from an enormous cup of coffee with a plethora of adoring small dogs lined in front of her on the floor. She sported a hooked nose that looked like it had been stripped from a Halloween mask and pasted on her face somehow, her hair was steel gray and looked so impossible to comb they were probably made out of iron wire, and her cardigan was so ugly it was disturbing to look at. She was also staring at Drake with the face of someone thinking that male castration could have been a viable and interesting option, especially if employed right on the spot.

Is she that "old bat" Wyatt was telling me about?, Drake thought, frowning. He timidly extended his right arm, even though he wasn't at all sure if he actually wanted to shake hands with her. She looks like that crazy cat lady from 'The Simpsons'...

Instead of replying, of shaking his hand or of greeting him in any other way, the old woman got up on her feet - she was quite tall, her back straight and her posture imposing - and started beating Drake on his head with her gigantic black purse. "You were thinking I look like that crazy cat lady from 'The Simpsons', huh?" she meanwhile roared at him with the deep, catarrhous voice of a chain smoker. "That is very rude, young man, very rude indeed!". Even her small dogs had joined her in her assault, biting his exposed toes and pulling the pants of his pajamas with their tiny fangs.

How the hell does he know that? Drake screamed internally while trying to defend himself from the vicious attacks. "P-please, ma'am, s-stop beating me!" Ouch! Is she keeping rocks in that freaking purse?!

Cordelia emerged from the kitchen with a coffee pot and a plate full of cookies in her hands; she looked at the bizarre scene in from of her with a smile of mild satisfaction on her lips. "She's hitting you hard. That means she likes you."

The old woman immediately ceased her hostilities and sit down on her chair to feast on the freshly baked biscuits. "Do not say foolish things, Delia. You know I don't like anyone. Except my babies here, of course," and she started splitting a couple of cookies among her dogs; the animals lined in front of her back again, patiently waiting for their share.

Drake just stood there in the middle of the dining room, unsure on what to do; his toes hurt because of the bites, and a large bump was swelling on his forehead. "U-um..."

The old woman turned to face Cordelia as he wasn't even there. "So he's the new one you talked me about, huh?"

Cordelia nodded. "My stupid son found him in the woods with a broken leg. I guess you can imagine what happened next."

The woman snorted, spitting cookie crumbs on the table. "Well, he doesn't look that bad. Not as big as the other one, but at least this one I can talk to without having to put my glasses on." She glanced at Drake with cold, intense gray eyes. "Speak up, young man. What's your name?"

Drake felt the unsuppressible desire to stand at attention and salute. "I'm Drake Stapleton, sir! I mean, ma'am!"

"Drake... It's a strong name. Guess it could be worse." The old woman scratched her chin pensively with a finger. "I'm Moira, by the way, and from this day onwards I'll be your keeper. I won't say I hope we'll get along since I don't get along with anyone, but I expect I'll at least be able to tolerate your presence."

The reel of memories finally stopped playing inside Drake's head, and he snapped back to reality, the dogs around him still trying to assail his bare feet. "Are we going outside?" he asked Wyatt, who was looking in a nearby mirror and combing his unruly blond hair with a hand.

The alpha shrugged. "Well, duh. The only one who's staying home tonight is Grace. A mature primal wolf inside a house during a full moon is not a good idea at all, unless you really, really hate that building and its contents. Of course we're heading to the woods."

"I should probably get my shoes, then."

"Dude, don't be silly, just use your paws. It's not like those we're meeting in the forest don't know what we are... and in any case, you won't need shoes in an hour anyway. Oh, and remember to take off your clothes after the keepers will set the barrier on, unless you want to burst through them like some comic book character."

Drake looked at him, perplexed. "Huh? What barrier?"

"What?" Even Wyatt seemed confused, now. "You mean Moira or the twins still haven't explained you anything about how the full moon works?"

"No, not really..." And you didn't, either. Drake stared at his alpha, hoping for some much needed explanation to come, but he just shrugged.

"Heh, there's no time for that now. And after all, seeing it is easier than explaining it, I've never really understood all that mumbo-jumbo."

Richard and Cordelia were already waiting for them at the front door. "Moira is already at the glade, she said she was tired of waiting for the two of you and asked me to make you feel guilty about it," Wyatt's father explained with an amused grin not unlike that of his son. He was wearing a pair of short pants and a worn white t-shirt with the words READY 2 HOWL printed on it. "We should hurry, we only have an hour left." He glanced at his wife, who was trying to calm down Grace: the little girl had clearly just finished throwing a tantrum, and was now grabbing her mother's legs tightly.

"Please, mom, just this time! I promise I'll be good!" Grace was whimpering. It was one of those rare times where the little girl could be seen as the werewolf she was: her golden eyes shined, despite being full of tears, and her furry ears were pressed against the side of her head.

Cordelia, with gentle yet firm fingers, grabbed her youngest daughter under her armpits and took her into her arms. "I'm sorry, Grace, but no means no. I've already explained you countless times that you can't be with us during a full moon, at least until you're older."

Grace sniffed, her eyes dangerously close to unleash twin waterfalls of sadness all over her cheeks. "But I don't understand why!"

Cordelia averted her glance, a gesture that was quite unexpected, coming from her. "That's why you have to be older, you still can't understand."

The kid, however, still wasn't ready to give up. "Is it because you give each other kisses? Cynthia Bowman told me it's because of that, but I don't understand! I've seen you and daddy kissing each other dozens of times, and Wyatt and Drake too!"

Drake tried somehow to mask his embarrassment by turning around and staring intently at the coat hanger. Cordelia, in the meantime, glanced at Richard, trying to get some help from him; the man smiled and ruffled his daughter's rebellious hair. "Yes, we give each other kisses. It's a special type of kisses that sometimes makes you find a baby under the tree in the forest."

"Oh." Grace looked disappointed all of a sudden. "Well, I don't want to find any baby, they are gross. Estrella Morales has a baby brother and all he ever does is crying and making pee and poo and then crying again." The little girl stared at Cordelia and Richard, a smile of resignation and - probably - relief on her face. "I changed my mind, I want to stay here. You can put me down, mom."

Cordelia kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, Grace. Now be a good puppy and behave until Alicia arrives, okay?"

"Well, crisis averted, huh?" Richard exclaimed after Cordelia had locked the front door behind her. Underhill house was standing in the outskirts of the small, peaceful town of Cerulean Falls, with the edge of the woods at less than a fifty yard from there.

"If you say so," Cordelia replied dryly.

"What do you mean?"

"'Special type of kisses'? Really?"

Richard lifted his open hands, as if he was getting ready to defend himself from an assault. "Hey, it worked, and that's what's important! I bet she won't even ask about coming with us, next time!"

Delia pursed her lips, her chin pointed upwards. "Well, I guess I can't expect much from the man wearing an immature double-entendre t-shirt."

"Come on, Delia, you know I've been wearing this at every full moon for the past twelve years! It's my good luck charm!"

Drake leaned towards Wyatt. "I feel very uncomfortable at listening to your parents bickering."

"Yeah, tell me," the alpha replied, with the face of someone realizing he had just accidentally eaten a spider. "It's worse when you know they have rage-induced sex afterwards."

"I... really didn't want to know that."

Wyatt smiled at him. "Hey, you said I don't have to hide anything from you, right?"

Luckily, the sound of brakes of two mountain bikes prevented Wyatt's parents from quarreling more. "Gran sent us to see what was going on," two voice said at once. The boy and the girl who had just parked their bicycles in front of Wyatt and Drake were as identical as two fraternal twins of the opposite sex could hope to be: same shoulder-length strawberry blond hair, same deep blue eyes, same dusting of freckles on the bridge of their noses. Even their choice of clothes was very similar: they were both wearing powder grey jackets, denim jeans and black and white sneakers. The only asymmetrical element was the soul patch under the boy's lower lup, but for the rest it was just like looking at the gender-swapped version of one another.

