As I had predicted, the woods are soon flooded with hunters, all of them searching high and low for the missing Baron brothers.

I confine the Pack to my den, which we expand to fit the sudden space demand, digging out the map-wall. We won't be needing it soon, anyway.

Every night, I send one wolf out to hunt for us, and another wolf to bring back water. I only ever send out two wolves a night. I'm being very cautious. Annoying? Yes. Safer? Also yes.

I allow Dean to stuff the canvas bag full of whatever trinkets he wants to bring along with him. He's thrilled that he won't have to leave his beloved teacup behind. Alarra wraps the delicate china in the ratty blanket for him so that it won't break during the rough trek. In return, Dean caught six foxes on his next hunting shift, which are Alarra's favourite.

Flare untied the rope from the basket and puts it in the canvas bag as well. Once the transformations are over, the water skull will join it.

###

"Darra," Sam says, five days after I had bitten Damon. "It's Damon, I think it's startin',"

I launch to my feet. "Get Wolf out of there, he'll be thrashing around and might hurt him otherwise,"

Sam nods and moves to do as ordered. He drags Wulfric out of the secondary chamber by his shoeless ankle (we had removed their shoes and shirts, to make the transformation easier) who groans and mutters deliriously.

I shush him, not unkindly, before moving to tend to my other brother.

I settle in at the entryway to watch the transformation, endlessly fascinated by the process. I think I've got the stages down by now.

Damon was indeed going into the first stage of the transformation. He was shifting restlessly and scratching at his skin, face twisted in discomfort at the cramps no doubt racking his body. Goosebumps pop up all over his body, apart from his nose, palms, mouth, eyes, the insides of his ears, and the soles of his feet. Those goosebumps are his fur, which will sprout later.

After a while, he enters the second stage of being somewhat lucid while his bones begin to shift, creaking and groaning. And soon, that first loud 'crack!' echoes in the small chamber and he screams, entering the third stage.

The third stage consists of him writhing in pain, shifting between screaming and a wordless shout, where his mouth hangs open while his eyes bug out, filled with pained tears but clouded over. Fur begins to sprout all over his body in tufts, blooming out of the skin like macabre flowers; thin trails of blood dribble down from the holes they create. His bones snap and reform, his organs shifting and growing and changing. A tail begins to form at from tail bone, stretching, growing, and soon becoming a full length, ugly, pink, boney thing. He thrashes and arches and throws himself around. His ribs flare, his jaw dislocates, and I can see his teeth growing and shifting and sharpening while his gums thicken. Some of the teeth merge together, others split in two and some sprout up from his gums, all while the jaws elongate. Saliva dribbled down his chin and his eyes roll to the back of his skull. His hair begins falling out in clumps, and I can see as his new, pointy wolf ears migrate to the top of his flattened skull.

And then, the fourth and final stage. The fur that had begun to sprout rips out of his skin all at once, peeling the old layer of skin off and leaving the fur. Under the fur lays a fresh new layer of skin, much thicker than the old one. His fur is coated in blood and viscous yellow fluid.

He collapses to his side, panting and shaking and whimpering.

I straighten, moving closer to get a good look at the fully-transformed wolf. I lap some of the blood off of him, cleaning his from face to his neck. He'll be able to clean off in the river when he wakes up.

He has charcoal grey fur with lighter grey undertones on his underside. (At least, I'm pretty sure he does, underneath all of the blood) It's a hardly noticeable difference, so much so that I can't be sure that my eyes aren't playing tricks on me in the low-light. It's daytime outside, so what I can see is in vibrant colour, I need very little light to be able to see clearly. Nighttime just looks like a heavily desaturated daytime. That being said, I was underground.

I notice that Damon is about the same size as me, though perhaps a little slimmer. I had always had broader shoulders then Damon. His eyes are the same sea-foam green that they had always been. He'd gotten our mother's eyes, Wulfric and I got her hair.

"Sleep, brother," I say, nosing his blood-soaked ruff.

Damon's bleary eyes drift shut. After a few moments, his breathing evens out.

I sigh and exit the chamber. Sam looks at me expectantly.

