Werewolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Continued from yesterday’s post: HERE

She sensed the others waiting but also caught Luke’s scent up there.

Then Hazel saw the moon. She howled once and bounded up the steps and outside.

She crouched on the grass, wary of attack, and faced the pack. She was ready for flight, even in her manic state she realised she couldn’t have a chance against all these other wolves. They stood in silence, waiting.

One Wolf moved from the pack and walked towards Hazel. She was just as cautious as it approached her but she was impatient, she wanted to be hunting.

The tension was too much for her and before the approaching Wolf reached her, she was away.

The pack sprang after her. Into the wood they followed, keeping a consistent distance behind her, neither in danger of losing sight of her, nor of crowding the newest member of the pack. Ironically, she still was not positive whether they were pursuing or following. She found that she did not care what they did. The hunger she had suffered through for the last twenty-four hours had turned into energy.

She bounded through woods and streams, over rocks and walls and down the hillside. There was a small cottage in the shallow valley, a wisp of smoke furling from the chimney. She stopped, sniffing the air. She could smell a dog close by and her hackles rose. This was all new for Hazel and part of her could still think enough to make the comparisons between this, her new life and her old life and the ordinary experiences in it. It sensed her and started barking a warning to its family. She altered her direction to avoid the cottage, wanting an easier kill. Off to the right, giving the cottage and the dog a wide berth.

Only a few seconds later, she caught another interesting scent. She followed her nose off up a meadow.

Three boys were play fighting in the meadow, dodging behind bushes, jumping out on each other and generally being brave while trying to scare the others - Halloween pranks.

Hazel circled up and around the back of the boys, giving them space so as not to warn them of the presence of the Wolves in her pack. Even now, as a complete novice, she was beginning to think like a pack leader. She was leading an ambush on the boys. As they approached the waiting pack, which were keeping back while Hazel made her choice of kill, Hazel allowed the boys to pass by her. Then she stalked them, keeping low to the grass, she could not help the growl which began low in her throat. She ceased moving when they did, and ceased the growl.

One of the boys stopped playing and whispered, “What was that?”

“It was a ghost!” one of his playmates yelled, jumping on him.

“No, stop it! I heard something, I really did!” he protested.

The third boy started taunting him, pushing him and laughing. “Are you frightened? There’s a big scary ghost and it will eat you! Run away home to your mother, little boy! Hide behind your sister!”

With one last push, the boy was sent sprawling onto his back. He got up and ran, not the way they had just come, but off, away from the awaiting pack, which is what saved his life. He did not look back, not even when his friends started squealing with terror.

Hazel watched the boys fighting; their voices were exciting to her. She was curious about them, their smells, their actions and noises. When one of them ran away, she sprang into action before any more left.

The remaining two boys watched their friend running away down the meadow; they were laughing and giggling at his fear. Then they were not laughing as they heard the snarl for themselves.

The boys froze then turned together. They were faced with the muzzle and teeth of a nightmare beast - one that would have graced their horror tales on any other Halloween and they were frozen in sheer terror. Not a squeak of fear was heard from either of them.

Hazel leaped at the boys, bowling them both over, her jaws snapping on a head, tearing skin and tender flesh. The boy that had pushed the escaped one was knocked out of the way and he lay sprawled on the grass, half-sitting, watching the slaughter of his young friend. He found his voice at last and was squealing for his mother but he couldn’t move. His screams irritated Hazel and she lifted bloody jaws from the mess she had made of the other boy’s neck, chest and head to snap and snarl at the noise maker.

That seemed to be the catalyst to the waiting pack and they descended as one and enveloped the squealing boy; the hand he raised to try to shield himself was to no avail. He was torn asunder. The hand that was raised had the fingers neatly snicked off by a huge black Wolf.

Hazel was left alone with her kill and she was now tearing at the chest in order to get to his heart and then onto the kidneys and liver. The boy’s head was off completely and the neck was a morass of skin, blood and bits of bone. His thyroid gland was gone, sought out as a sumptuous delicacy by experienced Wolves, but Hazel had found it by accident - she would not forget it.