"Oh, hi Leah! Hi Ian!" Drake greeted the two teenagers. The two were Moira's grandchildren - in the sense that yes, she had once had a husband and she also had had at least a child - as well as the other two keepers of their pack, and Kaylee's and Chance's classmates.

"I am sorry, we had some little inconvenience with Grace," Cordelia explained briefly. "Right now she's quite easy to calm down, but I really don't know what am I going to do the moment she hits puberty." If she was the type of person to shiver in horror, she would've done just that.

"Well, Gran said to tell you to hurry," Ian replied, nodding at his own words.

"Everyone is already there, and it will take some time to get into position," Leah added.

Preceded by the twins on their mountain bikes, the four werewolves sped up the pace, taking a small, nearly invisible dirt path leading directly into the woods. No one was talking: Richard and Delia still seemed upset to one another, and Wyatt was looking around with the familiar child-like wonder in his eyes, sometimes whistling a melody of sorts through his lips. Drake decided to follow the example of his alpha and focused on his surroundings: despite the still quite far but louder and louder by the second sound of multiple voices - surely the gathering the Ian and Leah had mentioned - the forest was immersed in an eerie, soothing calm, and even the dirt crackling under his feet-paws resounded clear through the trees as a gunshot would have; it was like if even whatever genius loci inhabited the woods was busy getting prepared for the incoming full moon. I guess this is what they call "the calm before the storm", he thought; the twins meanwhile got off from their mountain bikes and took a sharp turn left, deviating from the narrow path. Sure, I still don't know what exactly the storm would be, but...

And then Drake stopped thinking and just held out his breath in surprise and wonder for some seconds: they had just come out through a thick patch of shrubs and young trees directly into a big, circular glade with a ring of white rocks in the middle that looked like the site of a campfire. The place looked too well thought-out to be natural, and yet Drake was surprised to never have noticed it despite the pack's frequent wanderings through the forest, especially considering it was quite close to Underhill house. So this is where the werewolves and the keepers gather before a full moon, he thought, glancing around with excited eyes: there must have been at least two hundred people reunited there, maybe even more, some of them talking, some of them - especially the youngest - staring at the screen of their telephones or listening to music, some of them eating and some of them simply looking around at the crowd.

The young man's sensitive nose started sniffing around, and another realization hit him: the majority of those gathered in the clearing were lycanthropes, just like he was. Well, I guess that was kind of obvious, now that I think about it, he said to himself while taking a half-step forward, his head turning around without a pause in an attempt to localize the few people he already knew: he could smell the odor of his pack members lingering around in the air, but trying to pinpoint them was a different matter, considering the incredible number of scents, sounds, colors and other different stimuli that encircled him like a confusing yet wonderful festival. For a moment he saw Moira in the middle of the crowd, busy in a conversation with an old Asian man with a shaved head shining in the late afternoon and a long, pointy white beard; before he could call for her, though, Drake's field of view was completely monopolized by the arrival of a tall young woman with shining golden eyes and a stern expression on her dangerous face.

"Mother. Father," Talia said, bowing towards her parents in respect. "Young keepers," she added, looking at Ian and Leah; she didn't lower her head this time, but there was still a modicum of deference in her voice. When she turned to face Wyatt, though, her irises showed nothing but scarcely contained fury. "Brother," she grumbled through gritted fangs; and lastly, of course - because he knew his turn was going to come - Talia's stare lingered over Drake. He tried his best to become invisible, but there was no way to escape the power those eyes had on him: they could look inside him as if they had x-ray vision. "You," Talia murmured. She had clearly recognized him as the man with the broken leg in the woods, and in any case Richard and Cordelia had probably told her about him, so she didn't look surprised... more like disappointed. The strangest thing, though, was that the target of such disappointment wasn't Drake himself. "You look stronger than I would've imagined." She wasn't simply disappointed, she looked downright confused and perplexed, the face of a mathematician who had just found a tiny little factor that still was enough to completely disprove her theorem.

"Yeah, sis, go figure," Wyatt intervened in a caustic tone. "The guy you thought was so weak he couldn't even crawl out of a hole is actually strong... Bet you didn't see that coming, huh?"

Talia shifted her eyes back on her younger sibling (a gesture Drake was really grateful for: the pressure of that stare was unbearable). "Things change, brother: he was a human back then. Now he's a wolf, just like us... even more than some of us, I'd say." She looked at her parents. "Mother, father, there's something I have to tell you. Let's go somewhere else more private," and she let them away, towards the borders of the glade.

"So... you're the new wolf everyone is talking about?" A big, callous hand with black-painted fingernails grabbed Drake by the shoulder, forcing him to turn around; his surprised eyes were met by the stares of four different people, three guys and a girl.

The owner of the huge fingers still holding onto Drake's shoulder was by far the biggest of the group; even if he wasn't as tall nor as large as Patrick, he was certainly more impressive: he looked like a metal band leader, with a mane of straight auburn hair reaching the middle of his back, a thick septum ring, multiple piercings in his ears, a black spiked collar hanging very low around his neck and a twelve inches long, carefully braided beard. He smiled, showing pointy fangs and a steel stud glistening in his tongue. He was wearing a black t-shirt of a group Drake had never heard, but that - at least judging from the length of the name and insane number of Ks in it - was probably some Scandinavian metal ensemble, and what looked like a black kilt. "You know what? I like you," he said in an amused tone; it wasn't clear if he was being genuine or if he wasn't making fun of Drake. Despite his size and his choice of clothes and piercings, though, he seemed amicable enough.

The guy standing next to him just snorted through his nostrils. He seemed a bigger, more mature version of Chance, with his olive skin tone and sharp features; his looks were charming, hinting at the handsome man the youngest member of Wyatt's pack was bound to become in a few years: a designer beard peppered the skin of his cheeks and chin, and the liquid gold of his eyes - despite the bored and conceited expression on his face - was warm and inviting like honey. He too had pierced ears, sporting gold rings that gave him a piratical look, complimented by his black and wavy shoulder-length hair; he too, like Wyatt, had the type of body one would have expected to see on a male gymnast, not overtly big but defined and proportioned. The pair of black pants that enveloped his legs in a leathery, skin-tight embrace looked both pricey and uncomfortable to wear, but suited him perfectly, as did the slick, dark, sleeveless shirt hugging his chest. "Hey," he just muttered.

The third boy looked like the youngest of the bunch, the least remarkable and the most clean-cut of them; unlike the majority of the werewolves gathered in the glade - and, Drake reflected, of the werewolves in general, considering how fast their hair, beards and fur could grow - the black-skinned boy's head, cheeks and chin had been shaven clean, even if a soft shadow of stubble was already threatening the smoothness of his skin. He was wearing a pair of stylish, white-rimmed hipster glasses, and the yellow irises behind the lenses were a perfect counterbalance to his dark complexion, giving him an enticing, mystical look. He was smiling, showing pearly-white fangs, and despite the fact that he looked happy there was still something unsettling in his expression: it was fierce and ferocious... even if "blood-thirsty" would've probably be the best word to describe it. Otherwise, he didn't look particularly menacing or dangerous - of the three guys, he was also the shorter and the thinnest - but Drake had learned that when werewolves were involved, he couldn't take anything for granted. "Always good to see someone new," he said, before letting out a chuckle that sent a shiver down Drake's spine.

