Worries of a First-time Werewolf

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

---

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

"Hnnnhh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rrrrr," growled Wolfie in a soft tone.

"Alpha? Sticks?" Graham tried.

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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