Free? What? What the fuck is happening?!
Calm, the voice repeats, and with no effort from me, I hear the distinct scratch of claws on linoleum as my body moves toward the window. I have to step up onto the sill to see outside.
Because we are short.Iam short. Why am I short?
Wolf, now, the voice supplies, but I'm distracted by the view.
It's the same as always. People walking, filling the sidewalks. Cars block the streets. Vendors chat, businesses opening for the day, despite the holiday. Old, dirty snow packed along the sidewalk.
It's the same view as always, and yet I see more. I can see the steam from the man's coffee as he leans on his stool in front of his newspaper and cigarette stand. I can see the expression on the women in the nail salon across the street as one tells the other a story, animatedly wielding her hands for greater impact.
And I can smell everything, too. The coffee in his cup. It's stale, like he got it at a bodega and it sat too long on the hot plate. He pulls out a pack of gum. I can smell the mint burst as he bites into it. It fills my nostrils, bright and sweet. I can smell the chemicals from the nail salon and the perfume the women are wearing.
I'm eight stories up, but I can see and smell everything as if I were right there with them.
What the fuck is happening to me?
Wolf, the voice says again in a bored tone.
What? I can't be—this can't be happening. I can't be—I try to clear my thoughts, to rush around my apartment, to find a mirror, a fucking phone, anything to help assure me that everything is fine, but my body won't move.
Your body. And mine.
Okay, who the fuck are you? And WHY ARE YOU IN MY HEAD!I screech silently.
Calm. Wolf,she says again, with a hint of annoyance.
Jesus fucking christ.
That guy from last night. It all rushes back, in patches, too fast for me to process. He bit me. He must have accidentally changed me. He was trying to kill me. And I thought he was a werewolf. Iknewhe was.
Not werewolf. Stupid.
Did you just call me stupid?Oh my god, I'm arguing with a voice in my head. I urge my body toward my bedroom, and I know it's only because the wolf allows it that she gets up and saunters into the open room.
And when I turn the corner to look in the mirror hanging on the back of my door, I scream.
Silently, because I'm trapped.
Not trapped. Calm, she urges.
Stop telling me to be fucking calm! Turn me back. Make it go back! How did this happen?I frantically race through question after demand after question, not giving her time to answer, because I'm freaking out. But she doesn't react. In fact, she sits right on her ass and begins licking her paw.
And I watch this other self in the mirror take control of my body and my voice, and all my questions and demands disappear, because the panic has boiled over and I'm in shock.
Her coat is auburn. Red, like my hair, only darker. She has white markings around her muzzle, and I can feel her preen as I comment internally at how beautiful she is, and it makes me want to roll my eyes and scream, but I can't!
So I watch. And try to calm down. Eventually she lifts her eyes, and my blue eyes, bright and crystal clear, are staring back at me. And it's like I can see myself in them, peering out from inside the wolf.
We stay like this for some time, just staring.
Memories from last night attempt to fill in the blanks. The pain and fear from being bitten, attacked.Did he make me like this?I ask, for the first time acknowledging that this must be real. The proof is right there in the mirror, in my inability to just stand up on two legs and scream with my own voice.
I'm a werewolf.
What do I do?
We go north, she supplies.Not werewolf. Stupid.