The lone girl of the team was petite and gave off a distinct Lolita-like vibe: she probably was at least three or four years old older than what she appeared. Her face was cute and a bit childish, with big eyes, a small delicate nose and puffed lips; her features, however, betrayed more than a hint of malice and mischievousness: more than a werewolf, she looked like a fox who had taken human form to trick some naive wanderer. She was wearing a white, simple sports bra that left her flat and well-toned abs exposed, and a pair of shorts that showed her impressive pair of runner legs, tapered and defined. Her most impressive characteristic was indeed her hair: it was platinum blond, almost silver, and nearly as long as she was tall, the tips brushing against her calves with every movement of her head. They were tied in a very low ponytail by the means of a huge pink ribbon, a hairstyle that didn't look at all practical but added to her carefully built aura of cuteness. She lifted two fingers in a peace sign and exclaimed "Cheerio!"

Drake was more confused than ever, at this point. Um... Who are those guys?, he asked to himself. Don't ask me, I'm just as perplexed as you are, his brain replied. The four people in front of him were so dissimilar from one another they looked like they wouldn't have normally share the same state together, let alone the same glade; and yet they seemed a very tight-knit team. I guess being a werewolf really makes that type of differences completely moot, he thought, while scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess that's me," he then replied in a sheepish tone. He was unsure on what to do, and what's worse the four still looked at him as if they were expecting something. "I-I'm sorry, it's my first full moon and I'm still unsure on what to do..." He tried to justify himself. God, I must sound like a complete idiot.

Wyatt stepped in, a huge grin on his face. "Allow me to introduce you to my sister's favorite lackeys, Drake." He pointed at the big guy in the kilt, "we have Douchebag," then at the Chance look-alike, "Asshole," the dark-skinned boy, "Psycho," and finally the girl, "and of course Bitch."

"Yeah, of course I am 'Bitch'," she repeated, her arms crossed over her firm, supple chest. "'cause I'm the only girl here, you know. How original." Her high-pitched, cutesy voice sounded too prissy to be authentic. "You lost your sheen since you've left the pack, runt." The girl then looked at Drake, and the expression of welcome on her face this time seemed genuine. "I'm Jeanne, by the way... And those three guys are Boris, Bradley and Jordan." She stared at Drake intently, with a cunning and predatory look in her eyes that clashed with the manufactured innocence of her face. "You know, it's a real pity you ended up in the wrong pack... You look very strong, I'm sure you would've felt home with us."

Boris, the auburn-haired Viking, beamed at him. "Yeah, I would've loved to challenge you to a good old brawl!"

"Or to a hunting competition," Jordan added, before letting out another creepy laughter.

Drake just smiled back as politely as possible. "Well, nice to meet you! And really, I'm glad that you are so welcoming... but don't worry, I'm in the right pack for me," and he grabbed Wyatt's hand, holding it tight.

Bradley snorted again in annoyance. "You heard him? He wants to stay in the loser team, he's not worth anyone's time. Really, I don't know why we even tried talking to him..."

Chance popped up from behind Wyatt, a quiet smile on his face and a middle finger - topped with a dark brown, razor-sharp claw - raised and pointed towards the leather-clad young man. "Why don't you sit on this, Brad?" He asked in a casual tone.

The other let out a surprised and enraged growl, and looked at Chance with homicidal instinct in his beautiful honey-colored eyes; for a moment Drake readied himself in case he had to defend his packmate, but then Bradley turned around and walked away. "As I said, this was just a huge waste of time," he grumbled. The other three members of the group waved at Drake and then followed him suit.

"Just as always," Chance said, grinning. "The only thing he's good at is barking."

"Let me guess, he's your older brother?" Drake asked.

"Older cousin. But yeah, a lot of people tell me we look like brothers... unfortunately." Chance shuddered, despite his ubiquitous leather jacket. "I used to look up to him when I was a kid, before I realized he was a complete asshole; but now I have a wonderful alpha and a cool big bro, so who cares about him anymore?". He hugged both Wyatt and Drake, and the smile shining on his face was so full of genuine admiration that the latter couldn't help but feeling embarrassed.

Have I... become some sort of role model all of a sudden?, he pondered. "Well, at least the other three seem kind of decent," he observed.

Wyatt snorted. "And that's why first impressions are always wrong. I mean, we are talking about my sister's betas, in case you forgot."

Drake glanced at him. "And in case you forgot, one month ago you basically confessed me that you had decided to turn me into a werewolf because of the first impression I made on you."

"H-hey, that was a completely different matter!"

"Really? And why?"

"Well, for starters because I was right."

Around the three young werewolves, meanwhile, the twins and a couple of other keepers were busy carrying around trays full of clear plastic cups filled with a dark green liquid giving forth a very pungent smell. Must be the potion Wyatt gave me when I was trying to get in touch with my wolf. The taste was awful, but I could use some relax right now... When Ian walked near, Drake motioned to grab a cup, but the twin let out an amused chuckle.

"This is not for you, Drake! It's for the ladies!" The boy exclaimed, before offering the tray to Angela and Kaylee, who were approaching the group along with Patrick.

"Thanks," Angela murmured before grabbing a cup and gulping down the concoction in a single sip. She tried her best to keep a smile on her face, but she still grimaced in disgust for a split second. "It's a contraceptive, as you can imagine," she explained to Drake. "Tastes like an open sewer, but works without fail."

"I see," Drake replied, a bit absent-minded. He was staring at Talia, who was still talking to her parents near the trees: she too had a cup in her hand, but even if she kept bringing it to her lips, the level of the dark green liquid didn't seem to go down.

"Are you excited, Drake?" Kaylee had hugged him by surprise. The girl, her eyes gleaming, placed her head against his chest and smiled a bit. "Yes, you are, I can hear it. And quite nervous, also."

Drake bit his lip. "Y-yeah, it's my first time..." Well, at least from tomorrow on I won't be able to use this pathetic excuse anymore...

The girl beamed at him. "Don't worry, we'll be there for you, should you need something," she then pointed at Moira, who was still in the middle of the glade talking with the old man. "You see that person over there? He's my great-grandpa. He's nearly ninety, and the oldest werewolf around here."

"Really?" Drake exclaimed. "I thought he was a keeper or something." The man looked like an old martial artist, and certainly didn't seem a ninety-years-old.

The girl shook her head. "He was in an internment camp during World War II, he met my great-grandma there. She was a werewolf, so he chose the bite to be with her."

Meanwhile, Moira had climbed on the top of one of the white rocks in the middle of the clearing; she coughed a couple of times, and when she spoke up her voice resounded clear and loud, as if she was talking inside an invisible megaphone. "So, is everyone ready? We have roughly thirty-five minutes until zero hour, so move your scrawny asses and reach your respective group leaders. No tardiness will be tolerated!" The old woman jumped off the rock with nonchalance and marched towards the six young werewolves. "What are you doing, standing there like salt statues? Come on, let's get moving!"

Drake, before following the others, gave one last look to the clearing: the majority of the crowd was splitting into two groups, the adults on one side and the teens and young adults, led by Talia, on the other. "So... How does exactly the packs system work?" he asked Wyatt.

"Well, as you can see there are three of them; there's the adult pack, which basically exists for the sake of convenience, since many of them are couples or partners anyway. They do have an alpha and follow the pack rules, though. Then there's the young pack: when a puppy is deemed old enough to stay outside during a full moon, he or she joins it. And then, of course, there's our pack. We are the wild card... Or, as everyone else puts it, those five weirdos. Well, six, now."

Drake smiled at him and ruffled his hair. "I'm very proud to be a weirdo, then."

Now that all the werewolves and the keepers had left the clearing and parted into different directions, the forest was even quieter and more enveloped in a dream-like atmosphere than before; the sky rapidly changing its colors, like the back of a colossal chameleon adapting itself to twilight, only but added to the eeriness of the surroundings. Drake could feel an uneven - but not at all unpleasant - mixture of feeling, sensations and energies bursting and melting into one another inside his soul. I guess the wolf is getting ready, he thought. I wonder what's going to happen this time, how much my body will change... but I guess everything will be alright. As long as I'm not as big as a minivan, I mean.

