Shadows Lurking
Nineteen

March 3rd, 2006 – Friday, 6:20pm

The slowly setting sun begins casting shadows of the tall trees surrounding us on to the clearing floor. This is the fifth time this week we’ve been out here in the clearing hidden behind the wall of vines and bushes. The boys refer to it as our ‘den’. The space isn’t much, but it is quiet and secluded. I can relax here knowing no one is around to bother me or that I run the risk of hurting.

I shudder at the thought of being back in that school. For the last month I’ve been dodging girls and their sweet smiles and brushing past me as they giggle to themselves or each other. I saved Katie from gaining a broken bone and now they think I’m this romantic bad boy, according to the boys anyways.

Not happening.

Oliver doesn’t help things either. Anytime I try to push them away- growl at them, threaten them- he scolds me. I want to put him six feet in the ground, but Kerum says I can’t.

“He would be a potential alpha for you,” the old man had said. “It would be wise to follow his lead. Unless you’d prefer to follow Fletcher Finley.”

And that’s all it took to give Oliver the all-clear when it comes to pushing me around. If I have to follow their customs and enter a pack of some degree after graduation, I’d much rather follow Oliver’s lead than Finley’s. The idea of submitting to that jerk is enough to put my own hate for authority to the side.

There has been an upside to all this pestering that the girls offer. Faye hasn’t so much as looked in my direction since the incident. I think the idea of being around all those girls scares her. She seems timid and mousey, more than usual, when they are around. The more distance she keeps from me the less likely I am to hurt her. I still can’t shake the image of her crying as I nearly ripped her throat out in the library. That vision had seemed so real, and I had felt my heart pumping with excitement. I wanted to hurt her, but I didn’t want to hurt her.

Monsters think monster things.

“Do you want some?” James stands just above me, holding out a bag of leftover candies from valentine’s day. “They’re actually not that bad.”

Shrugging, I take a piece from the bag. I rarely ate sweets before coming here. I rarely ate in general. Being here though, I’ve gained over twenty pounds, and I can almost feel a cavity forming in one of my back molars. Everyone here eats three meals a day, and they are no small meals. All those meals and not one person is overweight or out of shape. Even my own gained weight seems to have been made into small muscles.

“Do you think we should start heading back soon?” He asks while popping another candy in his mouth. “It’ll be dark soon.”

I shake my head. “No. Let Corey enjoy being fourteen for just a bit longer, because when we go back, Professor Lorne might kill him for the hexen he left under his chair yesterday.”

I watch as Corey and Mattheo continue wrestling. Corey had only asked for one thing for his birthday; for us to spend it in the clearing together. We’ve been out here for hours, just letting him run free and wrestle with Mattheo as much as his little heart desires. Apparently, the boys like to make sure they respect one another’s birthday wishes.

“It’s tradition!” Corey had exclaimed. Tradition or not, I’m not a fan of birthdays and I hope they respect that.

“Have you decided yet?” James asks as he sits next to me on the cool ground.

I stare at him. “Decided what?”

“Whether or not you’re going to let Nicholas adopt you,” he says casually. “Mattheo was talking about it last weekend when Nick came to visit. Apparently, if he doesn’t get the chance to sign the papers before your fourth year, he loses the chance to adopt. The council will have custody of you until you’re eighteen.”

“What?” I groan as I let myself fall back. My hands rest over my eyes. “So, I either have to live with a man I’ve only known for barely a year or be turned over to live with a group of people who have made it clear they don’t want me.”

“Pretty much.”

“Great.”

Staying with Nicholas over the breaks hadn’t been as bad as I was expecting them to be, but that doesn’t mean I want to live with him permanently. It’d really only be for holidays though, just like it is now. The summer would be the hardest part of the year, but I think I could manage if Mattheo was there. The boy already made it clear that he would stay home if it wasn’t as lonely.

“Hey, Rylan?” James scoots closer towards me. “Could I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” I point out.

He huffs from beside me. “Whatever.” He’s quiet for a moment before asking quietly, “Do you honestly think Lorcan is real?”

I lift my head to watch Corey and Mattheo as they play with one another in wolf form. They chase and nip, acting as though us two don’t even exist. They’re in their own little world right now.

