Hope's Story

This is a short story I wrote for my girlfriend's christmas present. It's basically a fantasy allegory for our relationship from my point of view.

High in the mountain tops of the Dragon Spine Mountains, nestled in a quiet and secluded valley, was the village of Stagshelm. Stagshelm was a quiet town, known for breeding hardy and loyal horses but other than the occasional travelling caravan they remained secluded from outside world.  

The forest, commonly known by the people of Stagshelm as the Witch’s Wood, surrounded the village as far as the eye could see. The forest held many mysteries and with those mysteries came stories. Children were warned again and again to stay away from the forest when the sun began to set, for at night it was believed creatures both natural and magical would take to the forest paths to hunt. Occasionally a villager would report seeing flashes of unnaturally colored eyes from the tree-line or an unusual sound from the dark but so far no creature had passed through the ring of torches around the village. It was commonly believed that if the villagers avoided the forest at night then the beasts in the forests would avoid the village.

Because of its seclusion in the mountains the little village of Stagshelm cultivated its own culture. The settlement had been formed by a group of rather romantic young men and women, who after forming the village passed their beliefs onto their children. Love was love, no matter the form as long as it didn’t hurt anyone. Doing what made you happy was strongly encouraged but as mentioned earlier, you could do no one any harm by pursuing this. Of course over the years there had been a constant flow of immigrants to Stagshelm. Some, people later came to learn, held beliefs drastically more conservative than their own. Because of this, the village had an unusual division of the people who had been born and raised by descendants of the original settlers and those raised by newcomers who had decided to stay and make a life there.

Despite this duality, the village lived in relative peace, except for the occasional dispute between “travelers” (as the immigrants were commonly called) and the “settlers” (the descendants of the original settlement) but these were settled by a council of wisely elected people from both sides.

In the village lived a young woman, she was the daughter of the local blacksmith. The best example of a settler if there ever was one. Her name was Feralan. It was common knowledge in the village that she was a rather unique young woman. Instead of helping her mother, who was a seamstress, she could commonly be found out by the forge helping her father mend farm tools or hammering out the occasional piece of armor. However, she was polite and good-natured so the people of Stagshelm treated her as any other. She was built like her father, stocky and short, with a soft face that held inquisitive eyes the same cool shade of blue as her mother’s. Her hair was cut short, a unique yet not uncommon style in Stagshelm, and the auburn shade of fall leaves. She inherited a light dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose, her shoulders, and arms but they had faded considerably as she grew older.

She was well-liked amongst people her age but shy when it came to speaking.  Her more bold friends often took up the slack when it came to social situations, in which she usually chose to shadow someone until she became more comfortable and able to open up. Her friends consisted mainly of young gentlemen, who rather than treating her like they would most young ladies, treated her like one of their own. When not assisting her father she could be found amongst the other boys, tossing comments back and forth about passing women, or off in the woods exploring and challenging each other to feats of bravery and strength.

It was one such day where our story truly begins. Her father had recently received an order for a set of armor. Despite the distance he lived from any major city, his skill often brought in customers from around the realm. Feralan was assisting him as always, hammering out small buckles and clasps to hold the plates to the body.

“Patience, Feralan. Do not rush these. Wouldn’t do for a knight to lose his greave during battle.”

“Of course, father.” Feralan mumbled and tossed another buckle into the finished pile. Truly she enjoyed working in the forge but it was times like this where the tedium wore on her nerves. Luckily, she was offered an escape.

“Oh Ferry land. Come out and play with us.” A voice called from the doorway. The young woman looked up and grinned at the sight of her best friend. His name was Gregory. He was tall with dark skin and short ruffled hair. Despite his imposing size, joviality radiated from him and it was often difficult not to smile when around him.

Feralan swiveled her head over to her dad, mouth already poised to offer a plea. “Go on, you’ve done enough for now. Thank you for the help.” Her father cut in with a slight smirk before going back to hammering out the chest plate.

The now free young woman cried out delightedly and ran out the door, shoving Gregory in her haste to get outside. Outside waiting for her was also Barrick. He was tall and lean with short spiky blonde hair and a grin that bordered on a leer. Behind him stood an almost unbelievably tall and gangly young man with a dozy expression, commonly known as Wesley.

“What are we doing?” Feralan asked, her head tilting to the side as she looked from friend to friend.

“We figured we’d go explore the woods.” Barrick replied. The group shrugged their assent and followed the well-trodden path to the edge of the forest.

As they stepped into the trees they all felt the slight change in the air. A sort of electricity. No one spoke, however. They simply shrugged it off and continued walking. They paid close attention to the sun as it was never safe to be in the forest past the afternoon. However, it was only just midmorning so they felt they had plenty of time. The small gang traveled along a well-trodden deer path, and soon they began laughing and joking as they usually would.

“So there’s this traveler girl I saw the other day . . .” Barrick, always the lady’s man began. The rest of the group groaned tiredly.

“Again? Must you soil every girl in the village?” Gregory replied and flicked Barrick in the back of the calves with his walking stick.

“Only the ones worth my time,” Barrick smirked. “This one might just be worth it. Eyes like a stormy day and a nice pair of�"“

“Okay!” Feralan barked, bringing up the rear as always. “We get it. And if you want to keep your bits you better stay away from her if she’s a traveler like you say.”

“Aww you’re no fun, Ferry.” Barrick mumbled. He tossed a glance over his shoulder as they continued up the forest path. “It’s that girl in you . . . We must rid you of that.”

“No! We need that . . . It’s secret incite.” Wesley piped up suddenly from his spot in the line right in front of Feralan.

Feralan rolled her eyes and they continued to tread lightly up the path.
After an hour or so of walking which put them right at midday they reached a large shallow pool. On one side was a small waterfall that fed fresh water into the pool and on the other end was another, carrying the water farther down the creek.
“Time for a swim, me thinks!” Barrick announced and begin stripping off his clothes. The three others shrieked in disgust and covered their eyes to which Barrick simply laughed and dived into the cool water. It wasn’t long after that that the other boys joined him, leaving Feralan lounging on a large flat rock in the sun.
The dappled rays of sun shining through the trees warmed the skin of the girl’s face and she sighed lazily, dozing off as the boys continued to swim.
---------------------------------------------------

She awoke with a start, and scrambled up onto all fours. It was cold. The sun had long gone and as she gazed around she realized she was no longer by the pool. She wasn’t even outside anymore she realized, as her eyes adjusted to the soft firelight.

Her hands groped blindly in the shadows and she felt the scratchy wool rug beneath her palms. How did I get here? Where am I? It’s so dark. I should be home. Who’s cabin is this? These were the questions frantically racing through the girl’s mind as she stumbled to her feet and swung her head around in search of the door.
There! Across the room was a door. If she could just get outside she could find her way home. She took several tentative steps across the room and was reaching for the door when a hand came down on her shoulder. The sudden warmth startled her and she shrieked in surprise, spinning around and slamming her back against the door.
Standing before her was a young woman. She had short dark hair, olive skin, and deep brown eyes so dark they were almost black. The woman, who seemed to be about her age, flashed her a secretive smile. “Hello.” Her voice was smooth and soft and despite herself Feralan relaxed slightly, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
“Hi . . .” Feralan blushed under the stranger’s gaze and crossed her arms across her chest. Despite the comfort radiating from the woman before her she couldn’t help but feel a nagging sense of unease. “Where am I?
“Well you’re in my home, of course!” the dark-eyed girl laughed as if this was quite obvious. “You just . . . wandered in . . .” That sly smile had returned to her face and she took a step forward. “I like you.” She purred softly and stared up at Feralan, her dark eyes shining with the firelight.
“W-what?” Caught off-guard by this statement, the lost girl pressed back against the door and blushed more heavily. She found it difficult to look away from those dark eyes. They seemed to hold so much, laughter, affection .  . . but most of all secrets and they drew her in until she was unable to tear her gaze away.
Suddenly warm hands were cupping her face. She was pulled into a kiss before she could pull away. Her mind went fuzzy, as if filled by a thick fog. “I’ve watched you.” The lips that had been so recently on hers were now at her ear and she vaguely realized she was leaning heavily on the mysterious woman. “With your young men. But you’re not like them. No . . .” The dark voice chuckled. “Would you like to be my little pet?”
This focused Feralan’s attention and she whimpered softly, trying to shake the fog from her head.
“No,” Came the sharp reprimand and the fog in her head thickened until she could barely see. Her head was tugged back by the hair and sharp teeth dug into her throat. A sharp whine escaped the entranced girl. “Now,” Her captor pulled back. “That wasn’t really a question. You are my pet now. Don’t worry . . . I’m sure you’ll like it. I can see there’s a touch of the wild in your eyes already.”
Feralan was pulled into another kiss, this one rougher than before. She was pinned against the door that would have provided her escape by the stifling weight of the small, yet imposing woman before her.
One hand remained in her hair and the other slithered around her throat. A gasp of terror was cut short as the hand tightened into a vice light grip. The mark on her neck from the woman’s bite seared in pain and she tensed. “Now just you stay still.” The dark voice admonished her as if she were a difficult child. Feralan’s hands desperately clawed at the woman but she could gain no purchase. The unnatural strength of the woman holding her throat was quickly causing her to lose consciousness and her struggles weakened.
“That’s it. Just relax and it’ll be over soon enough.” The hand that had been in her hair stroked her cheek. As blackness tugged at the corners of her vision she vaguely realized too late. Witch  . . . and she sunk into the blackness.
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“Wake up, my little beast. This is no time to sleep.” The voice penetrated the deep fog in her head. It sounded far away but it called to her and she struggled to obey it. As she began to resurface she realized she was on the floor again, this time on her stomach. Her chin was resting on the rug and her arms were curled protectively around her head.
“Awaken, my sweet.” There was that voice again. It was soft and sweet and yet . . . It held a soft undertone of force. A demand? Her ear twitched.
Her heart pounded loudly in her ears and panic washed over her. Everything was coming back. Waking up in this position, the bite, being held by the throat. Her eyes shot open and she scrambled backwards.
Her foot came down on something bristly and she yelped as pain shot through her backside. She tumbled backwards and shrieked. Or at least she tried to. A strangled bark escaped her mouth and she brought up her hands to cover it.
She froze. Her hands. They had to be, for when she flexed her fingers the monstrous paws in front of her face flexed as well. Long obsidian claws shown dully in the light and she opened her mouth to scream. A long eerie howl was what emerged and she covered her face in horror.
A soft whimper escaped the paws as she felt her elongated face, and damp twitching nose. She tenderly ran her new hands up over her brow until she came to her ears. They were long and pointed with small tufts and as she heard a sound to her left they both twitched in the direction. She gasped and wrapped her arms around herself.
“There you are. Enjoying your new form?” Feralan looked to the voice and growled nervously, the threatening sound starting deep in her chest before emanating from between clenched teeth. The witch was kneeling beside her, her expression vaguely smug. “Now now, my pet.” Her hand shot out and Feralan winced. The hand came to rest between her ears and stroked the soft fur there. “What a fine piece of work you’ve become. You will be quite a beast to reckon with.” Her eyes slowly opened again as the hand continued to stroke her fur. Now that she inspected the rest of her form she found she was entirely covered in fur, the majority of which was raven’s wing black intermingled with red and white speckles that covered her arms, back and tail.
A tail. That’s what she’d tripped on. She stared at it and it twitched slightly as if it possessed a mind of its own. “Pet.” The word was spoken sharply and she turned her head back to the witch on the floor beside her. “Stand.” The girl turned wolf stood clumsily before she could stop herself.
This new form was as alien to her as it was terrifying. She struggled to stand upright but her spine would not allow it so she hunched, her arms at her sides and bent at the elbow for balance. She swayed awkwardly and hunched over further as her elongated wolf-like feet forced her to walk on her toes.  The witch looked up in admiration at the large wolf and raised one hand to stroke the protective main of thick fur that wrapped around her neck and covered her chest.

