The moon alights the sky beyond my window, and beckons me out into the wilderness beyond the deck. The woods are dark, cast in a mighty splendor of shadow and moonlight, and begged me to run beneath green pine and over moss-stained rock. I gaze, and I tremble at the offering that sings in my blood and makes the dark hair over my body lift, tinged with a wild energy that begs to let go, to run, to flee this trapping, this cage of wood and glass and electronics. I pace, wearing a trail into the carpet, and feel the stain of sweat cross my underarms and throat and back and groin, and yet I know I need to stop, to pause, to breath. I breath, a cool breath that fogs out. I am steaming. The windows are open.
Breathe in. I taste the cold air that stings my nostrils and burns down my throat like fire, making me gasp for another breath. The scent beyond tells me of prey, a doe rabbit that would taste good, and the sweet copper beneath her breast. The scent whispers the stories of the small pack that runs beyond the cabin, drawn to me as I am drawn to them, they knowing my scent, as I know their trails, marked across the whole of the mountain. They are unchallenged, and they are mine. Another breath. Water, melt from the snows a thousand feet higher, wet, some fish and even the musk of a bruin.
I breath out and snort, clawing at my arms with nails, and fighting the build of need. I pace, my nails caress the walls, leaving gouges in the wood that would be quite a bitch to cover. I stare at the torn nail, twisted by the force of wood and splintering pine, and then rip it off. The hot flare of pain sends a tingle up my arm, and makes me growl, but it fades, letting me control the need again.
Yet again it builds.
The pain flows away to the gnawing hunger of the inner self, the instincts that caress up and brush across my face, and the ripple of dark hair that flows up and fades away. I want to scream and claw and tear through the house, but I know not to threaten my domain. I have fought this change for too long, and I have to let go. I do not want to let go, I am afraid to let go, I want to stay a human for a little while longer, but no, I know I cannot hold back. Like the crest of copulation, I feel it well in my gut and slowly tighten, threatening to push me into the oblivion of the run, the chase, the hunt. The pack howls, and they call upon me to join them, to let free what I am and take my place. My head rushes, a throb of blood that threatens a headache, a splitting migraine, the rearranging of my visual cortex making my vision blur, then sharpen. Colors lose definition, others rise up that have no word. I am losing myself again…
…I am almost free. I am almost awake. I can run! I can...
...In the fight to be myself |a little longer, my hand shifting into…
…clawing the metal why wont it open why wont it let me out trapped in my den…
…claws, the knob hard to turn. I snarl, biting at the air as my face begins to contort, twist, bone cracking. I held off too long, and it was going to hurt. Like being denied the touch of a lover, my body twists from the sudden rush, and I throw the door open, enough to twist the hinge. My body rips, as muscle and bone and sinew begin to change. I am a large man, already nearly 130 kilos, and two meters tall, and this translates directly as fur ripples across my body, sending my back twisting. I claw…
...held by restraints must get free tear free of the body the cloth the binding the pack howls I must run…
…the shirt off and feel my nails twist. Already the torn nail has reformed, and the nail grows longer, into black claws. My thumb twists, a sharp snap reforming the bone into a better shape. My teeth crack and grow longer, fangs showing…
...runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun…
…in the gleam of moonlight. My snout shows as I drop, feeling the earth. I begin…
…to howl. I sing, and the pack answers.
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