“Yeah,” I sigh out. “Yeah, I do.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because there are too many clues and coincidences for him to not be real.” I glance up at him. “Even your dad thinks he’s real. He mentioned that him and some of the other adults were responsible for his death, but that he could come back.”

James watches the boys before saying, “Kenny said the adults were acting like this before, when you disappeared. They were meeting secretly, whispering dark things, and acting shady. Do you think that’s when they killed him?”

“I never thought about it, but yeah.” I nod my head. “That could’ve been when it happened.”

He sighs now. “As much as I don’t want to believe in something like that, the only way to really get answers is to investigate the town.” He looks unsure for a moment before asking, “Do you think the training sessions with Kerum and Kenny both are helping any?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure. I feel less angry all the time now, so they might be. I haven’t blacked out in a while either.”

James nods. “That’s true. I’m sure you’ll be shifting in no time, and then we can figure out about this Lorcan thing.” He goes quiet again. The only noises are of nature and the boys growling playfully. James then begins drumming his fingers on his knees. “I hate to bring him up, but do you think that’s why your dad took you and ran?” he asks hesitantly. “Do you think he had something to do with killing Lorcan and took you to protect you?”

“No.” The simple word is harsh. My blood runs cold at the thought of Noah doing anything to protect me. “He didn’t have a protective bone in his body.”

“Hey!” Mattheo stands now as a human again and begins waving at us. “Come on, guys! Corey just learned how to trot at normal speed!”

James shakes his head, laughing to himself. He then glances down at me. “Does that ever bother you? Us shifting and playing when you can’t.”

“No.” A lie. “It doesn’t.”

He smiles. “Sure, it doesn’t.” Then he runs off after the other two. Mid run he jumps and shifts into his grey wolf, the fur nothing more than what you’d expect of a grey wolf in the wild. He looks like a picture straight from our biology books in human school.

It does. Seeing them playing now, nipping at one another and enjoying themselves makes me angry. The anger is a different kind than when I had been thinking about Noah just moments ago. It’s almost like-

“I’m jealous,” I whisper. My eyes lock on the boys in front of me, still playing as though I’m not here. They’d been friends for years before I came along. James and Mattheo are even related by blood. They can all three shift, play with each other, and never have to worry about hurting someone because of their monstrous tendencies. They all three have families and they laugh easily. They never hesitate when talking with the other kids or putting them in the infirmary because they’ve lost control.

They’re normal.

April 14th, 2006 – Friday, 4:38am

“Rylan, stop!” Hands grip my upper arms and I replace myself flailing around. “It’s okay! Stop! Calm down!”

Air comes crashing back into my lungs and I cling to the steady arms holding me down. The soft material beneath me is drenched in my own sweat, and feathers slowly drift through the room. Mattheo hovers over my shaking frame, studying my face to make sure I’m okay.

I’m not.

That had been the eighth nightmare in the past two months. Each one has been worse than the last. Images of my dead friends piled at my feet as shadows forced me to murder them one by one. Then she’s there. My mother stands with tears streaming down her pale face before the shadows slit her throat. It’s never been as vivid as this one had been though.

My mind is slowly losing its grip on reality. It won’t be much longer, and I’ll be reenacting my dreams.

“I killed her myself this time.” I gulp in as much air as I can into my burning lungs. “I killed my mom.”

“You didn’t,” Mattheo says quietly. He begins brushing long bangs from my face. “You didn’t kill her, Rylan.” He stares at me, but there are no words I can reply with. “Come on-” Mattheo pushes my covers away and slowly pulls me from bed. “Let’s get you showered, changed, and back in bed.”

“I have class-”

“No,” he cuts me off. “No classes for you today. Just rest and get better.”

I look around to see James and Corey both still snoring away. Mattheo must’ve already been up if my nightmare wasn’t loud enough to wake them up.

Reluctantly, I follow Mattheo down the winding staircase, passing everyone else’s floors and rooms. The common room at the bottom of the dorm is empty and quiet. Everyone must still be in bed. The fireplace crackles, creating a bit of noise to fill the void. Mattheo pushes our dorm door open, and we cross the hall to the boy’s locker room. Inside there are six rows of lockers, ten cubicles for showering, and a few other doors that branch off to private bathrooms for the upperclassmen.