“When the moon rises, the beast may call to you. When a stranger treads in the forest your task will be to . . . remove them. You will protect the forest from those nasty little humans and keep my lands safe. This,” her hand slid upwards to the wolf’s throat where glowing silver markings formed a delicate ring around her neck. “will be your only warning. When the sun rises it will disappear and you may walk amongst your fellows as a . . . human.” The word was spoken with disdain and the caressing hand tightened around her throat once more. Feralan whimpered and tried to wriggle away but even in this more powerful form she was helpless.

After a terrifying moment her grip loosened and her hand dropped to her side. “Now go. Hunt, run, be the beast I have transformed you to be. Some day perhaps you will thank me this gift.” With that the door behind her swung open and a woosh of cool fresh area washed across the wolf’s twitching nose.
Freedom. The woman stepped out of her way and she leapt forward, the rough pads on her palms hitting the floor as her new form encouraged her to shift onto all fours. She was outside in seconds, her claws finding purchase in the soft forest floor. Her new nose brought in more scents than she’d ever encountered and she ears twitched erratically to catch all the sounds barraging them. She quickly lost focus on her efforts to find her way home, the canine instincts that came with her new form coaxing her into a run that took her effortlessly through the trees.
She ran, paws beating a steady rhythm against the soft blanket of pine needles and moss. It calmed the desperate fear that fogged her mind. Her thoughts faded, the need to find her way home a distant memory. All that remained was the forest, its many sounds and smells, and the soft ground under her paws. Feralan was gone, the beast was free.

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“I found her! I found her!”

A huge mountain of man in a dark tunic, riding pants, and worn knee-high boots barrelled through the double doors of the forge. Feralan’s father looked up from where he had half-heartedly been hammering away at a broken pick axe. There were dark circles under his eyes and his posture was hunched in defeat.

“I’ve found her, Ulfric!” The huge man grinned proudly and hefted the unconscious young woman in his arms. She was muddy and wrapped in his large coat, sleeping with her head on his shoulder.

“By the gods . . .” Ulfric, Feralan’s father, stood slowly. His expression was that of hopeful disbelief. “But a week . . . A week in the forest and there she is?” He rushed over and the large man laid Feralan out on the wooden table her father was hurriedly cleaning.

Her face was scratched and covered in smears of mud but she was otherwise unscathed. “Thank you, Torn. Where did you find her?” Her father asked and stroked the sleeping girl’s forehead gently.

“Well I was leading one of my horses around the edge of town and there she was, curled up at the base of a tree in a torn shirt, sleepin’ like a young colt.” Torn was one of the town’s most revered horsemen and a good friend of Feralan’s father.

“A week . . . Gone a week and she just appears one day, no worse for wear.” Ulfric shook his head and sighed. “The forest has granted us a blessing for once. Come, let us tell her mother.”

The two men exited the forge and the sleeping girl moaned softly, curling into the jacket and nuzzling her cheek against the smooth table. Her arm slid off the table and hung limply, splatters of mud trailed up to her elbow. Her hand was incredibly dirty and mud caked around her finger nails.

A few moments later Feralan’s mother burst through the doors, followed by Ulfric and Torn. “Oh, my baby!” She cried and ran a hand along the side of her daughter’s face. Her palm came away streaked with mud and she sobbed fearfully. “Is she all right? Ulfric! Why is she asleep?”

Her husband took a step closer and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine, dear. She’s just sleeping but if you keep speaking at such a volume I’m sure we’ll find out because you’re sure to wake her up.”

Sure enough, Feralan grunted and her eyes flickered open drowsily. She immediately covered her eyes at the mid-morning light that filtered through the open forge doors. “It burns!” She groaned irritably and the group around her sighed.

“She’s fine.” Ulfric relaxed visibly and helped his daughter sit up. “Where have you been? The boys came back just before dusk claiming you’d been sleeping on a rock one minute and the next you were just gone! A week! No trace of you!” Now that he’d found his daughter was safe, Ulfric became angry, his voice slowly rising to a near shout.

Feralan ducked her head, images of snapping jaws and raven black fur flashing disorientingly through her head. A husky voice whispered softly in her ear as a phantom hand closed around her throat. You mustn't speak of this to them my pet. For they would have both our heads. Friends or foe a wolf is always to be feared. She swayed and her father rested a hand against her back, his expression turning guilty. “Well . . . never mind that now . . . We’re just happy you’re back.”

After having a bath and getting dressed, she was sat down at the table and a large plate of food was set in front of her. It was devoured hungrily as her father watched her curiously across the table. “Wolfing down your food I see. You must be okay.”

Feralan froze for a moment, her mouth full of food and her eyes clouded over. She shook her head and smiled slightly before finishing off her second plate. There was a loud commotion at the door and they both looked over. Gregory and Barrick were trying to squeeze through the door at the same time. Wesley could be seen standing behind them with a smile and as he noticed her watching he raised a hand in greeting.

“If you’d just let me go first!” Barrick shouted and brushed himself off as he stepped into the kitchen.

“I was already at the door! You just had to shove your way in!” Gregory barked and shoved his friend in the shoulder. Wesley followed in after them, leaning jauntily against the doorway. “Anyway!” Gregory’s attention was finally drawn back to his friend at the table. “Feralan! You’re back! Where did you go!? Where have you been?! What happened!?”

The girl simply sat and waited for the questions to finish trickling out of her friend’s mouth before she replied. “I don’t know. I fell asleep and the next thing I know I’m waking up on the table in my father’s forge. As far as I knew you guys carried me back home. But knowing you all that can’t be right because I imagine you would have just shoved me into the water when you all decided to leave. And my father said something about a week?” Her head tilted quizzically and she scratched behind her ear.

Gregory’s face became more and more confused as she spoke and by the time she asked her question he was at the table staring hard down at her. “Yes, a week! And except for these little things.” He raised a hand to gesture at the small scratches on her face. “You’re in as good condition as when we lost you!”

“Oh my . . . “ Feralan gasped softly, feigning her surprise. She knew exactly where she’d been. She hadn’t known the exact amount of time she’d spent in the woods but she remembered the witch, and changing, and then flashes of the forest. Well . .. she remembered everything until it all became hazy like she’d dreamt part of it. She wished she could believe that was all it had been but part of her wouldn’t allow it. Maybe it was that every noise was slightly too loud and clear, or that she could smell every ingredient in the pantry as if it was right under her nose. It had happened. All of it.

“Well . . .since you’re back,” Barrick who had been surprisingly quiet this whole time cut through her silence. “Would you like to go wander around the village with us?”

“Oh!” The young woman blinked and nodded, “yes, let me just put on some boots and fix my hair.” She quickly stood up and all but ran out of the room and into her own bedroom. The door was closed softly behind her and she moved quickly to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her. Same as it’d always been. She tilted her head slightly to the side and inspected her neck. The collar of silver was gone and so was the mark where she’d been bitten. There were small scratches across her cheeks as everyone had stated but other than those she looked the same as she ever had. She ran a hand through her hair and pushed it away from her face with a weary sigh.

What now? Maybe it had been a dream. She looked as she always did. But how could she explain her new senses or the fact she’d been gone a week. A week! It didn’t seem that long. Then again there were periods of time where her only memories were of feelings. Excitement, hunger, confusion. The more she thought of these the more dizzy she became and she quickly shook her head to clear it.

Her gaze was drawn back to the mirror and she cried out in shock. Her irises, normally a soft grey glowed a dark midnight blue. She covered her mouth and whined softly but as she watched the color faded and returned to her own. When they’d finally returned to normal she let out a sigh of relief and moved to slip on her worn leather boots.

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When Feralan stepped outside her friends stood there waiting for her. It seemed that once everyone had found she didn’t seem out of the ordinary, life went back to normal and they pretended nothing had happened. This was fine by her. She knew life wouldn’t go back to normal but the more she mulled over the witch’s small intervention in the forge earlier she realized what did happen would have to remain a secret.