"You can take him back inside, it shouldn't be long now,"

Sam nods and sets about dragging Wulfric back into the secondary chamber. I debate having him take Damon out but decide against it. The main chamber was crowded enough as it is.

Even now, Flare and Alarra carve away at the dirt. Dean is curled in a ball napping, but he's going out tonight so that's fine by me.

"We leave the night after Wulfric turns," I tell them.

They nod before returning to their work. We won't be staying here long, and the chamber has been given a considerable amount of space in the last few days, but the alternative is them sitting still and doing nothing, so I let them dig.

###

I crack my eyes open with a groan. I lift my head. I blink as something is shoved in front of me.

"Drink," a voice commands.

I comply, if only because my body demands it of me. I awkwardly lap from the strange off-white bowl, my mouth feeling strange and my movements sluggish.

"When did he wake up?" Asks a low voice from the other side of the room. It's different from the one that had told me to drink.

"Jus' a minute ago. Did you wan' to talk to 'im?"

"Of course," the voice says, its tone indicating that this was the obvious answer. "Give us some privacy?"

"Of course, Alpha," the first voice says before soft steps fade into the distance.

I clumsily turn my head and blink.

A large wolf is sat not far away from me, its tail patiently curled over the top of its paws.

"The hell...?" I murmur, looking around the room. Bits of bone were stuck in the dirt floor, with larger bones pilled up near the walls, which were also dirt. The dirt on the floor was stained rust-red, and the scent of both dry and fresh blood hung heavy in the air.

The wolf nods. "That's a common first response. How do you feel? Any pain?"

"I- no, why would there be... pain..." an echo of world-shattering pain rocks through my mind and I shudder.

"The transformation is an ugly thing," says the wolf. "Fascinating, but ugly,"

"Transformation?" I ask duly.

The wolf looks me pointedly up and down. "Well, I'm not sure what else you would call it,"

I look down at my arms... or, legs, it would seem. Legs with paws at the end.

A quiet sense of horror creeps up my spine, but it's not enough. I should be freaking out. Why am I not freaking out?

"It can be a bit disorientating at first," continued the wolf, as though he hadn't just taken my whole world and flipped it on its axis.

"No shit," I whisper, still staring numbly at my paws. My paws. Mine.

The wolf laughs at that. "Yes, well, you get used to it fairly quickly,"

I blink back up to him. "Who are you?"

The wolf blinked, surprised. "Oh, Damon, it's me: Darra,"

I gape at him before shaking my head, slowly. "No. No, Darra was killed by a--"

"Wolf?" The wolf cuts in, arching a brow. "Not exactly,"

I swallow drily, quite able wanting to believe something so impossible. At the same time, I had paws. "Prove it,"

"Alright," the wolf says before growing silent, contemplating. "You got me a knitting set for my eighth birthday. I had wanted a knife, like most idiot children, but you said that I needed to learn something actually useful. The next Christmas I gave you a hat that I had knit from the gaudiest yarn I could find. You've worn it every winter since,"

I gasp out a breath. "Oh my Lord. Darra," I stand on shaky feet and stumble towards him. I stand in front of him for a moment, wondering how to hug him with my new canine body.

He huffs a laugh and presses his neck against mine, leaning on me heavily. I quickly lean against him as well, so as not to be toppled over by his weight.

"I'd thought you were dead," I say, willing myself not to cry.

"I know," Darra says, because dead or not, he was still the worst.

I laugh anyway, leaning harder against him. "I fucking missed you,"

"I missed you too," Darra says.

"Liar," I accuse.

"You betcha,"

I laugh and ease up on the 'hug' and he follows suit. I back up a few paces. I look him up in down, taking in his new form. His fur was dark grey, not as dark as mine apparently is, but much darker than your average wolf. His eyes, however, are the same shade of chocolate brown they've always been.

"I just- how?" I ask. It'll eat me alive if I don't know.

But Darra shakes his head. "I'll tell you later, after Wolf finishes his transformation,"

"Wolf?" I ask. Darra nods at something behind me and I turn, blinking. "Good lord," I breathe, eyes roving over the prone form of my baby brother.

He was without a shirt or shoes, but he still had his trousers on. Dried blood plasters his pant leg to his right calf.