Mattheo wastes no time in setting my change of clothes down on a bench and moving for the showers. The knob squeaks as he adjusts the water’s temperature. This would be my first time in almost the entire year I’ve been here that I’ve showered with someone else in the room. Any other time I’ve only come in here when everyone had gone to bed or were in their morning classes.

Mattheo is silent as he helps me to the showers. His hands hesitate on the hem of my sweater, but I make no move to stop him. Everything feels cold remembering the anger I had in that nightmare- the malice behind each swipe and bite at the lifeless corpses of my friends. I won’t get angry at them anymore. I can’t. They can do whatever they want with me, say whatever they want to me.

As my shirt hits the shower floor, the cool water runs down my back. My pajama bottoms are still on. I’m thankful he opted out of removing them. Just being under the running water is enough. It’s as if I’m washing away the memories, the lingering anger and hate.

“You can cry if you need to,” Mattheo assures me. “You know I’d never judge you.”

“I’m fine.” It’s less than audible, but he catches it.

The water slowly runs cold, but I make no move to turn it off. Something about the ice water reminds me of being back in Noah’s house. I remember the time he had forced me into an ice-cold bath when I had bled too much after being tortured. He had complained because another woman with a clipboard was coming to visit that day, and the evidence of the events that took place the night before was still there.

If I had been able to shift, I could’ve saved myself a long time ago.

“I should’ve done something sooner,” I mumble quietly.

Mattheo’s footsteps draw closer until I can barely hear his tentative voice. “What are talking about?”

“Noah,” I spit his name. “I should’ve protected myself, but I didn’t.”

“You were a kid,” Mattheo argues gently. “Even if you could’ve defended yourself, you wouldn’t have let yourself do it. He was your dad, Rylan.” I turn to face him, and he holds his hands out. “A crappy dad, yes, but he was still your dad. I’m sure there were times when he didn’t hurt you, and those are the memories that stopped you from defending yourself.”

The tears stream down my cheeks, hot compared to the cold water running down my back. “He used to read to me,” I sob out. “He would- He would tuck me in at night and kiss my forehead. I was-” My chest heaves at the images in my mind.

Noah knelt next to the bed and wiped away a falling tear. “Don’t cry, kiddo. It’s just a storm.” His voice was thick with worry and void of any slurring. He hadn’t started drinking yet. “How about a story to help you sleep?”

“He was good sometimes, even after the first time.” The memories floor my mind now, reminding me of just how nice he could be. “He even taught me things. I learned to tie my shoes, to cook spaghetti from scratch, and how to cross the street while looking both ways.”

“He wasn’t the best dad,” Mattheo says while moving closer. He turns the shower off and a towel wraps around my shoulders. His eyes meet mine and he offers a small smile. “But was your dad.”

My shoulders slowly loosen, as if the weight of hating that man has been lifted from them. I spent so much time despising him for what he had done, I never thought about the things I used to hold onto when the disgusting moments took place. Every time he hurt me, touched me, I would disappear to those places- To the dad that loved me.

“Does it make me messed up to miss him? Is something wrong with me?”

Mattheo shakes his head. “No. No, it makes you human, Rylan.” He releases a small chuckle before holding me close. “You don’t miss the things you went through. You miss the things that used to make you feel safe, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

He’s right. There’s nothing wrong with missing the person Noah was before the hurt. He was kind, funny, and doting. I could run to him about boo-boos, and he’d kiss them with no hesitation. If I had a nightmare, he’d run into the room and rock me back to sleep, and he’d never complain about how late it was. Breakfast would be on the table every morning and the scent of coffee would permeate the kitchen.

He was a dad at one point. He was my dad.

Friday, 5:35pm

I pass the doors leading to the great hall. The last thing I need right now is to spend time with my fellow peers. I’m sure someone will be sent after me soon though. Professor Dawes likes to make sure I’m not off sulking in a corner by myself somewhere.

You usually are.

Not all the time. Most of the time I’m being dragged around the school by the boys.

The doors ahead of me, the ones leading to the boy’s secondary bathroom, open. Out of them come Finley, Gratt, and Wilson. All three are smiling widely and laughing to themselves. They’ve no doubt bullied some poor first year in the bathroom. The boys are known for their pranks while Finley and his goons are known for making children cry.