“To the market!” Barrick announced. He strutted off and the rest of them followed along for lack of a better idea.
“You just want a pass at the girl again.” Gregory moaned but continued to follow along like the rest of them.
It seemed that no one wanted to risk another mishap like Feralan’s disappearance so staying in the village was their only option. They sauntered lazily down the heavily trodden dirt road toward the center of town. The packed earth between their feet gradually transitioned into smooth cobblestones and the buildings changed from residential cottages to professional looking businesses. They came to where the street ended and instead funneled into a large open courtyard, the center-piece of which was a large stone fountain with a rearing stag in the center. Small stalls and booths bordered the edges of the courtyard selling anything from leather goods to fresh produce and everything in between.
It was around noon by the time they’d reached their destination so the market was positively bustling, the majority of the townspeople selling or trading goods amongst each other or exchanging gossip and news from around the village.
The many sounds and smells threatened to overwhelm poor Feralan, and she moved to stand behind her three friends. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered, her ears and nose trying to focus on one scent or another and making her dizzy with the effort.
“Are you all right, Fer?” Wesley asked nervously. This drew the attention of the other two who had been continually bickering on and off the entire way there about whether this girl Barrick had been speaking of was even interested in him.
“Yeah, you don’t look too good.” Gregory added and leaned in closer. “Your eyes are a funny color . . .”
Feralan bit back a gasp and quickly dropped her hands. “What? no! I’m fine. You’re being ridiculous. I’m fine. Barrick! Where is this girl you won’t shut up about?” She knew her friends too well. They would worry but being young men they hated to show it and would take any opportunity to lighten to the mood.
“Of course!!” Barrick barked, for he tended to be unreasonably loud. “Well I do believe she is around the fountain at this hour. I hope that friend of hers isn’t around. Or her aunt . . .” Barrick shuddered and lead them through the crowd.
The longer Feralan was immersed in the chaos around her the easier it became. She found if she focused hard enough she could block out the excess noise or even focus on one particular sense. In fact if she really focused she could hear just about any noise she wanted to. Her head twitched in the direction of a voice becoming gradually louder as they walked and she squinted slightly as she focused in on it.
“Ugh . .. He’s coming back again, Sara.” A gentle yet clearly irritated voice sighed.
Another voice, in the same direction as the first replied, her tone sharp. “Well tell the a*s go bother someone else! You’re not interested so why do you put up with it?”
“I don’t know! He just won’t leave me alone! Looks a bit like a bird don’t you think?” Both voices disintegrated into laughter and Feralan couldn’t help but smile slightly. They were definitely talking about Barrick. His face was rather sharp and he tended to move in swift almost fluttery motions.
“There she is, boys. Let me just show you how to win a lady’s heart.” Feralan’s eyes, which had glazed over as she listened, glowed a deep blue. She finally turned her gaze to the young women she’d been eavesdropping on and stopped dead in her tracks. Barrick was making his way towards them, Gregory and Wesley flanking him on either side. Their target looked to be a girl about her own age, with short blonde hair and a kind face. Although now her expression was one of irritation and apprehension. She wore black pants and soft leather boots up to the knee, with a simple dark blue tunic which was loosely laced at her chest.
Feralan squinted, taking half a step forward. Tattoos? There seemed to be writing just below her collar bones but the tunic hid it. Tattoos were not unusual in stagshelm but travelers rarely had them due to their conservative beliefs. She was a traveler was she not? That is what Barrick had said, if she recalled correctly.
She was drawn closer to where Barrick was now standing over the girl. She was sitting on the edge of the fountain, a sketch pad in her lap. This girl, the one Barrick was hell-bent on, didn’t seem particularly interested in talking to any of the boys in her small gang. Her friend, Sara, was scowling openly at them.
“Go away, you stupid boys. She’s not interested and neither am I.”
“Why don’t you let the lady speak for herself?” Barrick drawled, never one to back down without a fight. Whether it be with fists or charm. “Hope?” He turned his gaze back to the traveler girl and flashed her what he thought was his most charming smile.
Hope, as she’d recently been named by Barrick, finally raised her head fully to meet her friend’s gaze. Feralan finally reached the small group, having been moving very slowly for some reason unbeknownst to even herself. She now stood beside Gregory who was standing on Barrick’s left side and closest to Hope. When the blonde raised her head to stare through her bangs she was struck by the brilliant color of her eyes. They were an icy blue she’d never encountered and she imagined they’d pierce to the heart of anyone she’d set them on. The wolf girl was instantly mesmerized, her slightly confused expression melting into one of sheer wonder which she quickly shook her head to rid herself of.
“Please leave me alone.” Hope spoke quietly but firmly, her voice bringing a slight smile to Feralan’s face. Hope had yet to notice her, unlike her friend who was now staring at her with a look of snarky bemusement.
Barrick was quickly backpedaling, struggling to keep face amongst his two friends who were struggling not to smirk. “Come now . . . Give a guy a chance? I’m handsome,” Feralan snorted at this and everyone glanced her way until she blushed. He continued, “you’re beautiful,” his friend released another sound, this one sounding vaguely like an agreeable grunt. He chose to ignore it this time and finish his plea. “We could make a lovely couple at the Lunar Festival.”
“Leave her alone, you a*s. Hasn’t she told you enough, she’s not interested.” Sara had apparently grown bored with Barrick’s ramblings and was fixing him with a disdainful glare.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” Barrick growled irritably and stepped in closer to Hope, barring her view from Sara. “Don’t let her sway your judgement, my little flower.” The young woman in question was shrinking away from Feralan’s tall friend, her nails digging into the clean page of the sketch book in her lap. Barrick continued to lean in, his face moving intimately closer to the blonde’s.
A deep growl came from behind Gregory but before anyone could find its origin Feralan had pushed him to the side and grabbed Barrick by the shirt collar. “No.” She barked firmly, her voice rough and commanding.
All three boys cringed, Barrick especially who was struggling to work his shirt out of his small friend’s vice-like grip. “Ferry! Stop it! I didn’t mean any harm! Hope! Tell her!”
Hope remained silent, her eyebrows raised in surprise as she leaned away from the young man and stone-faced young woman before her. Sara simply smirked, finding any punishment to the arrogant boy amusing. The fact that it came from a female half his size and apparently a friend of his just made it more entertaining.
“Apologize, young Barrick. Apologize for harassing the young lady.” The wolf girl’s voice held the undertone of a threatening growl. Barrick looked away, eyes fixed on the ground at his feet.
“I’m sorry, Hope. I will not bother you anymore. Forgive me for my boldness.”
“Thank you.” Were the only words Hope spoke in reply, although her icy gaze was not on Barrick but the woman holding him. Feralan’s skin prickled pleasantly and she flicked her gaze from Barrick’s slightly terrified face to Hope’s.
The blonde gasped, her eyes locking with those of the stranger before her. Feralan winced at the sound, her head tilting to the side so she only watched the blonde out of the corner of her eyes. “Now Barrick, I believe it’s time we take our leave.” Still entranced by the traveler girl’s presence she released her friend and he scrambled backwards into Wesley and Gregory. “I apologize for any inconvenience, good ladies. Have a fine day.” And with that she turned, an ache beginning in her chest as she turned her eyes away from the blonde on the edge of the fountain.
“Good bye” the words were faint and had she been who she was before the forest she’d surely not have heard it. But as she was now she clearly caught it and smiled, her eyes flashing their deep blue for a moment before she picked up speed to catch up with her friends.

The rest of their day was spent on the fence of Torn’s horse pasture, Barrick ranting about how ridiculous Hope was being, Gregory and Wesley laughing at his rejection, and Feralan sitting quietly on the end smiling vaguely as she remembered the girl with the soft smile and the enchanting eyes.