"What happened to him?" I ask, whipping around to face Darra.

Darra winces. He tilts his head from side to side. "Er... I did,"

I blink, willing that to compute. It doesn't. "What do you mean you did?"

Darra sighs. "In order to start the transformation process, I need to bite someone. So, I bit him. I bit you too, do you remember that?"

I think back. The riverbank, the screaming, the scent of blood in the air, the pain. "That was you?" I ask, not angry, simply surprised.

Darra nods. "It was. Well, me and my pack,"

"Your... pack," I draw out.

"Yes, you'll meet them in a bit, I just need to--" he cuts himself off, his ears perking.

Stolen novel; please report.

"What?"

Darra's eyes dart to me before they move to the prone form of Wolf. "His transformation is starting. I don't think you'll want to be here for this,"

I shake my head firmly. "No. I'll stay,"

"I told you that it's ugly," Darra warns.

I stand taller. "I'll stay," I repeat firmly.

Darra sighs but doesn't argue. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he says. "Come sit over here with me, give him some room,"

I do as instructed, before turning my eyes back to Wolf.

At first, I'm not sure what I'm seeing. Then a loud 'crack!' echoes through the air, and Wolf screams.

"What was that?" I ask, eyeing Wolf worriedly.

"Uh..." Darra eyes Wolf too, examining him. "His femur, it looks like,"

Something is shifting beneath his skin, and he's covered in large, pink goosebumps.

"Talk me through it?" I ask weakly, feeling both horrified and very, very confused.

"He's in what I like to call 'stage three'," Darra says. "This is where it gets ugly, but don't worry, he won't remember it when it's over,"

I'm about to ask what he means by that when Wolf arches off the ground and screams bloody murder. His ribs flare under his skin and shift, growing further apart and thicker. The sound of breaking bones and screaming and agony soon fills the air, adding another layer of horror to go along with the visuals. The scent of fresh blood springs into the air when one of the goosebumps on Wolf's stomach splits open and reveals blood-soaked fur.

"Good lord," I whisper between the screams. Darra hums in agreement.

I'm not sure where to look. Everything is happening all at once, and it's all so horrible.

I decide to focus on his hands, watching as fingers elongate and thicken and the pads form, pink and new and plush. Skin fuses and tightens and stretches and nails pop off of their beds to make room for sharp claws. The end result is a wolf that looks like all of its fur had been shaved off, save for a few odd patches. Then, his skin grows taut and bursts in several arias and then sluices off of his body and falls to the floor.

Wolf falls to the ground, panting, whimpering, almost completely coated in red save for a few patches of thick, yellow liquid that reminds me of what a newborn lamb is covered in before its mother cleans it off.

"I think," I begin, slowly. "That I'm going to be sick,"

Darra huffs a laugh. "Come on, let's get some air,"

I follow him out into a large chamber and then through a tunnel and up into the open air.

I take a few grateful breaths, feeling the acid recede with every lungful.

"Holy fuck," I breathe. I look up at Darra, who stands on a log further up the way. "That's how you're still alive. We thought the wolf had eaten everything but a few scraps of skin and the blood, but,"

Darra nods. "My transformation was slower than most. I had been feeling off all day, but when I got home and into my room, I noticed a patch of fur on my shoulder," he shrugs. "It's all a blur after that. I didn't have much time to recover before I was running for my life,"

"Darra," I breathe. I remember that night, I had been part of that mob.

Darra waves me off with a graceful swish of his tail. "Don't, Damon. I'm fine,"

I nod, swallowing. Then, I look around and furrow my brow. "Why does everything look so desaturated?"

Darra laughs, as though I had just said something funny. "It's nighttime, it'll look normal again when the sun comes up,"

"Ah," I breathe, nodding. Wolves can see well in the dark. I remember that much from school, at least.

"I'll introduce you to the Pack as soon as, Wolf wakes up," Darra says, leaping off of the log and padding up to me. "It's easier to not have to do it twice, ya know?"

I nod. Darra grins and slips back down the large hole in the ground that leads into the... den? Cave? I'm not entirely sure what it is. I follow him in.

***

"He's waking up," Darra says.