Nearly ten minutes later the sky had taken a dark azure, almost metallic shade, the rare clouds now pink like ephemeral cotton candy; Moira was still walking among the trees, following what seemed to be a random pattern, at least from Drake's perspective. Finally, though, she stopped in front of a large, rough-barked tree, took something small and shiny from one of the pockets of her cardigan and brought it to her lips.

For a second, Drake thought someone had sneaked behind him and stabbed him through an ear with a red-hot fire hook: he yelped in pain and shock and jerked into the air like a salmon trying to climb up a waterfall.

Moira looked at him with nothing but contempt. "Don't be a whiny puppy, please. This is just a dog whistle, it won't kill you. Now get in line with the others unless you want me to blow it again."

Drake quickly darted towards the others and squeezed himself between Patrick and Angela. Even the deaf mountain of a young man looked strained and uneasy. "Can you hear that thing, too?" Drake mouthed at him in silence.

Patrick gestured towards Angela. "He said: 'No, but she still scares me to death'," the girl translated in a barely audible whisper.

Moira paced back and forth in front of the pack for some seconds. "We don't have much time before moonrise, and I still have to explain everything to the new one," she was saying, and it wasn't clear if she was talking to them or rather to herself. "So let's keep this as short as possible," she stopped in front of Drake, her arm stretched. "Give me your hand."

He obliged. "Um, okay, but I don't really... Ouch! What the... that hurts!"

The old woman put away the tiny knife she had used to open a small cut on one of Drake's fingertips and snorted. "You're such a big baby... In case you haven't noticed, tonight is a full moon, you'll heal before you can say 'lycanthropy'." She took a glass bottle filled with dark red liquid out of another pocket. "But first I need some of your blood."

Drake sighed and let his finger bleed inside the bottle until the cut closed itself. "Can I at least now why I had to do that?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Moira looked back at him with a quizzical expression. "Well, I've just cut you without any explanation, I would've found really strange if you didn't want to know why!" The keeper pointed at the large tree behind her. "You know what that is?"

Drake was taken aback by the absurdity of the question. Am I supposed to give her a straight answer? "It's... a tree?"

The peeved clicking of Moira's tongue hurt his ears just like her dog whistle. "Well, of course it's a tree, everyone can see that. But what purpose does it serve?"

"You mean apart from photosynthesis?"

The old woman looked at Wyatt. "Is he mentally challenged?"

"Hey, don't be mean to him. It's not like you had explained him anything about full moons during the past month anyway."

"Well, you are his alpha. It's your duty to guide him."

"And you're his head keeper, so what?"

Moira snorted again. "Whatever, we're just wasting time." She walked closer to the tree and placed a hand over the rough bark. "Listen to me, new one, and listen carefully because I won't repeat it twice: this isn't just a tree, it's an antenna tower. Well, not really, but that's beside the point. You see, one of the main duties of us keepers - apart from protecting the secret of the werewolves entrusted to us - is to set up a barrier during every full moon; I won't lie to you, sometimes primal wolves can... well, not really lose control, but it's undeniable that the mind of a werewolf during a full moon works quite differently from the usual. So, in order to avoid any possible problem, we have these." The bark just above her fingertips glimmered, the silvery sparkle vibrating and blossoming into a round shape with crosses and lines intersecting in a complicated pattern. "Of course, carving these glyphs would save us a lot of time since I have to redraw them periodically on every single tree we use, and believe me when I say it's a huge waste of time... But hunters could be anywhere."

The woman moved away from the tree, and the arcane symbol flickered and waned before disappearing altogether; she then uncorked the small glass bottle again and put some of the blood inside it into a mortar, along with soil taken from near the roots of the tree and a pinch of dark powder taken from a plastic bag. "If any night is sacred, this one is," she muttered, stirring the mixture with a finger. "If any bond is strong, this one is." She traced on her forehead the same symbol that had appeared on the tree with quick, confident gestures; the moment she finished drawing the last segment of the glyph, an old cellphone ringed in her purse. "Just in time," she said in a satisfied tone. "The twins are in position. Now step inside the barrier."

"Um... where's the barrier, exactly?" Drake asked Angela.

The girl smiled and pointed in front of her. "Just walk past that tree and you will be fine."

After Drake was beyond the invisible border, Wyatt stepped in front of him. "Come closer," he said. Drake bent down slightly, and the alpha kissed him on the lips, a tender but very passionate gesture that elicited a squeak of delight from Kaylee; when Wyatt pressed his body against that of his beta for a moment, Drake could feel his hard-on stretching his shorts and underwear and smell his barely contained arousal. "After the change is over, come and find me. Tonight is for you and me only," he murmured in his ear, before darting towards the trees at breakneck speed and disappearing from sight in a couple of seconds.

Chance, standing beside Drake, sighed while watching Wyatt go. "Wish I could join you too, big bro... But we'll have many other full moons after this one. By the way, you should stay here and watch the show, it's something to be witnessed at least once," he pointed back at Moira, before adding. "And then find a spot you like and take off your clothes, especially if they are something you care about." His hands absentmindedly caressed his own leather jacket. "Well... bye, big bro! See you next morning," and then he was gone, too.

The other members of Wyatt's pack were similarly leaving the place: Kaylee waved at him, Angela just smiled and bowed her head, and Patrick gave Drake two thumbs up before running away, fast and agile despite his considerable size. "So?" Moira grumbled in his direction. "What are you going to do, new one?"

"Chance told me to stay and watch the show," he replied, even though he had no idea of what was going to happen.

Moira shrugged. "Well, as long as you shut up and keep quiet..." The old woman closed her eyes and started murmuring unintelligible words, her right hand again pressed against the large tree. For some seconds, nothing happened, even in the woods seemed even quieter and more silent than before; but then, without warning, the tree spread wings made out of moonlight.

Oh my God..., Drake thought, his mouth wide open. Chance was right, this is... incredible. The quiet yet seemingly solid silvery light irradiated from the tree in two opposites direction, making it shine like a spiritual beacon; and when the gleaming touched the nearby trunks, they two lighted up and became the next foundations of the mystical barrier, that went on extending more and more alongside the row of trees while at the same time growing as tall as their tops. Drake got closer to observe the strange phenomenon better. It's like a wall, he pondered. It looks immaterial, but... I wonder if it's okay for me to touch it? He glanced at Moira, but she was still muttering things with her eyes closed. Well, if it's a barrier it's supposed to keep us inside, so I guess there's no real problem touching it. He extended a trembling hand, until his fingertips brushed against a smooth surface. It's really solid, he marveled. And I'm sure it's harder than a diamond, even my claws couldn't hope to scratch it. But that wasn't by far the most exceptional thing. It's... warm. And not only that... It's like it's a living, breathing creature. Drake smiled and sighed in pleasure and relief: the barrier wasn't there just to keep them inside. It was embracing them, making feel safe. What is... what is this power? Drake wondered.

"That's what you may call 'the will to protect'." The voice of Moira, coming from the other side of the barrier, was muffled and had a strange echo to it, as though it was travelling through a body of water, but of otherwise clear and comprehensible. The old woman still kept her eyes shut, but there was an unfamiliar expression on her face: the faint shadow of a smile. "I really don't like any of you, but I'd die before revealing your secret... And this barrier is the expression of that sentiment. Now go, new one, the moon will rise soon."

How the hell does she always know what I am thinking?, Drake asked himself. He ran in a random direction for a couple of minutes, unsure on what to do or where to go, until he stumbled into a small glade. Well, I guess this is as good as any other place... he thought, starting to peel off his t-shirt; the late summer evening was still warm, and Drake didn't even shiver. He looked at himself, noticing - not without a small bafflement - that he was now completely human, no traits of the wolf's presence visible on his body; despite this, and despite the waning light, he could still admire his physique: in the past month, his biceps and triceps had become bigger, his pecs firmer and his musculature more defined in general. He looked like an avid gym goer, despite the fact that in the past month his only training had been the daily running through the woods with Wyatt and the rest of the pack. Well, werewolves are apex predators, after all, he thought, caressing the skin around his nipples with idle gestures and finding it surprisingly sensitive. Makes sense for them to be strong. The moment he realized he had thought something like that, he sighed. Why the hell do I have to over-analyze everything? I should just... let myself go. Enjoy this moment.