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The days passed and the normalcy continued . . .almost. During the day, she’d help her father in the forge or go on various adventures (always in the village) with her friends. When she roamed around town, alone or with friends she occasionally saw Hope. There was often a sketch book with her and on  some occasions she seemed to be completely oblivious to the world, sketching out something with a look of intense focus. However when she wasn’t and Feralan caught her attention she’d be offered a shy smile and on a few occasions she’d even chance a small wave. The wolf-girl would smile back, just as shyly, her heart beating almost painfully loud in her chest. By now Feralan had realized her eyes often changed color ever so slightly when she was excited. Or angry, or scared, or extremely happy. So far, oddly enough, Hope was the only one to notice and would gaze at her in confusion before Feralan managed to busy herself or scamper away.
They had yet to actually talk, much to Feralan’s chagrin. She had of course imagined doing so numerous times but her bravery never extended to reality. Her friends had noticed her interest and had taken to mocking her good-naturedly on her failure, which they had decided was greater than Barrick’s for they were sure she was interested as well this time.
While her non-relationship with Hope was taking up a great deal of her time it was not her entire focus. There was the issue of her increasingly canine abilities. She could still hear better than any human should, smell things like a blood hound, and in the dark her eyes would glow a bright blue and allow her to see almost perfectly. When she slept she dreamt of running through the trees, her wide snow-shoe feet carrying her through the forest in a shadowy blur. Often she’d jerk awake in the early morning, tangled in her blankets and itching frantically as if she could claw her way out of her skin.
Her canine abilities showed no sign of fading, in fact the longer she lived with them the more she learned to control them. However she’d yet to change again so she hoped that part of this curse was over. Perhaps she’d imagined turning into the wolf, maybe her new instincts had taken over when she’d escaped the witch’s cottage. It was difficult to remember a lot of what happened. This argument with herself was almost a constant presence in her mind and it calmed her to believe she’d simply hallucinated in her panic.
Days became weeks, which became a month and her routine returned to normal. One evening she returned home after helping Torn in his stables. She smelled of horse and fine bristly hairs of every color poked out of her dark jacket and pants. She scrunched her nose at the smell, focusing instead on the moist air that promised a light rain when the sun ducked fully behind the mountains.
Today had seemed like any other. She took the offered bowl of hardy stew her father offered her and headed to her room. She’d been working her way through a new book a friend had loaned her. It was about a valiant lady knight who traveled the lands protecting and aiding any citizens she came across. She sat on her bed and shoveled spoonfuls of stew into her mouth, flipping a page every so often. About halfway through the chapter she’d begun an itch blossomed in the middle of her back, just between her shoulder blades.
She arched her back against the pillows behind her in an attempt to satiate the ever-growing annoyance but it just continued to grow. It spread farther over her back and up over her shoulder, branching out across her chest and down her arms.
By now Feralan had set her bowl on the small end table next to her bed and was sprawled out scratching desperately any inch of skin she could reach with her nails. Suddenly her neck burned and her wind-piped closed as if someone were holding her down by the throat. The sensation lasted only long enough for her to whimper in pain before it faded.
She stumbled over to the mirror and gasped in shock. The collar of silver, its intricate knots shining mockingly in the candlelight, had returned. She ran a finger over the design tattooed in the soft skin of her throat and sobbed.
No . .. It was real. All of it. Her options flashed quickly through her mind. Tell her parents? No. Not even to be considered. Ignore it? No, the itch in her skin had calmed into an uncomfortable tingle all over her skin. What had the witch told her . . . . The forest. She’d change soon. If anyone saw her in this state she’d be hunted down like . . .well like an animal.
She glanced to the door and shook her head. No, she couldn’t. Her parents would hear. Her gaze shifted to the window and her resolve returned. The window. She could make it. Feralan’s room was on the second floor but it looked out upon a grassy courtyard. If she hung out the wind and dropped to the ground she’d only fall around four feet.
Her window was open in seconds. She decided boots weren’t an option and a jacket would just be lost in the woods. The girl carefully climbed out the window, gripping the windowsill as she shakily lowered herself as far as her arms would allow. With a deep breath she dropped. For a sickening moment she believed she’d miscalculated and the drop was farther.
Her feet hit the ground and she dropped onto her back with a soft oof, the wind knocked out of her. She lay there for a few moments until her breath returned before jogging across the yard and out the gate.
She stepped out onto the dark street, the crescent moon her only source of light. This really didn’t bother her as her eyes adjusted, the soft blue glow allowing her to see well enough to navigate the many shadows. The tingle grew and her bones began to ache, cracking and popping with her every step. Her pace increased until she broke into a full run.
Before she’d even begun to pant she reached the edge of the village. A lone torch marked this part of the ring of safety surrounding Stagshelm. The forest loomed above her but the ominous quality it had always held was gone. It called to her, its comforting nighttime sounds beckoning the wolf inside her that was struggling to claw its way to the surface.
The shadows of the tall trees draped over her like a calming blanket, the sound of her bare feet disappearing in the cushion of the soft pine needles. A sharp pain cut through her stomach and she doubled over, stumbling to the side to lean against a fallen log. The pain transformed into a slow burn that spread throughout her limps and she dropped to all fours with a pained groan.
She’d been saved from the pain, the first time she’d changed but now it engulfed her. She screamed as her jaw cracked and extended. Inky black fur sprouted in the spot between her shoulder blades and feathered out to the cover the rest of her in a thick protective coat. The beast dropped to her side as her spine snapped and reformed into a more hunched figure.
When the alterations finally finished she lay panting on her side. No longer human. She’d returned to the wolf. However, she thought more clearly now. Her was mind no longer clouded with the panicked emotions of a trapped animal. She was left room to explore the coaxing urges that tinged the corners of her mind.
She dragged her large form up onto all fours and flexed her clawed toes so they raked through the soft dirt beneath her paw pads. A light breeze whistled through the trees and ruffled her coat. It rippled along her back like a field of grass and she shook her shoulders. With the breeze came a flurry of scents. She recognized a few. Earth, water, a rabbit, decay . . .and a new one. It intrigued her with its familiarity.
Her large head tilted to the side and her nostrils flared, inhaling deeply to absorb as much of the new scent as possible. It drew her forward and she padded silently on all fours through the trees. It lead her to the familiar well-worn path the villagers frequented. She dropped her head and snuffled avidly at the packed earth. There were many of these familiar smells but they all came with the tinge of age and wear. Except . . .for one.
Apples . . . a touch of something acidic . . .and that smell common to all the scents on the path. Her curiosity drove her forward. Her head lowered and scanned side to side to keep the scent trail in front of her. The trail continued off the path and into the trees again. She trailed through the trees, catching glimpses of broken tree branches and shallow foot prints. Foot prints?
A confused grunt escaped her maw as she stared down at the foot print pressed into the dirt. She raised a huge paw and held it over the print. Her paw engulfed the image in the dirt and she whined in confusion. Human? Pointed ears twitched. Yes, human. The great head nodded slowly before she continued on, her eyes fixed on the prints and her nose twitching with the soft scent filling it.
She had become so fixated on the senses she was following she didn’t hear the soft sobs until they suddenly stopped. The wolf looked up in surprise and found herself in a small clearing. The prints she’d been following circled around the clearing several times and finally stopped in the middle where a young woman sat huddled with her knees pulled up against her chest.
Feralan froze. No one could see her like this. As an animal. A monster. She back-pedaled as quietly as possible.
CRACK
Her foot had come down on a stick and snapped under the weight. To her large ears the sound was deafening and she winced, hunkering down on the ground with her ears pressed back against her skull. The young woman jerked, her head lifting quickly as her gaze flickered in her direction.
She shrieked and scrambled backwards. The terrified sound startled the wolf and the fur along the back of her neck and shoulders bristled. She barked in response, planting all four paws on the ground and tensing suddenly.
The young woman’s blonde hair shown in the moonlight as she scrambled backwards against a large tree trunk. Her breathing came in shallow pants and she pressed against the bark of the tree as if hoping she could melt into it. “Please! Please don’t hurt me! I didn’t mean to trespass! I just got lost!!
Feralan tilted her head at the words and focused intently. Familiar . . . Her eyes flickered to a light spot on the forest floor where the blonde had been moments before. Drawing? Dark blue eyes flicked back and forth between the book of blank pages left on the ground and the girl still frozen in terror against the tree.
Her mind flashed backwards to a human time. The fountain. A young arrogant man. A snarky young woman. And finally a quiet blonde with a sketch book held to her chest. Her! The wolf perked up in surprised, her ears quivering delightedly even as the human voice in her head panicked. She can’t see me like this! The internal voice was faint and her simpler wolf mind listened half-heartedly. She’ll be afraid of us! Get away! Her other mind, the one currently in control, commanded her to creep forward. Her body lowered to the ground away and she slinked forward, her head outstretched and nose quivering as she snuffled her way closer. Help Hope. I will help her. The wolf had decided this was the best plan of action despite her human rationale's constant warnings.
Hope watched her through panicked eyes. Her eyes . . . Even in this form she was struck by their brilliance and it caused a small whine to escape her. The large wolf was only a few feet away now and she practically laid flat upon the forest floor as she stretched to inspect the woman up close. Hope whimpered in fear and the wolf immediately froze. Scared . . . Hope was scared. Of her. No no no. She shouldn’t be. Feralan wanted to help. Her canine mind reeled frantically and she back pedaled once again. This time she backed into the middle of the clearing, one of her front paws planting in the forgotten sketch pad.
She looked down at the parchment under what used to be her hand. It was now marred by the mud that caked her foot. A quizzical noise escaped her jaws and her head tilted curiously to the side. She dropped her muzzle and sniffed the page before turning her gaze back to the young woman who owned it.
Hope seemed slightly less panicked now. She still pressed up against the tree truck and hadn’t moved but she no longer seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating. Their eyes met and she let out a sound of confusion. “Your eyes . . . Who are you?”
The wolf’s ears twitched at the question. She recognizes my eyes? Of course she would. There was her humanity again, recognizing what her wolf could not. Her gaze dropped to the sketch pad again and she dropped her head to clutch it carefully between her teeth.
Her head and tail stayed low as she crept forward again. When she was a few feet away she craned her neck out, offering the slightly muddy sketch pad to the woman before her. The seconds passed in painful slowness but she waited, eyes fixed on Hope in a silent plea. Minutes passed before a hand reached out and grasped the edge of the pad of paper.
The wolf immediately relinquished her hold and stepped back. Her rump plopped down on the ground and she thumped her tail once. Her eyes sparkled delightedly, their midnight blue glowing softly in the moonlight that draped across her shoulders. She allowed her tongue to loll out of the corner of her mouth, and her human side hoped her wolfish grin wasn’t too terrifying.
Apparently it wasn’t because Hope giggled softly, sliding down the tree trunk until she sat leaning against the base with her sketch pad in her lap. “Either this is some cruel trick the forest is playing on me or someone has sent you to save me,” Hope stated tentatively.
Feralan liked Hope’s voice very much and it sent her bristly tail swishing behind her at the sound. She panted pleasantly and continued to watch her, her face the epitome of canine enthusiasm.
She spoke again. “You wouldn’t . . . be able to show me the way home, would you?” Her voice sounded scared again and it made the wolf’s heart ache to hear it. She replayed the question in her mind until her animal brain understood it. Her great head nodded excitedly and she bounced to her feet. She rose onto just her back paws and danced backwards.
Hope shrank back slightly at the wolf’s height and Feralan immediately dropped to all fours again. She was still slightly taller than the human but when all her feet hit the ground her shoulder’s only came up to the girl’s head. This seemed to calm her new human and she stood, taking a tentative step towards her. The wolf turned around and trotted off back the way she’d come to find Hope.
“Wait wait! I can’t go that fast!” Hope cried fearfully and hurried after her. Feralan slowed her pace to a walk and allowed Hope to catch up. “Thank you.”
Feralan lead her silently back through the trees and onto the path. She hesitated for a moment, considering whether this was far enough to take her. After much thought she shook her head and continued down the path, leaving a baffled Hope in her wake.
When they finally reached the break in the trees the moon was high in the night sky. Hope came to a stop beside the wolf, her hand coming to rest on her massive shoulder. The beast shivered delightedly and leaned into the touch. A deep rumbled began in her chest and her eyes closed.
After a long moment Hope removed her hand and hugged her sketch pad to her chest. “Well  .. . thank you for leading me home. I dunno what I would have done if you hadn’t found me.”
The wolf bowed her head and gruffed softly. Then with a sigh she pressed her nose to the young woman’s back and nudge her off towards the village.
“Good night.” Hope called softly as she trotted off. Feralan sat in the shadows of the trees and watched her until she disappeared. She whined softly before she turned and padded silently into the trees. There she found a soft mossy spot sheltered by a fallen tree and curled up. Her tail wrapped around to cover her face and with a soft whine she fell asleep.
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The sun beat down on her face and she growled irritably, bringing her hands up to cover her closed eyes. Her palms felt gritty against her cheeks and her eyes flew open. She sat up and gazed around to find herself . . . in her room? Human again, Feralan looked down at herself. The tunic she’d slept in was inside out and the legs of her pants were bunched up around her knees. Her hands and feet were caked with mud, which was of course now on her bed.

She groggily stumbled over to her basin and washed off the mud. Her head replayed the events from the past night. They were fuzzy but she remembered it all. Except. . .getting home. She wasn’t sure how that had come to be but she was glad for it.

Her wolf form had guided Hope home. She’d got to spend time with Hope. She laughed delightedly and pulled on new clothes. The irony of getting to truly meet Hope while in her wolf form did not escape her. She snorted and trotted down stairs to grab breakfast.

After eating she made her way to her Father’s forge. She’d been working on her costume for the Lunar Festival over the past few months. The Lunar Festival was the biggest event in Stagshelm. It was the only event that the entire town came together to enjoy. It had been celebrated as long as Stagshelm had existed. No one was entirely sure why it had started but some believed it’d been created as a night to bring the travelers and the settlers together, at least for a short time. During the lunar festival the villagers would dress up in elaborate costumes. Often they’d spend all year putting them together. Masks were always integrated into these costumes. The idea was that for one night the people of stagshelm could be whatever they chose to be and if they chose to reveal themselves for who they were that was celebrated but it was also common to remain anonymous. This lead to many new, yet short-lived, friendships.

Feralan absolutely adored the Lunar Festival. This year she’d decided to go as a knight. Her father had given her the tools and would assist her in making her armor. So far she had crafted a bright silver shoulder pauldron. It consisted of several rounded plates that had been riveted together like scales. They trailed down her arm to where they stopped just below her elbow. It was held on by buckles that clipped it to the breast plate she was currently working on. The breast plate was molded to her chest and stopped just above her midriff. She’d riveted leather to the sides of the plate and was currently boring the holes into the leather so the piece could be laced against her back like a corset.

She glanced up at the shelf to where her father had placed her favorite part of the costume. It was a silver helm. It closely resembled a Valkyrie’s. A metal band laced together at the back of the head and placed at her temples were strong intricately detailed wings. They feathered out above her head and dipped down low to protect her cheek bones. Between her eyes was a protective nose plate. With her helm on and her delicately designed war paint applied no one would recognize her.

The costume was almost complete. Her father was working on attaching plates to her dark boots and they’d yet to find her suitable weapons but she was proud of her work and unlike most costumes hers was actually armor. Ulfric had decided if they were making her armor it was going to be real. Taking this as a learning experience they’d been working on this project all year long. She learned to make her own armor while helping him in the forge. They had just three weeks until the Lunar Festival and her excitement grew as every day passed.

She was singing softly to herself and threading a leather strip through the holes on her breast plate when Hope walked in. Feralan was so engrossed in her work and singing she didn’t hear the door open.

