When I catch up to Jack, he’s stripped off his shorts and taken on the form of a large gray wolf.
Praying to both The Clawed One and The Finned One that Jack remains open-minded, I shuck off my boxers and let the moon drag my beast to the forefront. I don’t know if the glowing orb has a softer call to me than a full-blooded wolf, but I still always know her phases and drown in her song.
Jack doesn’t flinch away from me or growl in challenge as I lumber to my feet. Four webbed paws dig into the freshly fallen leaves.
The wolf snorts, then dives into the forest with a howl.
A welcoming sound.
Come, he seems to say.Run with me.
My heart clenches, and I shake my massive head to rid myself of the sentimental feeling. I don’t want emotions slowing me down on this night.
I just want to run as I’ve never gotten to before.
And we do. Jack leads me northwest, into the mountains, farther from civilization. We hunt small critters and race one another. We leap over streams and find cliff edges to gaze up at the moon and howl our appreciation. The sound I emit isn’t as smooth as Jack’s, but he still sings with me.
Is this what it’s like to have family? To have a brother?
Another scent reaches my nose.
Wolf.
Jack tenses and turns toward the trees.
The werewolf steps out, moves more curious than aggressive. The beast’s focus is on me. It scents the air, then sits and lets out a yip.
Like a question.
I shuffle forward, breathing in deeper until my moon-drunk mind identifies the newcomer.
Griffy.
I let out a bark that sounds more seal than wolf, but the bartender replies with his own and wags his tail.
Jack huffs, picking up on the lack of tension, and he trots back into the woods.
Griffy comes with us, joining our full moon run.
I hear other howls throughout the course of the night. Members of the official packs. Likely they sense us here.
I wonder if Jack’s presence keeps them away.
Then a massive gray wolf steps from between the trees in front of our group, and I rethink my theory.
This werewolf isn’t one I know—at least not by scent. But I can tell they’re powerful.
An alpha?
The mythic’s eyes are trained on me, and it gives the beginnings of a growl. Probably in response to my not-quite-a-wolf appearance.
Then something strange happens to Jack. Shadows shift and meld to him, and when they dissipate, a wolfman looms over all of us.
The night I was freed from the statue, I thought I’d imagined the nightmare creature.
But here he is, Jack in a third form.
“Friend,” he snarls, saliva dripping from a snout I don’t think was meant to speak words. “Mine.”