Drake stared at his shorts, lost into doubt: should he wait until the beginning of the changes or should he just take them off? Heh, it's not like I'll need to cover my junk soon. If I really want to stop worrying and just live this moment at its fullest, throwing away my human modesty seems like a good first step. And so the shorts, along with the t-shirt, were tied to the highest branch the young man could reach without actually climbing on the tree.

Still waiting for the changes to start, Drake inspected the lower part of his own body: the muscles of his legs were incredibly well developed now, and that at least made sense, considering he had been running for hours nearly every day during the past month; of course, getting calves and quads like the ones he was sporting now would have probably required a couple of years of training... Not to mention his cute, muscled butt.

With a lewd expression on his face, Drake let his hand go down, one of his fingers tracing the circumference of his pink pucker. Soon Wyatt will fill me with his hot rod, he thought, licking his lips. I wonder if it will hurt... But no, I'm sure it will feel great: every time I did the same with Chance he seemed to have the time of his life, after all. His fingertips then started to tease the wrinkled skin of his ball sack, and Drake couldn't help letting out a half-moan, half-howl of pleasure. M-my God, they are so sensitive... Blood streamed to his groin, his dick stirring to life and becoming erect; Drake touched it with curiosity and arousal. I'm not used to have a human cock anymore... Lately, when I was excited, he always turned into a wolfish shaft. With a wicked grin on his face, he brushed his fingertips on the mushroom-shaped head. Should I masturbate until the moonrise? That'd certainly give me something to pass the time...

A shrub on his right rustled. "Oh, I am sorry, Drake, I hope I am not interrupting anything..." Angela murmured, emerging in the small glade. She, too, was completely naked, except for the scarf - a dark blue one, this time - that was still tied around her neck; she had a genuine expression of embarrassment on her face, but her excitement was at least partly betrayed by the scent coming from the slit nestled in the small bush of red hair between her legs.

Drake was frozen on the spot, a hand still on his now rapidly deflating cock. "O-o-oh, um..." he stuttered, his cheeks tinged of a violent shade of red. "I-I-I... I wasn't, r-really..."

Angela shook her head, a timid smile on her lips. "N-no, it is my fault, I shouldn't... I shouldn't have burst in here w-without, you know..."

The young man had his gaze fixed on the grass in front of his feet. I'm naked in the middle of a forest with a cute, naked young woman alongside me, and that's not even the strangest thing it's going to happen tonight... My life has become too weird, really. "S-so... What brings you here? Y-you want to, you know..." After all, Angela was the only packmate he still hadn't seen naked, until that moment at least, and the only one he hadn't been intimate with in some way. "B-because, well, I kind of p-promised Wyatt that..." Not that he would've minded having some fun with her in any other occasion, of course: Angela was still a member of his pack, and he found her charming and fascinating, even if maybe a little too gentle and demure for her own good. That night, however, all he wanted was to be the best beta ever for Wyatt, and nothing else.

The girl, however, shook her head. "Oh, no, no, no! I'm sorry, I... I j-just thought that because this is your first time, m-maybe... maybe you needed someone to, you know... Be with you. Help you during your first change. But if you don't want anyone here, I will..." She turned around, getting ready to depart.

"No, wait!" Drake exclaimed, lifting an arm in her direction. "I... Thank you, Angela, this is really kind of you." He gave her the best smile he could produce. "So... When do you think it is going to start?"

The young woman looked up: in the sky, now dark violet, the stars were lighting up one by one. "Any minute now," she replied. "The beginning of the transformation is..." and then she stumbled, and had to lean against a nearby tree for support. Her eyes went wide, and the pale blue of her irises started shifting, becoming green, then yellow and shining; the changes still weren't over, though, because - like a pod of whales emerging from the waves to catch breath - some scarlet flecks emerged in the middle of the gold, giving her eyes an even more feral look. "I-it's starting..." she murmured.

"What?" Drake exclaimed, and then the wave of energy hit him too, square in the chest. A smile appeared on his face, before it evolved into a wild grin full of fangs. Why was I hesitating? This is awesome. The blow had opened the doors of his soul, allowing the wolf to truly and completely become the same being with him. And this has only just begun... If I already feel this way now, I wonder what's going to happen to me when the change is over. And then, finally, his brain just shot down; there was no need to think during a change like the one Drake was experiencing.

The young man took a half-step forward, feeling the grass creak under his foot. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding against his eardrums in an incessant, tribal rhythm, pumping powerful blood all around his body, making him feel more alive than he had in his whole life.

"L-let the change flow," Angela murmured, outside of his field of view. "Don't fight it, embrace it, and everything will be alright."

Drake was still smiling: he could feel a pleasurable warmth gathering in his fingers, making them prickle. He flexed and contracted them, and his nails exploded into long, curved claws, longer, sturdier and deadlier than before: it was like having a set of sharp black knives on the top of his fingers, so dense and heavy they were dragging his arms down... but that was bound to change soon.

From just under the crescent-shaped base of his brand new claws, a row of hair was sprouting, dark grey and thick; it soon spread and enveloped his fingers in a lustrous pelt while at the same time reshaping them, making them stronger and longer. The fur soon claimed the backs and the palms of Drake's hands: it was like he was wearing a pair of fuzzy gloves, gloves that he didn't want to take off anytime soon. He had to suppress a chuckle between his still lengthening fangs when he felt the tingles that acted as a prelude for the appearance of his sensitive leathery pads.

Drake lifted his new powerful paws and observed them, his mind lost in wonder and amazement; thanks to his now golden, shining eyes he could notice every tiny detail of his change as if he was under a full sun. As the pelt of dark fur advanced past his wrists, his soul was torn into two conflicting and irreconcilable desires: on the one hand, he longed for his transformation into a primal wolf to be over as soon as possible; he wanted the power, the strength, the energy those big and deadly paws were promising to him to fill his whole body, turning him into a huge, burly, massive beast. On the other hand, though, he hoped for the change to last as long as possible: the pleasure he was experiencing was intoxicating, and unlike everything else he had ever felt. There were no words to describe and define it properly, and that was the reason why his brain had given up even trying.

Wanting nothing more than to increase his own arousal, Drake caressed his nipples again, pinching and teasing them until they were swollen and hard; as if the very touch of his fingertips was transformative, his already quite impressive pecs swelling into meaty, juicy slabs of muscles under his skin. "Mmmrr..." Drake moaned; a long, pink canine tongue panted for a moment, and a fat drop of drool rolled along its surface before landing on the young man's right nipple, where it stood like an impromptu piercing. "M-more..."

"Y-you're doing... ngh, you're doing fine," Angela's voice was barely registered by his ears; her tone was a bit uneven and anxious, but she was clearly enjoying her change too.

Feeling the scents and the sounds of another primal wolf transforming near him kicked Drake's senses into overdrive, along with his face: his nose widened and darkened, now moist and wet, and his mouth started extending forward in slow motion, a quarter of an inch at a time. The creaks his skull bones were giving off surprised him for a second: despite the sickening noises, there was no hurt whatsoever associated to them... But again, it made perfect sense for the change to be painless: after all, his body was in harmony with the wolf inside him, and they were becoming one and the same for the first time.