The young woman watched her sing and when she finally finished her song with a long howling note she cleared her throat to get her attention. The blacksmith’s daughter yelped and hit her knee on the bottom of the table in her haste to spin around. She swore and breathed sharply through gritted teeth as she turned around. Her curses were immediately cut short as she caught sight of Hope and a dark blush spread across her neck and cheeks.

“oh ah . . .Hello. W-what can I do for you?” Feralan asked quickly and and subtly rubbed her bumped knee.

“Yes, ah . . I’m supposed to pick up something.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. One moment,” Feralan replied and moved to the table with all the finished projects. She dug through packages until she heard the voice behind her again.

“Don’t you need my name?”

The red head froze and let out a quiet frustrated noise. “Oh! Silly me. Yes. Name please?”

“Hope.”

“Ookaayyy.” She finally found the package with her name on it. It was small, only about the size of a loaf of bread and she spun around to hold it out to the blonde.

Hope was still standing at the door, the morning light filtering in behind her which made her hair cast a golden halo around her head. Feralan was struck by the image and stood staring. She was standing too far away for Hope to easily take the package and after a long moment she realized this and took the tentative steps forward to bring it within her grasp.

Hope took the package from her and they met eyes for the first time that morning. She blushed heavily and she felt her eyes flash again to which Hope bit down on her lip in confusion. If this was going to happen every time they made eye contact she was going to go insane, Feralan decided.

“Do .. . Do I know you?” Hope asked quickly and looked away.

“You know my friend Barrick.”

“Oooh . . . yes. I do know you. Thank you . . . for stopping him”

“You’re always welcome. He’s not as bad as he seems. Just a bit pig-headed.”

Hope smiled shyly and let out a small laugh which made Feralan grin proudly. Their eyes met again and it seemed as if she was searching for something for the confused look returned to her face. “Well, thank you for my order I’ll . . .see you around.”

Feralan watched her rush out and scratched behind her ear before returning to her work.What was she looking for? Does she recognize me as the wolf? Her heart beat loudly in her chest for a few moments. No . . . She couldn’t. How could she? That’s silly  . . . She shook her head and held up the finished breast plate. It was missing something. The smooth metal glinted in the light as she stared at her own hazy reflection. Plain . . It’s plain. She pulled out a small chisel and took to hammering out a pattern into the metal.
She worked for an hour or so, carefully chiseling out the thin lines . When she finally finished she held up the plate once again. In the center of the chest she’d carved out a large paw print. In the pad of the print that would be considered the palm she’d carved a celtic knot. She smiled at her work and set the breast plate on the shelf next to the helm. “Now for this bland shoulder armor.”
Feralan set to work on chiseling a small border of celtic knots onto each plate of the pauldron. This took her the majority of the day and when the sun finally set her hands ached from clutching the tools but her work was done. She was exhausted.  The intense focus of hammering out the small details drained her energy and she stumbled up to her bedroom where she promptly collapsed into sleep.
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Feralan awoke the next morning and stumbled drowsily down the stairs.

"Ah! She is alive after all!" her father exclaimed as she stepped into the kitchen.

Feralan grunted in return and proceeded to dig through the pantry for something to eat. She reemerged a short time later with a large chunk of bread in her mouth and sat at the table.

"Did someone pick something up, yesterday?" Ulfric asked and sipped his coffee.

His daughter nodded and swallowed a mouth full of bread. "Hope picked up a package. What was it by the way?"

"Ah yes, that is between her and I. It is for the lunar festival you see and she wished it to remain a surprise."

She made a disgruntled noise as she continued to eat her bread but remained quiet. Three weeks until the lunar festival and the days were rapidly flying by. It was beginning to make her nervous. Would she change again before then? Or worse, would she change that night and miss the festival all together? At least the anonymity allowed her to slip away unnoticed.

Unless . . . Barrick, Wesley, or Gregory found her. They were quite adept at it, really. They’d always arrive separate, in costume, and none of them would tell each other their plans. Yet somehow they always found each other. On several occasions Feralan had labored to create a costume that would provide her enough of a disguise to go unnoticed but she always failed.

No, slipping away would not work. They’d surely know she wasn’t there. What they would do when they found her missing, she couldn’t fathom but she knew she’d never live it down. She supposed she’d just had to hope that no one wandered into the forest and triggered her change.

The day passed uneventfully while she once again worked on her costume. Today she’d finished sewing a forest green tunic. It hugged her curves snugly and she admired her handy-work in the mirror. It hung to her mid thigh and was bordered with a silver celtic knot pattern that matched the one on her armor. It would keep her warm on the cool winter night and protect her skin from the rough edges of her knight’s armor.

Once again when she finished it was far into the evening and she flopped onto her bed with a sigh. Her mind wandered lazily for a few minutes until suddenly the burn around her neck ignited and she choked breathlessly as it tightened.

When it finally loosened its grip she lurched towards the window. There was no point in checking the mirror this time. She dropped gracefully to the ground and sprinted across the village, dodging from shadow to shadow when the occasionally night owl wandered past.

She made it to the trees and dropped onto all fours, breathing carefully and waiting for the pain. Sure enough her back cracked and she collapsed onto the ground. The change was faster this time and if she really thought about it hurt a little less.

Her new form reared back onto its hind legs and she let out a pained howl to make up for the inability to scream during the change. She shook out her coat and loped off through the trees. There was no particular path she followed but her feet carried her towards the clearing she’d found Hope.

Just through the trees she stopped. Her ears twitched as they caught the rough scratching coming from ahead of her. It would stop occasionally and the flutter of parchment followed before it started up again. She proceeded quietly until her head poked out from between the trees into the open area.

There at the base of the tree she’d been pressed against the night before was Hope. She was no longer terrified, in fact she seemed quite at ease sketching away in her book with a small lantern hanging from a branch above her head.

Feralan stepped into the moonlight and made her best attempt at a human throat clearing. It came out more like a small bark but when Hope look up she smiled and let out a small laugh as if she understood.

“Hello. I hope you don’t mind I’m back. I ah . . . needed some quiet time away from . . .well . . .” She shook her head and chewed on her lip. “You probably don’t care. Would you like to sit?” Hope nodded her head to the open spot in front of her and Feralan moved to sit. Her back legs splayed out in front of her and she planted her front paws on the ground between her thighs.

The young woman seemed to find her sitting position amusing and giggled softly, turning to a fresh page in her sketch pad. The wolf wiggled her clawed toes in response and grinned widely.

“Do you live in the forest?” Hope asked as she sketched away with her pencil. Every so often she’d glance up at meet Feralan’s eyes before returning to her drawing.

The wolf made a non-committal noise in response, her voluminous tail wrapping around her waist.

“No? Hmm. I like in Stagshelm. You probably know of it. It’s a nice place to live . . .if you’re a settler.” She grimaced and the wolf whined in response.

“So you do know of it? I live with my aunt. She’s a traveler. She ah . . . wants what she thinks is best for me. Not what I really want though,” her head shook. “I want to be an artist . . . and not someone’s house wife.” Her lip curled in disdain at the statement and Feralan’s ears quivered nervously. “She thinks art is a waste of my time. So I sometimes sneak out here in the afternoons and work but last night I got lost and I thought I was dead for sure. There was this girl a month or so ago who got lost and didn’t come back til a week later. Gods know what happened while she was out there.”

The wolf snorted and thumped her tail against the ground. This elicited a confused look from the blonde to which Feralan blinked innocently and tilted her head as she waited for her to continue speaking.

“Anyway . . . I’m not interested in any of her “suitable young men” or any men for that matter.” Her audience stiffened in surprise and her coat puffed up. Luckily she seemed engrossed in her drawing and hadn’t looked up recently. There was silence except for the pencil scratches for a long while when suddenly she spoke again.

“Would you like to be my friend?” A pretty blush blossomed on her cheeks as she ducked her head. “I don’t have many friends. Just Sara really. And since you don’t seem to want to make a meal of me I was wondering if you’d like to . . .”

Her canine jaws wouldn’t allow her to reply in the affirmative and Hope seemed to show no sign of making eye contact again so Feralan slowly crept forward, her head outstretched. She pressed her cold nose against the back of the artist’s hand and jerked backwards a few inches when she jumped.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” She raised her hand to the wolf, fingertips twitching as she waited. Her new friend brought her muzzle closer to the offered hand and pressed it against her palm, the short fur there tickling against her soft skin. “So that’s a yes?” There was a slight nod against her hand and she smiled.

The rest of the evening was spent with Feralan craning her neck over the top of the sketch pad to watch Hope draw and occasionally talk about this or that. Much to the wolf’s delight the artist had begun sketching a drawing of her in her former sitting position. The moon slid across the sky and just as it ducked behind the mountains Feralan nudged Hope’s shoulder with her nose.

“It is time to go home I think. Would you guide me home again?” She nodded and nudged the exhausted blonde to her feet. This time she padded silently behind her, nose pressed gently between her shoulder blades to guide her. When they reached the tree line Feralan rose onto her back legs and bowed her head.

“Good night,” Hope smiled in reply and waved shyly before making her way back into the village. Once again the wolf watched her until she disappeared before she curled up under the fall tree.

----------------------------------------------------
This became their routine. During the day Feralan would work on her costume and at least three times a week she’d change and go meet Hope in the forest. She’d often regale the wolf with stories of her day and draw sketches of her furry friend as she spoke. These meetings had been going on for about two and a half weeks now. The Lunar Festival was four days away and as the days went on Hope continued to excitedly update her on how wonderfully her costume was coming together.
For some odd reason she never actually described the costume, despite how interested Feralan’s face became when she spoke of it. One such night the pair were curled up against the base of their tree. It was getting colder and the wolf had taken to curling up next to the young woman, her head resting on her shoulder. The great amount of heat her large body radiated kept her human friend comfortably warm and her free hand had been gently stroking the wolf’s cheek as she drew.

“The blacksmith did a wonderful job on the piece I asked. It’s exactly how I imagined it. I met his daughter. She seems nice.” The wolf’s ears perked up visibly and she made a small intrigued sound. “Although a bit . . . I don’t know . . . confusing.” Hope finished speaking and went back to sketching out a portrait of Feralan’s face. She was currently feathering out light pencil strokes for the fur on her cheeks.

From their left came the snapping of a small twig. Hope didn’t catch it but Feralan had always been vigilant about listening to the sounds of the forest. During her runs she’d come across many unusual and potentially dangerous creatures. They always avoided her but she wasn’t so sure they wouldn’t be tempted by the human at her side. Her ear twitched in the direction of the sound and she held her breath.

There it was again. Another sound, this time from behind her. It was the quiet crunch of a foot coming down on dry pine needles. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest and the fur along her back bristled. She looked over at Hope who continued to sketch and held back a nervous whine.