"Are you sure?"

Darra huffs. "Yes I'm sure," he says, flicking his ear pointedly.

I roll my eyes but scoot closer to the unconscious wolf anyways. Darra had licked him clean, which I had found disturbing. Darra had informed me that the mental shift from human to wolf took longer than the physical one and that he didn't think it was strange at all. The tongue-bath had revealed Wolf's true fur colour: dove grey, which I find interesting, given Darra and mine's darker fur colour.

Wolf stirs, groaning.

"Hey, kid," I say softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Damon?" Wolf asks blearily. Darra pushes the 'bowl'(skull) of water in front of him

"Drink,"

Wolf does so, his tongue moving sluggishly to clumsily lap at the water. He looks like the picture of exhaustion, I think.

After a few moments, Wolf moves to sit up, opening his eyes. He blinks, his eyes becoming alert.

"What-"

"Don't freak out," I implore him, holding up a paw. "We can explain,"

"Damon?" Wolf asks in a confused whisper.

"Yeah, it's me,"

"What- how-"

"Breathe," Darra reminds him.

Wolf sucks in a quick breath.

"So, we've both been turned into wolves," I say, going for the straightforward approach. "Also, Darra is alive and that's him," I nod at him.

"Hi," Darra says.

"Oh my gosh," Wolf whispers, sitting up shakily and looking over his new, canine body. Then, he whips his head up. "Darra's alive?" He asks in a rush.

"Yes, hello," Darra says.

Wolf narrows his eyes. "How do I know that you're Darra?"

Darra sighs. "Once when you were eight and eleven, I fed your goldfish to the neighbours' cat and then felt bad when you cried so I bought you a new goldfish and you named him 'Guilt Fish'"

Wolf blinks. Then he nods, his suspicious expression melting away. "Yeah, okay. You've convinced me," he says before tackling Darra in a 'hug'. He tries to wrap his arms around him before he seems to realize that he doesn't have any arms.

I roll my eyes fondly. Darra laughs and nips at Wolf's ear as he pulls away. "I'll explain in a minute, okay? Come meet my pack first,"

We follow him into the larger chamber, where four other wolves were waiting patiently for us to join them.

"Right," Darra says, sitting down a few feet away from the group. The other wolves fall into silence and look at us with interest.

Wolf and I sit down too, and I scan the other wolves, Darra's so-called 'pack'. Darra hadn't really spoken about them during any conversation we'd had in the last few hours, hadn't mentioned any names. Darra had had few friends back home, (he was always a bit of a lone wolf, pun intended,) so I'm curious as to who they are, what they're like.

Darra gestures with a paw to one of the wolves. "That's Flare, he's the pack Beta and the brains of or operation,"

Flare gives a mock bow, although he seems genuinely pleased with the praise. "A pleasure,"

"Likewise," I reply. Wolf nods at him with what looks like the wolf version of an awkward smile.

"The grey one is Dean, who is our defacto scout slash thief,"

Dean nods at us. "Nice to meet you,"

"You too," I say. Wolf hums in agreement, shifting on his feet.

"The scruffy one is Sam, who's very good at being versatile,"

Sam huffs. "I chose to take tha' as a compliment," he says before shooting us a grin. "It's nice to meet you boys,"

"And you," I say before frowning. "I feel like I'm repeating myself. Does it sound like I'm repeating myself?"

"You're fine," Darra says before moving on. "And finally, the white one is Alarra, she's our best hunter,"

Alarra hums and seems to preen at the praise. "It's nice to meet the two of you," she says.

"It's nice to meet you too," I say. Wolf murmurs his agreement, shuffling closer to me.

Darra stands and begins to pace. "Fantastic! Now that we're all introduced, let's get to work,"

The four wolves all move, slipping out of the room through the tunnels on either side of it. Getting to work, I assume.

"Work? Did you need me to do something?" I ask.

Darra shakes his head. "No, no, you two need as much rest as you can get. Someone will bring you food and water. We all have a lot of walking in out near future,"

Wolf and I share a bemused look as Darra slips away without another word.

"Well, that was vague," I remark.

Wolf shrugs. "I'm sure he'll explain eventually,"