The pituitary gland was also prized, but Hazel had not yet discovered this morsel.

When the internal organs had been devoured, she chewed on the flesh on and around the abdomen for a little while. Then she stood up and plodded away from the bodies without as much as a backward glance. The boy she had killed was quickly buried in Wolf bodies, fighting for the remnants that Hazel was leaving.

Hazel felt full and sleepy after her meal, but she realised she could not rest until she was safe, so she made her way home. She went back past the cottage and the dog set up barking again. She went onwards, back where she had once been safe - back to the hamlet.

Hazel wandered into the familiar surroundings; she passed the inn and a few cottages. One cottage door opened just as she got to it and Katherine came out of the door. Hazel watched the woman from the shadows of buildings. Katherine walked a little way from her cottage and looked around. She was making her way to the inn, back past Hazel. Katherine did not see the large Wolf crouching at the corner of her cottage nor did she notice when it started following her.

When the cottages were a little way behind them, Hazel sprang onto Katherine’s back. She fell forward and landed heavily, cutting the heels of her hands rather badly. Katherine did not have time to worry about her hands however; she was occupied with fighting the Wolf that was snapping at the back of her neck. Katherine’s spinal column was severed and almost straight after, another bite from those powerful jaws ended her life.

Hazel found the pituitary gland by pure chance, but again, she would not forget the taste. The thyroid was next, taken from the back, through the neck. Hazel heard voices approaching and so she left her kill and fled. She ran through the hamlet and past her own cottage, into the woods she loped. She did not slow her pace until she came to the clearing. She could sense the other Wolves before she saw them.

The huge black Wolf approached her slow and cautious. She allowed him to get close, and then she sprang playfully to one side and away. He stood and it was her turn to approach him. After a short while of play, he made it clear that they had frolicked enough and he turned to leave. The other Wolves followed him and so Hazel went too.

It was almost daybreak when the pack neared Oscar and Victoria’s house; the moon had long since dropped behind the horizon. Some of the Wolves were starting to walk upright. The Wolf forms were melting from the upright figures and naked people were wandering across the lawns to the house. Some were still excited from the hunt and though they looked human, a lot of Wolf was still in residence within and sometimes snaps and snarls at each other broke out amongst them.

Victoria came out to greet them and to guide them indoors. Their clothing was folded in individual heaps, set out by the servants. One by one, people found their own clothes and dressed. The large black Wolf melted into Luke and he escorted Hazel into the ballroom, still in Wolf-form. Darius emerged from the form of a large grey Wolf and walked with Luke. Soon, Hazel was the only one left in Wolf form.

Luke and Darius dressed and waited for Hazel to change. Hazel did not know what was expected of her and she lay down at Luke’s feet. Luke dropped to a crouch beside her and patted Hazel’s back.

“Come on Hazel, up you get,” Luke coaxed.

She looked up at him and got to her feet.

“You will need to rise up on your back legs, Hazel. Come on, up,” he said.

As Hazel got up onto her back legs, the sun broke through and shone through the open door, shining in a sliver, all the way down Hazel’s body, causing her to squint her eyes against the glare. The Wolf pelt melted then. First her ears and head, jaws and throat, shoulders then accelerating and finally evaporating from her sun-lightened feet.

Hazel stood bewildered and naked. Luke growled at Darius who was openly leering at her. Darius came to his senses at once and turned his head away. Luke passed his cloak around Hazel’s shoulders and draped it around her. Hazel’s clothes had been brought down from the room where she had changed into her costume on the first night and she dressed clumsily as though she had forgotten how to use her fingers.

Oscar came in through the doorway leading into the house and invited the three of them to breakfast. His arm was in a sling. When they had eaten their breakfast, Luke asked: “What happened to your arm, Oscar?”

“Hazel did this last night,” he said with a hint of amusement.