Behind his head, the scrunchie keeping his ponytail in place - the only thing Drake had still been wearing - snapped and fell to the ground in two pieces: his hair were growing wild and thick, now tinged with the same dark grey shade of his fur, the tips brushing against his backside. The grin on Drake's proto-muzzle intensified and showed saliva-glistening fangs while the soon-to-be primal wolf stroked his beard and sideburns, reveling in the pleasure of feeling them growing under his fingertips, of his now wolfish cheeks being enveloped in the warm, manly embrace of facial fur.

The changes that involved Drake's head, of course, weren't over yet: the sudden, momentary deafness cancelled all the sounds of the forest in a moment, like the mute button of a remote control, and plunged the werewolf in desperate confusion; he brought his hands to the side of his head, feeling only smooth, hot skin that was quickly submerged by more fur. Drake let out an alarmed yelp he could not hear, but the perplexity didn't last for more than another second: at the top of his skull, nestled among his ears, two thin mounds of fuzzy flesh protruded, caressed by the warm air of the late summer night, enlarging and growing to a point until they stood up proud, gathering all the noises and sounds around Drake like antennae and sending them directly to his already sensory-overloaded brain.

The first time Drake had let the wolf come out, the tail had been the last trait to manifest; this time, however, it seemed like the appendage couldn't wait for its turn to sprout. The increasingly triangular muzzle of the werewolf gaped in aroused amazement as he felt the end of his backbone pushing against the skin, eager to emerge; Drake bit his darkened lips with his fangs, and tasted his own metallic, salty blood before the tiny cuts healed themselves with the same ease with which they had been opened. The sensation his sprouting tail was sending through is whole body was so intense and erotic it was like a second cock was forming just over his backside.

Drake bent over to try and help the change, even though that wasn't the only reason: his arms, now fully covered in a luscious pelt of gunmetal fur, were now so huge and muscled compared to the rest of his body that he was forced - at least for the time being - in a gorilla-style stance, biceps and triceps bulging under the skin like those of a weight lifter. The advance of the fur wave, however, was slow but steady, and under every square inch of epidermis conquered, the workout of a lifetime took place in the matter of a handful of seconds; Drake snorted and puffed like an enraged bull, hot breaths escaping from his canine mouth: he could feel the skin of his back sprouting a bushy and uniform pelt before disappearing under it, his trapezius and lats broadening and getting thicker and thicker, until they were hardy and robust enough to once again allow the werewolf to regain an erect position... and yet, Drake chose to stay on all fours, his wide hand-paws reading the consistency of the soil and the freshness of the grass like an open book thanks to their pads. He sneered, realizing that - as a werewolf - he could not only walk like a man, but also run around like the majestic beast he was becoming.

Meanwhile, the rear part of his body was undergoing other severe changes: with abrupt, resonant cracks, like explosions of giant popcorn, the vertebrae of Drake's spine snapped and expanded, making him become six inches taller, then a whole foot, and then even more; what was even more incredible, the skin, muscles and other bones in his body elongated and widened too with no apparent effort, as if Drake's body was made of plasticine that could be remodeled with extreme ease and no discomfort.

Along with the spine, even the tailbone became longer and longer, like a thick, rigid, nearly five-feet long steel cable. Drake turned around his muzzle and let out a whimper of disappointment: the appendage was furless and ugly! How could he be proud of something that looked like a long sausage covered in grey skin?

No major change was taking place during that moment, and the werewolf managed to give a good look to his whole body through the veil of arousal clouding his eyes: from the abdomen down, he was still human, and even though his legs had seemed strong and fit when he was a human, now that he was turning into a primal wolf they looked frail and pathetic like twigs. Drake growled in frustration through his gritted teeth: now more than ever, he wanted his changes to be over; he wanted to run, he wanted to howl, he wanted to mate with his alpha. He wanted to be a true and complete werewolf under the pearly, wonderful light of the full moon.

As if his body was nothing more than a plaything of his mind, the transformation resumed at an increased speed: his flat belly contorted into a solid and ripped eight-pack, and even after they were covered in fur it was still possible to see the outline of the perfect hills of muscle. Derek yipped, wanting to caress and touch them so badly, but he was afraid that his still human legs wouldn't be able to sustain the weight of his growing body.

Finally, the wave of fur reached his tail, making it blossom. Like a forest growing in fast forward, the magnificent dark grey plumage enveloped the appendage all the way up to the pointed tip, making it fluffy, splendid and glorious as it should have been. Drake started wagging it in pure happiness, lashing the air like a big branch in a strong wind.

With a sudden yet welcomed click, Drake's toenails darkened and honed to a point, burying themselves in the soft ground. The still changing werewolf exhaled a sigh of pure delight in feeling his feet becoming robust paws, perfect for supporting his huge, massive physique... And when his calves started developing a pelt of fur and a proper musculature, something else stirred to life, the only part of him that still looked human, at least for the next couple of seconds.

When Angela had surprised him with her sudden arrival, Drake's cock had retreated itself for the embarrassment like a hermit crab in his shell; now, however, modesty and shyness were concept so alien for the mind of the werewolf that there was nothing to prevent his dick from standing erect. As always, the sensation of his foreskin rippling and transforming into a furred sheath was almost unbearable, an invisible hand masturbating him and hitting all the right spots with its expert fingers; Drake started drooling from a corner of his muzzle, and the frothy fluid fell on his paws, that contracted and flexed rhythmically and dug furrows among the tender grass. His amber eyes transfixed onto his groin, Drake watched in ecstasy as the familiar scarlet, blood-swollen, pointed dick emerged from his furry house... except this time it was thicker than a can of beer and more than a foot long. His balls had grown too, heavy and big as ripe lemons, and his scrotum was covered in a soft fuzzy pelt that was waiting only for the touch of a playful tongue.

Drake bent down towards his turgid dick and licked the pearl of precum resting right on top of it. The taste of his own fluid was just what his brain and body needed to lighten the fuse of his climax: the werewolf, now taller than eight feet, stood up in all his strength and glory, his triangular muzzle pointed towards the sky; as his cock pulsed and throbbed, spraying strands of dense, stringy cum and painting the bark of the tree in front of him with the yellowy liquid, Drake let out a powerful howl that resonated all around the woods like a thunderstorm. The orgasm seemed endless, going on for nearly a minute, but his lungs had enough capacity to let him keep howling for the whole duration of it; the sound was fearsome, fascinating and wild, full of freedom, arousal and excitement. The perfect symbol of what being a werewolf was.

After the wave of pleasure had subsided, Drake panted and took a long, good look at himself for the first time: his gunmetal fur and mane were gorgeous, and he buried his claws in them, reveling in their softness. He was massive, a muscled powerhouse filled with the boundless energy of the full moon; even his dick, despite having just cum, was still erect and apparently ready for another round. Drake felt strong, horny and powerful... No, he felt invincible. I'm so glad I let Wyatt bite me, he thought, a wicked grin on his muzzle. It's the best decision I've ever taken.

"M-my god... You are huge..." the voice of Angela sounded amazed, even alarmed; she had a certain growling quality to it, but was otherwise comprehensible. Drake, who had completely forgotten than his packmate was there with him, turned around to look at her.

Drake discovered he was dwarfing the female werewolf, but that was because - as she had aptly noticed - the change had made him grow obscenely, and not because she was small: she was at least six feet four from her paws to the top of her skull, and her body was packed with muscles like that of a female bodybuilder; her pelt was darker than her usual auburn hair, and under the moonlight looked blood-red and incredibly silky. Of course, she still had her scarf tied against her now larger neck. "I... I..." she muttered, her ears lowered in a clear gesture of submission and complete surrender; she looked at him with her unique flecked eyes and yipped, a desperate arousal filling her voice. She opened her legs a bit, revealing her wet, moist vagina. "I-if you want, I... I will be..."