Something flashed across her peripheral and she swung her head in it’s direction. A glimpse of something large and sandy flickered through the woods. A deep growl emanated from the wolf’s chest and she gently extricated herself from her companion’s side.

Hope opened her mouth to speak but the wolf shook her head quickly and cast her a desperate look. The warning quieted her instantly and she held her sketch book protectively against her chest.

Feralan stepped forward and inhaled deeply, her head swinging back and forth to catch sight of whatever happened to be circling them. She’d caught this scent before, often around the massacred carcass of a deer or the dark recesses of a cave. The paw prints she’d inspected were similar to hers but lacked the pin-prick indentations of claws.

Just to her right there was a russeling from the bushes and out stepped a large tawny cat. Its large fangs peeked ominously from its open maw and despite its size it moved with a deadly grace. Its eyes were fixed on the blonde behind her and the wolf growled threateningly.

The feline cast its yellow gaze in her direction and let out an angry snarl. In reply Feralan rose onto her hide legs and bared her teeth. This stance towered over the cat, leaving it cowering somewhere around the height of her waist.

“Wolf!” Hope cried out sharply and the beast swiveled her head in the direction she was staring. Another cat, this one slightly smaller but no less imposing stalked out of the trees. Feralan growled louder, her lip curling back to reveal a deadly set of teeth.

All three beasts stood still and time ticked on painfully slowly. From behind Hope there was an enraged screech and a third cat leapt out of this trees.  This one seemed to lack the patience of it’s fellows and was bounding rapidly towards the blonde frozen at the base of the tree.

Feralan roared in a mixture of fear and anger and leaped forward. Her arm swung out and caught the feline mid-air. With another angry roar, this one loud enough to shake the trees around her she flung the cat towards the woods. Its back stuck a tree with a sickening crack and it landed in a crumpled heap on the forest floor.

Seeing their comrade in danger the other two attackers leap on the wolf. She howled in pain as their curved claws dug into her skin. Feralan cast a glance at Hope before she dropped onto her back in the middle of the clearing, trying to shake off the enraged felines.

The one she’d crushed under her back wriggled away and circled the pair still wrestling for dominance on the ground. Feralan came out on top, her massive forepaw pinning her prey to the ground by the throat. She snarled in its face and pressed harder.

The second cat lashed out with a snarl, catching the wolf across the muzzle. It’s claws slashed across the sensitive skin of her face and Feralan let out a pained roar as she was thrown onto her side. Her paws came up to cover the profusely bleeding gashes across the top of her muzzle and the cats moved in closer.

The first leapt on top of her and in a desperate move, Feralan caught it by the throat in her jaws. Blood threatened to blind her but she locked her jaw on the thick skin in her mouth. She put every ounce of strength in her mighty jaws into crushing the dying cat’s neck and her head shook wildly back and fourth until the cat went limp. The now dead feline dropped from her mouth and she sagged visibly.

She was so drained from the fight she missed the last cat tensing to pounce. When her head lifted to meet it she was suddenly blinded. Her paws came up to cover her face once again and then she heard an angry yell.

“You leave my wolf alone!!” Feralan dropped her paws just in time to see a large fiery tree branch come down on the last cat’s spine. It shrieked in pain and writhed away. For a moment it considered returning to fight but as it cast its gaze around to its fallen brothers then at the fierce young woman in front of the wolf it changed its mind. It disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Feralan dragged herself to her feet. She was still bleeding profusely from her face and there was a large laceration across her chest and right bicep. Monster . . . I’m a monster . . . She whined broken-heartedly and limped backwards. Hope could have gotten hurt because she was out here. Now she’s watched me slaughter these beasts. She’s probably terrified of me . . . The wolf set her gaze on the trees and began to limp off.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Hope cried out and took a step towards her friend. The wolf hunched her shoulders and struggled on. “Come back! Please!? I said come back!” Her final phrase was spoken with an air of command Feralan had never heard from the soft spoken young women. She froze for a moment and looked back. “Please come back . . .” the blonde whispered sadly and watched her.

Feralan’s heart broke and she stumbled back to her friend, collapsing onto her side at her feet. Hope dropped to her knees and stroked the soft fur between her ears. “You poor thing . . . Let me help. Go sit by the tree.”

The wolf did as she was told and sat with her back pressed against the rough bark. Hope followed her and began to tear strips from her long skirt. “I may hate skirts but this one will come in handy this time.” She moved forward and knelt, taking a long strip to wrap it around the wolf’s bicep.

The pressure stung and the wolf let out a petulant whine. “Stop that.” She went silent and allowed Hope to tie off her arm. Next she worked on wrapping the wolf’s chest. It was so broad she used most of the strips she’d torn to finish it but it would do until she could come back with proper bandages.

She tore one last piece from her dress and cupped the wolf’s chin in her hand. “C’mere. lemme look at you.” Her tone was gentle and the wolf leaned in closer. Hope dabbed softly at the cuts across the bridge of the wolf’s nose. She winced as the soft fabric stung the wounds but stayed as still as possible.

“Well the bleeding’s stopped . . . and I can’t bandage your face. So that will have to do.” Hope frowned slightly and stroked the wolf’s chin. “You silly beast . . . trying to take on those monsters . .. What were you thinking?!” Her voice rose as she spoke. “I mean you could have been hurt! You were hurt! What if you’d been killed!?” She was yelling now and the wolf’s ears pressed back against her skull.

Feralan’s eyes stared at the ground. There was a soft sniff and she jerked her gaze up to the blonde’s face. She was crying. No no no! No cry!! The wolf whined fearfully and shook. What do I do what do I do?! She did the first thing that came to mind, she reached out and brought the sobbing girl to her chest.

Hope was careful of the wolf’s wounded chest as she wrapped her arms around her neck. Her face pressed into the soft fur at her throat as she continued to cry. The wolf whimpered in confusion and rested her chin on the top of the crying girl’s head. Why was she so mad? Why is she crying? What did I do? Feralan felt as if she’d done something wrong but she had no idea what it could be. They sat like that for an hour or so, long after the blonde’s tears had subsided.

The moon had dropped behind the mountains and she knew it was time for Hope to go home. Her friend had been breathing evenly for a while now and as the wolf moved to help her stand she simply tightened her grip around her neck and whimpered softly. Feralan chuffed softly but there was no response.

Sleeping? Yes, she had fallen asleep. The stress of the evening had drained the young woman and the wolf didn’t have the heart to wake her up. She cradled the girl in her arms and stood as carefully as possible. The wound in her bicep throbbed painfully but she ignored it.  

Feralan made the long trek back to the village with Hope held comfortably against her chest. When they reached the tree line she stopped and glanced around. It seemed there was no one to see her. She loped quickly through the open space and stalked quietly down the empty street. She’d watched Hope walk home every night they’d been together and the journey was a familiar one now. They stopped in front at the doorstep of her house and she gently roused the girl by pressing her nose to her cheek.

Hope blearily opened her eyes and glanced around then up at the wolf. “Thank you,” she whispered tiredly and Feralan set her back on her feet. Before she opened the door she looked up and the wolf her knelt slightly to meet her gaze. The blonde darted forward and pressed a quick kiss to the end of her muzzle before she slipped in to the house.

Feralan blinked in surprise and touched her muzzle. She felt dazed but her overwhelming exhaustion won out and she made her way home. She scrambled up through her window and curled up on her bed. It was much too small for her in this form but at this point she didn’t care. Within moments she was asleep.