Hazel looked around at everyone puzzled.

“I did it? I would not hurt you, Oscar, I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” she said.

There was laughter, but this only upset Hazel more.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me, my dear, not on purpose,” Oscar chuckled. “You burst past me in the dungeons and I was trapped. That is how my arm was broken. Then you bit me.”
Hazel’s hands went to her mouth; she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Never worry, my love, Oscar heals quickly,” Luke said, trying to soothe his wife. There was another burst of laughter from the rest, but Hazel was not convinced.

“I think we should give Hazel the benefit of our history, before you torture the poor girl too much,” Victoria said.

“That is a fine idea my dear,” Oscar said as he pushed his chair back.

They followed Victoria through the hall to the door next to the kitchen; she unlocked it and led the way down the stairs. The stairs were hewn from the rock and were worn smooth. Every few steps there were metal rods, which held an old rope that served as a banister. Niches were carved into the wall and in each one there stood a large church candle, freshly placed there by the looks of them. The candles were the only light source on the stairs but Hazel found that they neither helped nor hindered her vision. Her eyesight seemed sharper somehow; her sense of smell more acute and she could tell marked differences between each person’s scent.

As they reached the hard-packed earth floor, Hazel realised that Luke and Darius knew where they were going. She found and clutched hold of Luke’s hand as they walked. The cellar was spacious and not as cold or damp as Hazel expected. They passed a large and well-stocked wine-rack and a few barrels of what she could clearly smell was beer. They must have walked fifty feet before they came to a bend and the room narrowed into a corridor. There was one more bend and the corridor opened out once again into another room.

She was surprised that there was a fire in a large hearth. A table was placed away from the fire so it could give its heat into the room and not scorch the backs of anyone sat at the table. That is where Victoria stopped. Oscar caught up with them all and stood next to his wife.

Hazel looked around the room; there was nothing out of the ordinary to see. There was a large box for firewood, a trunk in one corner and the table and benches. The niches for the candles were closer together and therefore it seemed to be lighter in the room.

Oscar limped over to the chest, opened it and took out a large hinged box. He almost dropped it because of the awkwardness of his broken arm, but no one made to help him. He brought the box over to the table and stepped back.

Victoria opened the box and Hazel’s nasal passages were assailed by the stench, she was part revolted and part interested by it. Victoria took out what looked to Hazel to be a moth-eaten fur. There were more in the box, but Victoria left them. She closed the box because of the smell.

“These four pelts are the remains of my direct ancestors. A friend of ours by the name of Reverend William brought them to England. He tried to bring in another four pelts in 1300 but was stopped by the English customs officers. They were described as, the bodies of four putrid wolves, which he said were required for medical purposes and which could not be obtained in England.”

Victoria put the pelt back in the box and closed the lid. The box was airtight and the disturbing stench was closed in with the pelts.

“As you know, Hazel, we are Wolves. We are ancient beings and extremely powerful. Our history is swathed in mystery and I believe none of our pack know the true beginnings of our way of life, save to say that the first ever man-Wolf was Rolf. I am direct descendant of him, which is why I am next in line for Lycaeon,” Victoria said. “My grandfather is Lycaeon now but no one knows his whereabouts. Maybe he knows our history, but he never told my sister or me so I do not know. My father tried to overthrow my grandfather, his father, but was killed for that, as was my mother. My brothers were also killed for supporting him. My sister and I were spared because we were too young to have taken part in the battle, and our grandfather took it upon himself to school us in the ways of our species.

“We are supreme beings. We are human and civilised or we are Wolf and feral. When we are born to be Wolf we can change at will from puberty, with practice. We grow increasingly stronger with each passing season and noticeably stronger when the Full Moon approaches. As the moon wanes our strength wanes too, yet even at our lowest, our strength is far greater than any ordinary human. Our strength peaks at Full Moon and over those three nights we reign - in terror if we wish.