Drake's grin widened. What a cute little bitch, he thought. She's so horny... I bet she'd love having my prick stuck in her pussy, pumping hot seed inside her belly. He licked his lips in a predatory gesture, and took a step towards her; she moved back in response, her fur upright and her eyes open wide in fear despite the clear, poignant smell of excitement exhaled by her private parts. Why is she hesitating? She wants to mate, right? She wants to be mounted by a strong wolf, and... Drake stopped thinking for a second and shook his massive head. W-what's wrong with me? She's Angela... She's a packmate, a friend. And she looks so scared... "I... I'm sorry, Angela," he growled at her, softly. "I didn't want to, you know..."

The wolf girl stared back at him, perplexed. "Y-you mean... you mean you will not..."

He shook his muzzle again. "I won't do anything that you don't want. I promise."

Despite being a powerful beast, Angela looked like she was on the verge of crying. "Thank you, Drake." Her ears relaxed and perked up a bit. "I think... I think I want a hug, then."

The two werewolves spent a long, tender moment in the arms of one another; even if the smell of Angela's estrus still made his cock throb and his nose sting, Drake tried to focus on the warmth of the fur and the skin of the werewolf girl instead of his own horniness: he lowered his muzzle, placing his forehead against Angela's in a gesture of friendly complicity. "Thank you for being here with me," he told her. "Oh, and by the way, your eyes..."

Angela broke up the hug and lowered her red-furred head in shame. "I... I know, they..."

"They are beautiful. You're the first wolf I've seen with eyes like that," Drake said, nodding.

This time, a tear managed to escape from one of Angela's eyes. "Thank you..." she muttered. A short, deep, broken howl reached the ears of the two wolves, and Angela did her best to smile. "Patrick is calling for me... You should go and find your own mate, too." And with a flicker of her bushy tail and her scarf, despite her size, she disappeared among the trees in an instant.

Drake stepped into a patch of moonlight and took a deep breath, taking all the countless smells of the forest in. She's right, he thought. I have to find him. I have to find my alpha.

* * * *

It stood up, barely giving the bloody remains scattered around him a glance, and shook itself off to rid itself from the last stains of humanity trapped in its drippy, messy fur. Crimson eyes browsed the surrounding, blackened lips baring long, yellowed fangs. It took a couple of steps forward, easily climbing outside the trench, one of his powerful paws coming down to crash the empty vodka bottle under his dark, unforgiving claws.

It didn't have a name. It didn't need one, since no other creature in existence had any need - nor any reason - to call for it. Unless, of course, they were harboring the desire for the cruelest, most painful demise imaginable.

It didn't have a mind. It didn't need one, since thoughts were unnecessary and made those capable of them weak and full of doubts. It wasn't stupid, nor dumb, though: it was just made out of instinct, of thirst, of pain, and of pure, unquenchable hatred.

It didn't have a heart. It didn't need one, except for the muscle pumping dark, cursed blood all over its body. That was the only thing that distinguished it from a demon or another haunting apparition: the fact that, after all, it was a living being. And that it, too, could be killed.

It looked up and smiled at the full moon, and there was nothing but twisted happiness in that smile, and there was nothing but horrible things in that twisted happiness.

This was going to be a bloody night.

* * * *

Drake sprinted through the woods at unimaginable speed for something that massive, darting among the trees as a huge, furry bullet, leaving large paw prints in the soft soil. It was a completely different sensation that the usual runs he had with his packmates: the joy, the excitement, the feeling on being one with the nature and with his inner wolf... Everything was increased thousand-fold. Drake had no words to describe what he was experiencing, because his body and the world around him were going at a speed that was too fast for the still-human part of his brain to process. It was incredible, it was intoxicating, it was arousing... And, unfortunately, it was incomplete.

The massive werewolf stopped his trail near a small hill, the peaceful moonlight shining over his whole body. He lifted his head towards the stars above him and howled, an intense and anguished sound to express his frustration and the intense loneliness he was feeling; now that he was a primal wolf, the bond between him and Wyatt was almost tangible inside him, and the absence of his alpha was making him feel empty. I want you here, that's what the howling said. I want you with me, and I want you inside me.

"You are exactly how I imagined you, my dragon," a growling voice filled with pride resonated from above him. "Big, strong and beautiful."

Drake lifted his amber eyes, a yelp of happiness trapped in the back of his throat; Wyatt was standing at the top of the hill, looking down at him, and the werewolf's heart skipped a couple of heartbeats: the primal form of his alpha was nothing short of a miracle given physical shape. Under the bright moon of September, Wyatt was shining gold. Where the gunmetal pelt of Drake absorbed all the light, the alpha seemed to reflect it all around like a living beacon; a gorgeous mane of hair spread over his back like liquid fire, and the bronze earring that still adorned his pointed ear - and that looked so tiny compared to his new body - shimmered of a light of his own. He's a sun, Drake thought, his mouth agape in wonder, his tail wagging uncontrollably behind him. He is my sun.

Wyatt jumped from the hilltop and landed next to Drake as light as a feather; he was more than a foot shorter than his beta and significantly smaller, but his ripped body, his elegance and his handsomeness more than well compensated. "So? What do you think?" he asked.

"You are... incredible." Speaking required a great deal of concentration in primal form, Drake noticed, or at least speaking in a comprehensible way and without peppering the speech with random growls and barks. He glanced down at his alpha's groin, and his mouth started watering: even if Wyatt wasn't as big as he was, the size of their cocks was the same, and on a leaner frame the length and the thickness were even more impressive. Drake yapped and whined uncontrollably, one of his hind paws pounding against the ground.

Wyatt grinned at him. "Oooh, someone here is really excited..." He raised his arms, wrapping them around Drake's neck and forcing him to bend down. With their new muzzles and lips, kissing was a real challenge, but they solved the problems by giving each other hot and sloppy tongue baths all over their faces. "Your wolf is impressive, Drake. Now I know why you attacked me, when he awakened for the first time... Must be tough, living with someone so big inside you."

Drake shook his head, his unruly mane brushing against his head and tickling the base of his tail. "Not at all. And this is all thanks to you. If I hadn't met you, I..."

Wyatt placed a clawed finger on his muzzle, silencing him. "But you did. That's the only thing that counts." He seemed to shudder, and his cock dripped a small quantity of precum on the grass. "Y-you know, these bodies are awesome, but they are really difficult to keep still, so... what do you want to do first? Running as usual? Wanna try and hunt a deer? Or do you prefer some sexy fun?"

Drake fell immediately on his four legs, his tail lifted, presenting his ass crack to his alpha. "Does this count as an answer?" he growled in a playful, inviting tone.

"I see you don't want to waste any time," Wyatt grinned. "Are you sure? We have the whole night, after all..."

Drake turned his head behind and grinned back. "Well, at least if I like it we can always, you know... Do it again. And again. And again."

The alpha let out a fit of laughter that sounded like a joyful bark. "You're such a tease... Be careful, or I may start to take you seriously."

Drake buried his front claws in the dirt and wagged his tail. "Are you kidding me? That's exactly what I want."

* * * *

It paced around with slow, silent footsteps, exploring its new territory under the moonlight. It didn't have any hurry, because it was the night itself.

It had found the barrier quite soon, but the thing didn't bother it in the least; as long as it didn't catch the attention of the weak, pathetic creatures on the other side, nothing was going to disturb it. And after all, barriers were created to keep things inside; they were just making things easier for it.

In the middle of a small glade, it stopped, finally discovering what it had been looking for: two small, torn pieces of cloth, still stinking with the smell of its future prey... And then, some feet from there, it found another trace, this one bigger and juicier than the first one: frothy, dense fluid splattered against a tree, rapidly cooling under the later summer night breeze.

It grinned, and its own obscene, dark cock protruded from his sheath, dropping foul, revolting dark precum over the soil. It wasn't simply bloodthirsty, right now.

It was aroused, too. And it had just found the perfect partner.