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She awoke the next morning and groaned in pain. Her arm ached and her chest burned but most of all her face stung. Her wounds needed to be redressed as she’d bled through them during the night. She crept down the stairs as quietly as possible and peeked into the kitchen.
It was empty. She stepped through the doorway and caught sight of the note on the table. It read:
“Feralan, we’re spending the day at the market selling a few things your father has made. Don’t make too much of a mess. We’ll be back in the afternoon. Love, mother and father.”
She let out a sigh of relief and headed into the washroom. In the cabinet she found new bandages and a cream to help cuts heal faster. She sat on the edge of the bath tub and stripped off the bandage around her chest. Much to her surprise the large gash had already scabbed over. She poked at it experimentally and sighed in relief at the lack of pain. The same could be said about the cut on her shoulder and once she’d smeared the cream on the wounds and re-wrapped them she stood in front of the mirror to inspect her face.
There were four deep cuts across the bridge of her nose, two of which were healing slower than the others. At least they had been deep last night. Now they’d scabbed over and the flesh around them was bright pink, a sign the skin was healing. When the cream has been carefully smeared over them she returned to her room and laid down on her bed. The young woman ached all over and she was still exhausted. Her eyes drifted shut and she laid there, replaying the events from last night. She was slightly terrified by how deadly she had been but at least she’d kept Hope safe.
In fact, Hope has saved her. If she hadn’t scared off the last cat who knows what would have happened. The wolf-girl blushed heavily and touched the tips of her fingers to her lips. She’d kissed her . . . after all that had happened. The events from the night before swirled around her head until her face began to ache again. She curled up on her side and yawned, it was hard to stay awake all day after spending most of the night out in the woods. Especially after what happened. She closed her eyes and nuzzled her way under her blankets just before she dozed off.
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She awoke the next day and stumbled over to her mirror. The wounds on her face were almost completely healed. Two had completely disappeared and the deeper two had healed into thing scars across the bridge of her nose. When she pulled her shirt collar aside and inspected her chest wound she’d found it had also healed leaving a thin scar across her heart. Her bicep was the same.
This must be another effect of the curse. No human would heal this quickly. In fact she should still be bed-ridden. She experimentally stretched and found her smooth mobility had returned. With a smile she shook her head and made her way into the kitchen.
“Good morning, luvie. Were you sick yesterday? You slept awfully long.” Her mother was at the fire, heating sugar water in a large pot.
“Um . .. yes . . .I had a headache .  . .” Feralan replied haltingly. “All better now though.”
“Ah, good. Your father left chocolate pancakes on the table for you.”
“Ooohhh.” Feralan flopped down into a chair at the table and began stuffing pancakes in her mouth. Her mother quirked an eyebrow in her direction before she went back to work.
“Two days until the Lunar Festival. Is your costume finished?”
Feralan started to speak but her mouth was too full. She pointedly finished chewing and swallowed her huge mouth full. “Mostly. I just need to finish attaching the hip plates to the belt and I’ll be finished. It’s gonna be a good one this year.”
“Wonderful! I can’t wait to see it!”
“I’m gonna go finish it up now.” She pushed away from the table and meandered out the back door and into the forge.
“There’s my sleeping beauty,” Her father bellowed as she stepped inside. “I’ve found you your weapons. Truly suitably for a knight.”
His daughter shouted delightedly and made her way over to the table he was standing in front of. There were two weapons laid out on the cloth in front of him. He lifted one and the blade glinted in the light. “A war axe.” The axe had a hooked blade, commonly used for grabbing shields, and a rearing lion carved into the side. “And a short sword.” He lifted the small sword and ran a finger tip along the shimmering blade. Both weapons had dark leather handles. The blacksmith reached under the table and retrieved a thick belt. At the hips he’d attached scaled silver plates suitable for protecting her thighs.
“Now this,” He lifted the axe. “Will hang from your belt.” He slid the axe’s handle into a loop he’d rigged onto the belt. “And this beauty,” the sword, “ will slide into its scabbard on your back.
“Woah . . .”
“Woah, indeed. Even a real knight would envy you.”
“Thank you, dad! I will wear it with pride.” She wrapped her dad in a snug, and extremely rare hug.
“Well you’re welcome. I know you will. Now go see your friends. You’ve been hiding in here all week and I’m tired of you being in the way!” He laughed and pushed her towards the door.
Feralan escaped out the double doors and ran to Gregory’s house. They hadn’t had a chance to meet for more than a week now. The deadline for finishing one’s costume was drawing closer and they’d all been bogged down with last minute finishing touches.
She knocked on the door and waited, hearing the flurry of whines and the clicking of claws. The door swung open and a huge white lab ambled out to meet her, whining excitedly.
“Hello, Taz! How is my handsome young gentlemen!” Feralan ran her hands all over the dog, pulling away with a light dusting of white fur completely covering her front.
“Stop it! You’re making him so excited he’s crying!” Gregory cried and tugged Taz back inside.
Once Taz had been corralled Gregory made his way outside. “What’s happening?”
“Oh nothing, I’m just bored and you young men need to entertain me.”
“Well that is our sole purpose in life.”
“Exactly what I was saying. Let us find my other jesters.”
They wandered off down the road towards the market, discussing as vaguely as possible the designs of their Lunar Festival costumes. Just as they’d guessed when they reached the courtyard they found Barrick and Wesley finishing off fruit pies and sitting on two large crates.
“Aahhhh here they are. Dance for me, monkies! Entertain me!” Feralan barked and waved her hand theatrically. The two young men stared back at her with their best unimpressed expressions. “Or . . . we can go to the swing!” This got their attention and they stood. “The swing it is!” She shouted and lead to way down the road.
The swing was just that. It was a short distance into the woods where some unknown villager had hung a large swing from a branch overhanging a hill. One would climb on, back their way up the hill and then jump. They had made many variations on the technique including more than one rider and jumping at an angle. The majority of which were successful with only the rare tree collision.
They spent the majority of the day challenging each other to increasingly dangerous maneuvers. When the sun began to dip behind the mountains and they’d swung Wesley into the tree for the third consecutive time they decided to call it a day.
They made the rounds, around each other’s houses, greeting each friend’s parents as they dropped them off. As Feralan was the first to gather them she made the last leg of the journey home by herself.
She’d broken into a trot and was cutting sharply around a corner when she collided with something soft. Her arms shot out and caught it for balance, letting out a soft grunt of pain as the scar on her chest seared.
“Oh! I’m sorry I wasn’t paying--”
“I apologize I was just--”
It seemed she’d collided with another harried person. Feralan blinked in surprise as she caught who exactly she’d run in to. “Hope!” Her arms were still around her waist and she realized this with a jolt of fear. She immediately stepped away and blushed. “Ah . . I’m sorry.”
“No no it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention” Hope replied hurriedly and held up her hands.
“Let’s just say it was an accident.” Feralan offered and rubbed a hand across her aching chest.
“Are you all right?” Hope was watching the hand on her chest with a worried expression.
“Oh yes, I’m fine. Just a bruise. I’m okay.”
She received an unconvinced eyebrow raise and ducked her gaze to avoid the inquisitive expression she encountered.
“Well ah . .. sorry again. I’ll be going now.” Feralan stuttered and breezed around her wolf’s friend. When she’d disappeared around the corner she burst into a run and stealthily snuck into her home and up the stairs. She flopped backwards onto her bed and laid there for a long while.
She’d hoped her friend had been on her way to the woods to see her but as the moon slowly rose in the sky the tell-tale signs of her change never came. The wolf girl continued to lay there and the hours dragged on. By midnight her hope had wained and she let herself drift asleep, her hand resting on the scar across her chest.
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The day before the Lunar Festival was hectic to say the least. The villagers scurried through the streets picking up last minute odds and ends for their costumes and putting up streamers and ribbons. The stands in the courtyard were dismantled and stored for the evening and a large hardwood dance floor was assembled around the fountain. At one end of the market place a stage was being built for the musicians and large tables were carried in to hold the massive banquet of food that was being prepared.
The majority of the shopkeepers and artisans in Stagshelm provided some sort of item for the festival. Feralan’s father had built large eight foot tall candelabras that would light the festival as the darkness descended. Feralan assisted in placing them throughout the open areas and carried large boxes of candles to be placed inside them.
They had finished the preparations by the time the sun went down and the villagers all turned in early. Feralan returned home with her father, shoveled dinner into her mouth and headed to bed. Once more she sprawled out on her back and waited, this time running the tips of her fingers along the scars across her nose. The hours dragged along and she chewed nervously on her lip.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she was saying good by to me for good that night. She doesn’t want to see me any more . . . The wolf girl held back a sob and curled up on her side. I wouldn’t blame her though. It’s too dangerous for her to see me, after what happened she’s probably realized that. Tears leaked out of the corner of the young woman’s closed eyes and she bit her lip to choke back a whine. It was all too good to be true. She was silly for thinking otherwise.

She sank into a restless sleep. Angry townsfolk chased her through the streets. They feared her wolf form and therefore abhorred it. Their pitch forks glinted in the firelight and as fast as she ran the forest always stayed just out of reach. As their ropes caught her around the neck she fell and skidded through the dirt. She struggled and snapped at anyone that came near until a break in the crowd caught her attention. There, standing at the back of the angry mob stood Hope. She shook her head in disappointment and turned away. The wolf let out a desperate howl as the crowd descended upon her.

