Leaping over a downed branch, Trinity's gray wolf body tore through the dense forest, her mind a blank slate. She reveled in the moment, in the simple joy of the chase. The air was a crisp burn in her lungs, cold with every breath. Above her, a flock of birds scattered from the trees, their wings beating the air with a soft rustle. Her large tongue slipped between her snout, a wet swipe across her teeth, a primal gesture of hunger.
The snow beneath her paws was a crunchy whisper, a feeling of cold, damp powder with each stride. The dampness of her fur, a constant companion, clung to her body. Her thoughts were simple, primal—a gnawing hunger in her belly, a need to hunt, to kill, to eat.
In the distance, she spotted a flash of white—a rabbit. Her focus narrowed, every muscle in her body tensed in preparation for the chase.
Just as she was about to spring forward, a low rumble vibrated through the ground, a noise that registered in her ears as a low hum. She froze, a jolt of fear coursing through her. With a fleeting look over her shoulder, she turned and ran, unsure of the disturbance behind her and choosing to flee based on instinct alone.
Behind her, eight other wolves, a kaleidoscope of colors—brown, gray, black, white—pursued her with relentless speed.
Their hot breath, visible in the cold winter air, fogged the space behind her. The sound of their paws pounded against the damp earth, kicking up clumps of snow with each push off their hind legs. They were close, and as she ran, she felt a piercing sensation in her mind, a mental assault that sent her reeling.
At first, it was just a sensation, an aggressive prodding as if someone were physically pushing on her skull, trying to work their way into her brain. Then, it became more forceful, more aggressive. As she ran, she couldn't help closing her eyes against the sensation, the sheer force of the unknown assault. She howled in agony as a word burst into her mind, a single, invasive word, thoughts projected directly into her brain: "Vartos." It was screamed over and over in her head by competing voices—some of aged men with lower registers, others of women with high-pitched notes, some in low husky rumbles.
All of them created a cacophony of pain erupting behind her eyes.
The word repeated, an echo chamber of sound and feeling in her head. "Vartos. Vartos. Vartos." It was a mental attack, a violation. Her concentration shattered. She lost her footing, stumbling, her paws slipping on the slick, snow-covered ground. She clipped a tree with her shoulder, the impact jarring her body, but she kept running, the frantic rhythm of her paws against the snow a counterpoint to the relentless mental assault.
The word was a hammer against her consciousness, a drumbeat of pure, unadulterated thought. "Vartos," they chanted, a chorus of silent, terrifying intent.
Finally, in a moment of desperate clarity, a thought of her own broke through the shouts: What does Vartos mean?
The moment the thought formed, her body rebelled. The change was violent and aggressive, a brutal upheaval of flesh and bone. Her wolf fur rippled, a wave of gray and white that convulsed violently before shedding itself in clumps, falling away from her body as if it were a foreign substance. Her bones groaned and cracked, reforming, reshaping, the sound of splintering and fusing a symphony of pain. Blood seeped from her pores, a crimson sheen on her skin as her body contorted, a raw and graphic transformation back to its human form. The change happened in a matter of seconds, a violent, aggressive shift that ended with her rolling on the ground, a tumble of human flesh until her back slammed into the unyielding trunk of a tree.
She was naked, terrified, and pressed against the rough bark, her body slick with a mixture of sweat, blood, and fear. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion. The air was silent now, the mental assault gone. She looked up to see the eight wolves that had been chasing her. They had stopped, forming a perfect semicircle around her, their bodies still and waiting. As she watched, they too began to shift, their forms rippling and changing, their fur falling away, their bones reforming. One by one, they all changed back into their human forms, standing before her, also nude, their eyes fixed on her.
In unison, they all bowed their heads, exposing their necks in a gesture of deference. Their faces completely faced the earth as they showed their Queen the respect she deserved.
As they slowly began to lift their heads, one council member spoke up, his voice a low rumble. "Her eyes be the color of the starless sky." He knew this wasn't the queen he was looking at. This was a feral wolf.
"What is the name you bear?" Another council member asked, stepping forward and lowering his body to the ground, trying to meet the Queen's size.
Trinity's mouth moved awkwardly, as her fingers touched her throat. Her jaw moved erratically as she tried to remember, tried to form words, remembering that she wasn't just a beast, that she once had human skin. Her voice was rough and strained. The words came out of her mouth like a second language. "Who be you?"
"The Council!" one answered, exchanging looks with the others.
"Who?" Trinity asked, her long, wiry blonde hair falling over her face.
He had feared this would be a problem. The Wolves of the Shadowfang Pack always suffered with mental defects. "The sickness of her pack be also hers."
"What ought I do?"
"What might we do?"
"She cannot be our Queen." The council member in charge of the Russian territory pack spoke up.
"Pardon me, my Queen." Trinity couldn't hear it, but the council members all shared a vote amongst each other, speaking into each other's minds. The vote had been unanimous. Their Queen couldn't be this girl.
"May the Goddess grant me forgiveness." He prayed to the skies, hoping that the Goddess would forgive him for his ultimate sin. He slowly, calmly made his way over to the Queen that would never be.
"May ye run in the fields of our Goddess unending."
Trinity was confused as the man kneeled before her, speaking in a soft, gentle voice. Only to scream in the next moment as his claws shifted and slashed at her throat. Trinity screamed.
Gripping her shoulders, Timothy tried to stop Trinity's thrashing. But she was in a nightmare. He'd been trying to wake her up, shaking her softly. She kept muttering as if something was terribly wrong.
"Vartos." Trinity jolted awake, her gold eyes shimmering in the darkness of the room as she spoke the words that had probed her mind.
As she calmed down, she realized that it wasn't her screams that she was still hearing. Looking over the edge of her bed, she saw Timothy writhing on the ground in pain as his body rippled. He was shifting. The strange words crashed on his body violently. He was screaming in pain, clutching his head. His mind felt like it had shattered. Dropping to his knees, he didn't understand what was happening to him.
Trinity watched as Timothy's nails clawed at the floor painfully. His bare chest sweating, beads of blood began to bloom through his skin. His sleep shorts slipped down his legs as he thrashed in pain, the once-white carpet turning red. His skin rippled and danced with the energy of his impending shift.
Her words left her lips like a quiet whisper. As she clutched her heaving chest. "What did I do?"
Authors note:
These chapters are a little bit shorter, for a reason. Powerstones, vote, comment you know I love all the things.