* * * *

Will it hurt?, Drake thought again, feeling the pointed tip of Wyatt's cock pressing against his tight pucker for the first time. As always when he felt nervous he bit his lower lip, and buried the claws in the grass once more, this time deeper; his will to submit to his alpha, to the person who had given him a new life, a new body and a new purpose was still adamant, but the idea of having that huge, veined cock inside his butt didn't sound that pleasurable all of a sudden. For a moment, he considered asking Wyatt to stop, to tell him he was going to suck him instead... but then he thought at the expression of adorable, innocent, child-like pleasure the alpha had made when Drake had told him he wanted to lose his virginity to him. No, I can't go back to my steps now. And, I mean, I'm a eight and a half feet tall, probably six hundred pounds heavy wolfman, even if it will hurt a bit I should be able to resist just fine!

Drake felt the lithe, strong arms of the golden primal wolf hugging his midsection before his hand-paws came resting on his eight-pack, teasing the abs a bit. "Relax, my dragon," Wyatt rumbled in a tender tone. "I will be as gentle as possible... I want you to enjoy this as much as I will." His canine cock kept tracing the contours of Drake's anus, smearing slick fluid all over it.

I know, Drake thought. He knew, because Wyatt never lied; the muscles keeping his ass clenched started to relax, even if a little bit. I just have to trust him, and everything will be alright. The sensation of his ass crack being painted and coated with cool pre was indeed pleasurable, and made him chuckle through his gritted fangs. I guess I should help him somehow, but how? When he had performed anal sex on Chance and Patrick all he had to do was lubing their holes just like Wyatt was doing to him and then sliding in... But now that he was on the verge of taking instead of giving, everything seemed way more complicated. Trying to facilitate the penetration, he thrust back against Wyatt.

"Easy, big boy... You should let me in first." The alpha caressed his back with his gentle yet firm furry hand-paws. "I can feel your tension. Do as we always do: focus on our heartbeats, our breaths, our bond. Don't think, just let go."

Drake let out a long sigh. His fingers finally relaxed and stopped gashing the ground; he tried his best to regulate the rhythm of inhaling and exhaling, to calm down the frantic beating of his heart, to ease the tension of his muscles; his pucker loosened a bit, and for a moment the pointed tip of Wyatt's dick slid in. "Okay, here it comes..." the alpha whispered, and then, with a quick motion, rammed his packmate's asshole with his slick shaft, violating it for the first time.

The big, dark grey wolfman yelped in pain and surprise: the sensitive skin of his anus had been torn and stretched by the sudden insertion, and the feeling of having a foreign body stuck in his tail hole was alien and still a bit disturbing; after a few seconds of hurt and discomfort, however, the incredible regenerative power of the primal form kicked in, and the small wounds closed themselves, leaving only smooth skin behind. With the pain gone, Drake could appreciate more the presence of his alpha's dick inside him: it throbbed lightly, brushing against his insides and eliciting a series of pleasurable, fascinating, mind-blowing sensations. "P-p-please..." he begged, his mouth watering. "M-more..."

"As you wish, my dragon," Wyatt said, and started bucking. Drake's amber eyes went wide and a quick, high-pitched howl escaped his muzzle: he could feel the canine cock sliding inside of him, switching a secret button he didn't even know he possessed; it was like the centers of pleasure in his massive body were concentrated in a single spot just beyond his tail hole. Like a couple of minutes before, his claws buried themselves in the dirt of the ground, but this time it wasn't because of the nervousness: he wanted more stimulation, more sensations, more ecstasy. Drake could feel the blood in his veins rush to his cock, who was nearly purple and swelled beyond recognition; he contracted the bulging muscles of his legs and thrust back once again, trying to match the rhythm of his pushing with that of Wyatt. "God, this is great," the alpha panted, his tongue lolling from the side of his golden muzzle. "Your ass is a perfect match for my dick..."

Drake tried to answer back, but his mind was too clouded with colors, smells, stimuli and aroused to be able to formulate coherent words. "Mmmmrrr..." he purred, still focused on his thrusting: the only thing he wanted was for Wyatt to shove his cock even deeper inside him, to be fucked like a horny beast, to be the best, most perfect beta an alpha could hope for.

The two went on like that for many hot, long minutes, the silent forest around them acting as a perfect scenario for their wild intercourse. After a while, the grin that dawned on Wyatt's face was almost audible, thanks to the heavy, hot breaths passing over his pointed fangs. "N-now... nngh... comes the best part..." he murmured.

Drake furrowed in perplexity, but a couple of seconds later he understood: he could feel something happening to the dick buried into his ass, as if its base was becoming bigger and heavier. If it goes on like that, Wyatt won't be able to pull it out anymore... he thought, before the apprehension shifted into complete and total pleasure. We will become one, and I'll always feel him inside me... That's the best thing I can ask for. The realization exploded in his already oversaturated brain, and his own cock sprayed the grass underneath him, his hind paws and the fur of his belly with hot sperm. The orgasm was way more intense than the one in the glade, and for a second Drake was even afraid his self was going to be obliterated, leaving him as nothing more than a mindless beast that lived only for his own and his alpha's pleasure.

"I see someone here likes... having a knot firmly stuck in his ass..." Wyatt puffed while scooping some stringy strands of cum from the fur of his beta and sucking them from his claws as if they were jam. "S-so good..." he added, licking his lips. "C-can't resist... anymore..."

A hot torrent of seed was released in potent waves into Drake, coating his prostate and lower intestines. The feeling of his insides covered in his alpha's most intimate juice was so inebriating that Drake couldn't help but tilting his head back and howl at the moon in satisfied joy, with Wyatt joining him immediately. The golden alpha, after his orgasm had subsided, relaxed his body against his beta, who was strong enough to support the two of them with ridiculous ease. "Now we are one," he declared, his tongue still panting. "Me and your wolf, you and my wolf."

Drake turned his muzzle towards him as much as he could and gave him a toothy smile. "Wanna have another round?" he asked, his tail trying to wag despite the alpha pressing against it.

Wyatt slapped him playfully on his furred, muscled butt. "My, what a horny slut! At least wait until my knot has defl..." His body went rigid all of a sudden, the fur on his back standing upright. "We have company," he whispered, his teeth bare.

"Huh?" Drake exclaimed, browsing his surroundings. "Who?" A strong, repugnant odor hurt his nose, making him grimace and whimper. "What is this..." he started. Then he saw it, standing at maybe fifty feet from them, and his voice was driven back into his throat with a feeble, pitiful gurgle.

It was like staring at a wolf-shaped section of reality who had simply given up and had gone crazy. It was so wrong that just looking at it hurt Drake's mind; and yet he couldn't divert his stare, because its red eyes were so powerful and magnetic and full of the worst things in the world. The words of Wyatt, coming from a month-old memory, resonated in the head of the werewolf on its own accord like the voice-over of a documentary.

[I know how the birds fly, how the fishes swim, how animals run]

"Shit," Wyatt growled, the tension and the terror distorting his voice even more.

"What is that... that thing?" Drake yelped in abject horror. The bloodshot eyes of the creature were looking at him, looking through him, looking inside of him, and the werewolf knew in an instant that the thing in front of him could not be reasoned with, could not be avoided, nor it could be escaped. It was inevitable, like death.

[But there is the dragon]

"That's someone who had taken the black path," Wyatt murmured. Drake could feel his alpha trying to dislodge himself from his tail hole, but the knot at the base of his dick still kept him locked into place. "A member of the fang clan. A direwolf."

[I cannot tell how it mounts on the winds through the clouds, and flies through heaven]

"You mean... I could've become something like that?" Drake whispered, his mouth dry.

But there was no time for an answer. The direwolf was already lunging towards them at full speed.

[Today, I have seen the dragon]

(next chapter: All the lights in the sky are stars)