“Our bodies only age if we do not feed. As you found last night, there are glands in humans that are far tastier morsels than any other meat. We physically need those glands to repair our bodies. Last night, you injured Oscar,” Victoria said, and then paused.

“I really didn’t mean to do that...” Hazel protested.

Victoria waved her hand impatiently and said: “Yes, yes. I know that. Oscar, show Hazel the injuries.”

Oscar stood and took off the sling. The sleeve of his shirt was pulled up and the break in his forearm was clearly visible through the skin. It was a very nasty break and Hazel gasped at the sight of it. Then Oscar limped around the table and took off his hose. The gash along his thigh was wide open and looked agonizing.

As they watched, the gash began closing. They heard a grating noise as Oscar pulled the break in his arm straight. The gash was no longer open; it now looked like a wound which was perhaps a few weeks old. Then it was just an angry red line. Soon it looked like old scar tissue and then there was no trace of injury. The hairs started growing back over where the scar had been, first they were white, and then they visibly darkened. By the time he had finished, there was no evidence of his leg ever even being bruised. Oscar slammed his broken arm down on the table, making the box leap into the air along with Hazel, Luke and Darius.

“He is healed. That is how long it takes for an extremely bad injury. Just imagine what an experienced Wolf can do with a small injury,” Victoria continued. “You will feel the benefits of your new self, Hazel. You will not become ill with minor colds, disease may touch you, but will be fought off with the ferocity associated with the new you. We have survived plagues unscathed; we emerge from war victorious.”

Victoria sat down on the bench, her back towards the fire, whilst Oscar remained standing.

“We cannot only heal ourselves, however, look…” Oscar extended his right arm and it changed before her eyes into a Wolf’s front leg, complete with claws. “We are truly miraculous creatures; we have - eventually - full control over the shape of our bodies. We can change at will.”

Hazel gasped in amazement.

“Hazel, I am like you. I was made Wolf; I was not born into the clan. I am Piaculum. Victoria’s sister was asked to make me. You see, we cannot make a Wolf for ourselves. If we wish to marry and have children then we can, but the Wolf we marry cannot be associated with us directly - related if you wish - otherwise the resulting children are ruined. They either die at birth or grow to become insane. There are no exceptions to this. They are called ‘Throwbacks’. Our First Laws tell us that we cannot allow a known Throwback to live; otherwise eventually they will betray all of our kind. You are allowed to make a Wolf yourself as a companion. You are even permitted to mate with them, but as long as you know, any children that happen will be killed, either by one of the parents or by any of our kind and believe me, it is far more pleasant that the parents kill it than if they are found by an outsider. That is why you were made. Luke fell in love with you and asked his friend to make you. It is a bond of sorts. Sisters make partners for their sisters and brothers make partners for their brothers. We mate for life; once a marriage has taken place then only death can separate the pair. That is why Luke asked Darius to make you; Luke looks to Darius as a brother and it was a great honour for Darius.” Oscar stopped talking as Hazel abruptly stood.

She darted a look at Darius and then to Luke.

“It was Darius that attacked me? He made me?” Her voice was not steady but she tried to control the waver in it. “It was you?” Tears welled in her eyes. Darius’s Wolfish smile did nothing to assuage her misery. Victoria saw the dismay on Hazel’s face and could only make a guess at what was troubling her. She guessed wrong.

“Luke could not possibly have made you for himself, Hazel, Oscar has just explained that. He fell in love with you and in order to marry you and have children - healthy children - with you, another Wolf had to whelp - or make - you. I know it has been a shock to you this past week, even the past two nights, but you will come to terms with it, I promise. One day Luke will share his own whelping with you and you will learn from it, I am sure.” Victoria tried to comfort Hazel.

It was all getting too much for Hazel to absorb and she moved away from the table and said: “I need to have a lie down, please. The last few days have been very strenuous for me and I would like to sleep.” She swayed a little and both Luke and Darius went to catch her as she swooned. Luke scooped her up, out of Darius’s grasp and carried her back through the passage to the steps.

All images from Pixabay.com