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The next day Feralan woke up tangled in her blankets. Her jaw ached from being tensed in her sleep and she stretched it slowly with a loud crack. She glanced out the window. Judging by the sun it early afternoon.
She leapt out of bed and zipped about her room, grabbing the pieces of her costume. “Time to get dressed.” She pulled her new tunic out of the closet and slipped it on. Her mother had lent her a plain black corset and she struggled to lace it up herself. After much fighting she got it cinched in the back and smiled at her figure in the mirror. She slipped on loose black pants and tugged on her plated boots. They laced snugly in the back and she grinned proudly. Next came the armored belt which she buckled tightly around her waist and bounced slightly to snug into place. Her armor was still in the forge so she slipped down stairs. Her mother would be applying her war paint.
“Motthheeerrr” Feralan whined and peeked into the kitchen.
“In the wash room, sweetie. Get in here so I can put on your makeup.”
“Warpaint, mother”
“Same thing, dear.”
Feralan huffed and slouched into the wash room, sitting herself down on the edge of the tub.
“Okay, here we go. Now stay still!” Her mother worked slowly and carefully, smearing various colors across her face. The entire process took half an hour and when she’d finished her mother stood and cracked her back. “There. You are now a mighty warrior. Where did you get those scratches on your nose?”
“Um . . . A mishap in the forge. Nothing important.” Feralan stammered quickly and her mother pursed her lips before she moved to pack up her paints.
“Go on now. Take a look.” Feralan moved to the mirror and inspected herself. There was a long red streak that trailed over her cheek bones and across her nose. Black had been smeared around her eyes in rough swirls that resembled smoke and downward claw marks slashed down each cheek. “Its perfect!” she exclaimed.
“Of course it is.” Her mother smirked and carried her supplies out.
“Now for my armor.”
“Careful in the forge!”
The young woman rolled her eyes and slipped out the back door. She’d need a new excuse for the scars at some point. She stepped into the forge and found her armor and weapons laid out on the work table for her. Her father was hammering away at a blade on the anvil and looked up when she approach.
“Let’s get you suited up.” He helped her pull on her breast plate and laced it firmly at her back. It fit like a second skin and gleamed dully in the firelight. She slid the pauldron onto her shoulder and her father buckled the back while she hooked the buckle in the front. Lastly, her father pulled out a worn leather scabbard and strapped it across her chest. He lifted the short sword and slid it into the scabbard.
“There ya go. Fit for battle. Or for charming young ladies.” Her winked and handed her her axe which she slid into the loop at her belt.
“Father . . .” She whined in embarrassment and blushed heavily behind her war paint.
“No judgment here, daughter.” Her held up his palms in surrender and turned around to return to his work.
She stomped out of the forge and slipped back into the house. A quick lunch was waiting for her at the table and she passed the time by tossing grapes into the air in an attempt to catch them in her mouth. As the sun just began to sink behind the mountains she stood. She patted herself down and made a quick inventory of her costume.
“Breastplate . . . corset . . .HELM!” She shouted and thundered up the stairs to her room. Her helm was sitting on her desk and she stood in front of her mirror to put it on. It slipped effortlessly onto her head and she adjusted the wings slightly to sit at her temples.
She did truly resemble a warrior. Her head tilted to the side as she inspected herself and she smiled vaguely. The wings on her helm resembled the large pointed ears of her wolf form and she tossed her head playfully. “Time to go.” She mumbled to herself and trotted down stairs. “I’ll see you at the festival!” She called to her parents before she stepped out into the dusky street.
Feralan quickly trotted into the street and strutted along proudly. It wouldn’t do for someone to see the house she’d exited. They’d surely identify her if they did. As she sauntered past other villagers headed to the festival she nodded stoically at them and clinked past with purpose. She turned down onto the main road and was stopped dead by a delighted hoot. “Oh do mine eyes deceive me?! For I believe I see someone I recognize!”
“Barrick,” Feralan mumbled in frustration and spun around. Sure enough there stood her tall friend. His costume this year was a luminous orange coat that brushed around his ankles. He watched her inspect him and graced her with a cocky spin. Attached to the back of his coat was a large tail, not entirely disimilar the one of her wolf form. He wore black fingerless gloves and his mask had large pointed ears and a delicate muzzle.
“Are you a fox?” Feralan scoffed in disbelief.
“Why, yes, my clever friend. For I am most foxy don’t you think?” He fidgeted garishly with one of his whiskers and bowed.
“Well . . .Yes I suppose. Now that you’ve found me lets get moving. Before anyone else hears our identities.” They continued down the street and stopped at the market entrance. A large banner had been strung between the two buildings. It read: Stagshelm Annual Lunar Festival, in large delicate script.
“It is the time of year where I, Barrick, win the hearts of Stagshelm’s young women. Come, my friend! Perhaps you will learn something.” Feralan growled good-naturedly and followed Barrick as he strutted in to the crowd.
All of Stagshelm had turned out for the festival, as they did every year. They weaved their way through a multitude of costumed villagers, no two costumes exactly alike. She was by far the best dressed knight at the festival and many people praised her as she passed them. Barrick nodded slyly at every young woman they passed, occasionally taking their hand to plant a soft kiss upon it before he moved along.
They’d been searching the crowd for Gregory and Wesley for a while now but to no avail. “Perhaps this is the first year they will have stumped us,” Feralan shrugged and took a sip from the mug of cider she’d grabbed along the way. They were sitting on a bench at the edge of the dance floor, scanning the many people for the two young men.
“No! That simply can not be! We will find them if its--Oohh look who we have here?” Feralan followed Barrick’s line of sight and quirked an eyebrow. He was watching a young woman wander shyly through the crowd. She wore a long knee-length coat made of many colorful fabrics that had been sewn together in a swirl pattern. Her long skirt was fashioned in a similar way and swished gracefully against soft fawnskin sandals that tied up around her calves. Her head swiveled in their direction for a moment and they caught sight of the her mask. It was of a typical masquerade shape but one half was painted with brightly colored swirls. The tendrils stretched half-way across the mask until they slowly dissipated into sharp black and white sketches. They reminded Feralan of pencil marks. She turned for a moment as if hearing her name and they were graced with a view of her back. Large delicately design butterfly wings had been attached to the back of the coat and sprouted from her shoulder blades.
“I do believe I know that pretty fairy,” Barrick smirked and stood, handing his goblet to Feralan. “Let us see if she can resist a cunning fox.” He sauntered off and his friend sat the goblets on the vacated crate beside her. This situation seemed all too similar and she worried it’d end the same way the last one had.
Before she could stop him Barrick had caught the fairy in his arms and pulled her to him. “Greetings, little fairy. Might I have this dance?”
“No, do I have to tell you twice? I’m not interested.”
Hope? Feralan really was clueless at times. She inhaled deeply and recognized the familiar smell. She watched at Hope shoved her friend away and stomped off. Barrick glanced over and shrugged, smirking good-naturedly. Once again he took off after her and she growled, slithering through the crowd behind him.
He made to follow her off the dance floor but Feralan’s hand darted out and spun him around. She ducked behind a dancing couple and he blinked in confusion. Her swift feet carried her quickly behind him and she bumped him back into the crowd. When he’d caught himself he’d seemed to have lost both his friend and the girl of interest in the crowd. He craned his head over the crowd in confusion but she ducked once again. With an adjustment of his mask he strutted off back into the crowd and Feralan let out of a sigh of relief.
From behind her came a soft clearing of the throat. Had she been normal she wouldn’t have deciphered it from the rest of the boisterous cacophony but she’d always been able to pick out the voice of this particular human. She spun around and there she stood.
Hope the Fairy. She stared hard at Feralan as if trying to place her. My eyes! She always recognizes them! The wolf girl ducked her head and stared through her lashes, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t recognize her.
This new costume seemed to bring new boldness to the shy young woman and she stepped forward, the crystalline blue of her irises drawing Feralan’s up to meet them.
“Would you dance with me?!” Feralan bellowed and tensed at her own brashness.
Hope seemed caught temporarily off-guard at the question and stood there for a moment as she considered it.
“Yes.”
The war paint did little to hide the flush covering her neck as the knight stepped forward and wrapped one arm around the fairy’s waist. She held up a hand and Hope hesitantly took it.
“I don’t really dance,” Hope mumbled and ducked her head.
“That’s fine. I’ll show you.” Feralan readjusted her loose grip around Hope’s waist and pulled her gently to her. She clicked her tongue softly to the music for a moment to show her the beat then repeated a slow set up instructions. “Okay, now follow me. Slow, slow, quick quick, slow.”
Hope stumbled along with her for a moment before adapting to the rhythm and soon she laughed victoriously, the arm she had wrapped around the knight’s neck tightening slightly. Her eyes which had been focused intently on their feet gazed up to meet her dance partner’s and she gasped.
Feralan cursed silently, she’d been so engrossed in watching Hope learn to dance she hadn’t noticed her eyes. They must have phased to their wolf blue because Hope was staring intently. Her friend leaned in and for a moment Feralan believed she would kiss her. Instead she seemed to be staring at the bridge of her nose.
“You . . . you have . . .” Hope blinked in surprise and released Feralan’s hand. She ran the tips of her fingers along Feralan’s nose and the war paint smeared away. The scars on her nose. She knew. She backed away and bit down on her lip for a moment. “I have to go.”
“No! Please, wait!” Feralan cried desperately. Hope had already disappeared into the throng of people. She followed along behind, but the current of villagers shoved her back. She was quickly losing ground and when she’d finally broken out of the dance floor the blonde was nowhere in sight.
Her head tilted back and she inhaled slowly. The wind carried Hope’s scent from the road to her right and she swiftly followed it. She didn’t dare call out her name as she tracked her for fear of drawing attention to them both but the closer they drew to the edge of the village the more desperate her pace became. When she reached the torch marker at the end of the road she finally caught sight of her. Just a  flash of brightly colored fabric in the dark backdrop of the trees.
She was about twenty yards away from the treeline when Feralan finally grabbed her by the wrist. “Wait!” she shouted. “Please don’t go in there!”
“Why not?” Hope yelled back. “I mean you’re there to protect me, right?”
Feralan froze and released Hope, her hands dropping to her sides. She watched the woman before her pant heavily and she feared she’d begin to hyperventilate soon. “I dunno what you mean.” Feralan stammered quietly.
“Oh no? Pull up your sleeve. Your right arm. There should be a mark there of some kind. If not I’ll apologize. But if there is you tell me what’s going on right now.” Her voice held no room for argument and Feralan reluctantly rolled the sleeve of her tunic up. A long white scar trailed along her bicep.
“I knew it. I knew it! Your eyes! Your nose!  I know those marks! I know you!”  Hope stepped in close and Feralan took a step back. She continued to advance though, shoving her way into the wolf’s personal space and jabbing her pointer finger into her breast plate. “You lied to me! I do know you!”
She glared angrily into Feralan’s eyes and the wolf cowered under her gaze. “What was I to tell you?” Feralan mumbled softly. “How was I to know you wouldn’t be afraid of me or think I was playing some trick on you. How do I know you don’t think I’m a monster?”
“Because you’re my wolf!!” Hope shouted as if Feralan was daft. “I trust you to listen and protect me from what’s in the forest! The least you could do was trust me too.” Her voice cracked and for the first time Feralan noticed the tears gathering in her eyes. “I kissed you . . .” She whispered and turned away. “You couldn’t have shown me who you were?”
“I can’t . . . What would I have said to you? And I can’t when we meet in the forest!”
“What do you mean?”
“Step through the trees and you’ll see.” Feralan pleaded silently with her friend and after a moment’s hesitation Hope walked into the trees.
The effect was immediate. The silver collar burned a painful path around her neck and she stumbled to the side as she gasped for air. Hope jerked into motion, about to move to the young woman’s side but a raised hand stopped her in her tracks.
The suffocation passed and Feralan joined Hope in the dappled shadows of the trees. As she passed her she stripped off her weapons and armor, settling them safely in the hollow at the base of a tree. Her boots joined her armor and her helm was rested on top of the small mound.
Hope watched her silently, removing the mask from her face for the first time and sliding it into the pocket of her coat. Feralan dropped onto all fours and breathed slowly.
Crack!
Her spine popped sharply and she dropped onto stomach. Hope ran forward to help her but Feralan growled a warning and she stopped. Her jaw snapped and she covered her face to hide the monstrous transformation. It took only a minute for the entire change to finish and Hope watched the entire thing. Once the changes had cease the newly turned wolf dragged herself onto her feet and wriggled out of her tunic and pants. She tossed them over by the rest of her costume and turned to face Hope, a glint of grim resignation on her face.
“You . . . changed when I entered the forest?” Hope asked tentatively. She received a nod in return. “So that’s why you were there every night I was.” She closed the distance and rested a hand on the large scar across her chest. “I trust you. You could have died that night. Your eyes. They were always so familiar to me.” The wolf snorted and tilted her head, her large forepaw coming to rest over the hand on her chest. She leaned down and licked Hope’s cheek softly, patting the hand over her heart. For a moment they watched each other and then Feralan sighed softly. She removed her paw from her chest and rested it on the young woman’s shoulder. She turned her around and pointed back the way they’d come, back to town.
“Will you come with me?” Hope asked pleadingly and watched her wolf.
Always. Feralan nodded and nudged her forward. When Hope stepped back into boundaries of Stagshelm the wolf grew dizzy. She dropped to her knees and the choking sensation that came with her change returned. However this time it came in reverse. The grip released and she dropped onto her side, human again. She scrambled into her clothes and hastily reattached her armor.
“Hope!” She barked excitedly as she burst through the trees. There standing under the torch she stood waiting.When she reached her she let out a confused sound. The blonde was staring at her throat with a peculiar expression. “What?”
“Your neck . . . It’s like a collar . . . but . . . a tattoo. Like the ones on your armor.” She raised a hand to the celtic knots on Feralan’s pauldron and then grazed her fingers along her neck softly. She gasped in surprise as the mark disappeared at her touch. Feralan shivered and leaned into Hope’s hand. Their gazes met and the wolf in her purred softly. Yours. “Yours” She repeated softly.
“What?” Hope’s head tilted in confusion.
“I am yours. I will come when you call. You are who my wolf adores so I will listen to you.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then kiss me properly.” And so Feralan did. She returned the kiss that had first been bestowed upon her as a wolf. She returned it with all the devotion she and her wolf could muster. Whether the curse that had been thrust upon her was really curse at all she did not care. Servitude had brought out the beast inside her but the trust of a kind young woman had tamed it. Feralan would always be Hope’s wolf. She would protect and fight to the death for her honor and Hope would always show her the gentle patience that came with a wild heart.
From that day on the pair was inseparable. Most of their interactions continued inside the boundaries of the village but on special occasions Hope would call her to the woods and Feralan would come running. The summons no longer pained her, it called to her joyously like a comforting home and she followed it whole-heartedly. They would sit under the tree where they first met, Hope wrapped in her furry guardian as she worked on her art or simply talked and listened to the forest.
They were not without their hardships. Hope’s family were of course travelers but Feralan’s family supported their relationship happily and helped them in any way possible. Feralan struggled on occasion with her wolf but Hope was always there to calm her, holding her close as nightmares of hunting clouded her mind and gripped her heart.
Their relationship was young and so were they so to say they lived happily ever after was unclear. However, as far they were concerned, they would take it day by day, together. They both would work for their happiness and the road ahead of them would not be an easy. Their adventures alone had come to a close but their journey together had just begun.

Author's Note

I've been told it could use some more . . . . deepening. Any ideas on where I could add more depth??

Reviews

[Cari Lynn Vaughn]

Very interesting.

[.quan.011.]

This is one long story. I suggest you should just make a book. This is a story and I really do think you could make a book out of this.