Somewhere in the night the turn comes and the beast inside is released as my guard is down. I roll to the side and fall out of bed as the changes happen. Subconsciously I open the door and pull my body outside, howling in pain. All of my muscles grow and my bones shift out of where my natural body says they should be. My joints adjust as I fall into the dirt, my legs no longer able to hold me entirely upright with my spine bending to something between animal and man. My skull shifts into something almost entirely canine in a matter of moments and the bit of hair I naturally have on my body thickens and more sprouts everywhere. Where hands were there are now thick, padded paws with dark claws and my tailbone grows longer and hairier. Taste, touch, sound, sight, and smell are all immediately heightened up to and past where I recall from previous turns. Where a man once stood there is now an unholy union of man and wolf. I howl at the moon, both to celebrate the power I'm feeling and to rejoice in the intolerable pain having left me.
My nose catches the scent of musty hair, moss, and half-dried urine. It's probably half a mile away, and if I'm right, the closest source of fresh meat. Luckily, I don't sleep clothed while I'm at home, so there are no clothes restricting my movements at the moment. The only distinguishing item is a leather necklace with a jade pendant I'm wearing, now just short of being fitted to my thick wolven neck. Staying on all fours for the best chance at getting to full speed, I charge across the banks of the lake to the right and follow its edge. Once I get to where I recall seeing the deer earlier in the night. The closer I get the more I start to smell pheromones that tell me a stag is among them. I pick up the scent on an oak tree a few meters away from the lake's shore. I stop and pick up the particulars of the scent. Sniffing ravenously at first, and then in a few deep whiffs, my nose helps me identify one deer, in particular, I hope to be the stag. Honing my perceptions, my feet take off again and begin the chase that only one side is fully aware of at the moment. My body paces itself while trying to do its best to make up for time and shorten the distance.
After roughly twenty minutes, I crest a small hill and find my prey striding across the tall grass by himself. His antlers are broad and thick, this stag is as elegant and powerful as one might imagine. Slightly separated from the does and fawns of his herd, he stands head and shoulders above the grass and wild grains of the savanna. I slink low and quietly, trying to keep in its blind spot. After a few minutes of slow, quiet approach, he’s less than fifteen meters from me. Just close enough that I might catch him after one hard sprint if he doesn’t sense me. The thought comes too late as I fail to realize I’m upwind of him. He looks toward me and my scent on the wind causes him to run toward the trees, away from me. Giving chase, I follow him and do my best to run him down. I need the hunt and the thrill of the chase more than I realize. My muscles are full of adrenaline, I push myself what I’d normally be capable of and as I get within feet of him, I reach out with a clawed hand and swipe at his back leg. Cutting through the skin and muscle, he falls, his weight falling out from under him. I take the opportunity to claw at him again, across the neck, and finish him off. As his herd flees in fear, I get to work devouring my prey.
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The next morning, I wake with a full belly and a metallic taste in my mouth. The first thing I hear is a pounding on the front door. Clearly someone’s trying to get my attention. I look out the window and see the sun fairly high in the sky, making it later than I expect. The hammering on the door continues and I stride over to it, after grabbing my pants. Trying to get into pants, I stumble a bit; hopping on one leg briefly. I finally make it to the door, not knowing who to expect. I’m stunned to see Vic in his dark greys and reds, a little better dressed than he certainly has been the last few days.
”We need to get you dressed and presentable,” he says, barging in and past me, “apparently we’re not just meeting with Galheros, but representatives from the big three. Where’s your wardrobe?”
Bewildered, I point to the bedroom and close the door behind him.
“What time is it?” I finally think to ask.
”It’s ten o’clock,” he responds, not breaking stride, “we have shit to do. Get your ass awake and dressed.”
Vic grabs a leather coat, a black tunic, and my boots. As he throws them on the bed, I walk to the outdoor shower, and see the distinct markings in the ground where I had thrashed about last night, and a trail of blood I had left after my meal. I strip the pants off and throw them to Vic, who stands at the door. Standing under the shower, I grab the handle and begin pumping water out of the lake to clean myself off with. After being covered I take the bar of soap and wash myself off. It takes a few minutes before I’m feeling fully clean. Vic throws me a towel and allows me to dry myself off. After a couple of minutes, I’m fully clothed and we begin the trek back up the hill to Kaland. At no point during the journey does he ask about what transpired. I’m relieved for now, but expect a barrage of questions much later.