Make them cry in return.

My brain pounds against my skull, as the darkness inside threatens to spill over. I grip the edge of a stone slightly protruding from the wall. I can’t let my dark thoughts win anymore. Hurting people will only make the council come down on me harder. As much as Finley deserves to be beaten to a pulp, now is not the time.

“Look Fletcher, it’s the invalid.” Gratt, you idiot.

“Evans,” Finley sneers.

Giving up on the idea of this being a peaceful interaction, I face him head on. “Fumbles. Henchmen.”

The three of them step closer, Gratt and Wilson keeping their distance though behind Finley. They’re probably still scared of me since the last encounter we all had, and I can’t blame them.

“Fletcher!” Down the hall Faye comes stomping. Her blonde pigtails flap behind her as she storms up to her brother. Her cheeks are rosy and her button nose matches. “What did I say about being mean to my friends?”

“F-Faye, he started it!” Finley exclaims. “I was just coming from the bathroom when he-”

“Save it, Fletcher.” Faye shuts her brother down with a hand in front of his shocked face. “I watched you start on him.” She gives Gratt a pointed look. “You too, Conner.” Her hair flies to the side as she turns from them sharply and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m disappointed in you three. Leave from my sight.”

Slowly, Finley and the other two boys begin backing away from me. Fletcher’s shoulder catches mine and he grumbles out, “Faye won’t always be around to save you.”

After they’ve finally turned a corner and left us alone, Faye loses her pout and suddenly becomes this shy shell of a girl I’m not used to. Her icy eyes are trained on the stone floor and her cheeks are bright with color that the rest of her lacks. There are still no beads in her hair. Since we’ve come back from break, she’s only had beads in them once and that was for Valentine’s Day. The realization bothers me.

“You don’t wear beads anymore,” I say out loud.

She jumps, startled by the sudden voice. “What?”

I point to her braids. “You don’t wear beads in them anymore. Do you not like them now or something?”

“Or something,” she mumbles to herself. Her eyes meet mine for a moment before darting back towards the floor. “I just can’t wear them anymore.”

“Can’t.” I stand closer to her now. Her entire body shakes, but she doesn’t seem scared of me. The confident girl she was just now with Finley and the boys is gone. “Who says you can’t wear them?”

“Momma,” she admits. “Momma says that I can’t wear them if I don’t wear girly colors, but I only like blue.”

“Oh.” It’s all I can say. If her parents tell her she can’t wear them, then there’s not much I can do to help her. They seem like strict people. That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try to stand up for herself though. “Have you thought about wearing them anyways?”

Her eyes meet mine and their impossibly wide. “You mean disobey her?” I nod slowly. She looks away and seems to be thinking to herself. “I never- I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Momma seemed pretty serious this time.”

“But you love your beads,” I insist, not entirely sure why this is any concern of mine. “And if your mom really loves you then she would understand what you want, right?”

It takes a minute, but Faye finally smiles brightly. Her icy eyes are lit up now as she fills with color once again. “You’re right! I’ll go get them right now. Just wait here, okay?”

Before I can refuse to wait on her she’s gone. My shoulders slump and I shuffle to the nearest bench. Cold air flows from the courtyard through the open archway by my face. I easily rest my head against the stone wall below the ledge.

I could just get up and walk away. Faye might be disappointed that I’m gone, but it would mean I could make it past the dinner rush. Up until ten minutes ago I had avoided seeing or talking to any students other than Mattheo since this morning. Letting something like Faye’s pouty face stop me from ending that streak is ridiculous. Yet here I sit.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me. What if she’s poisoned me?

Shaking my head from the ridiculous thoughts, I stand on my feet and lean against the ledge, allowing my hands to escape the school. Black claws extend from my fingertips instantly, gleaming in the remaining beams of setting sunlight. In just two hours I’ll be meeting Kendrick for training and then I’ll be off with boys completing a prank.

The days are so planned out now. Everything is routine.

The only thing that hasn’t fit into the usual routine since before the break is the hushed planning about our trip into town. The boys have decided that the moment I gain enough control to shift we’ll be heading into town. I have no idea how to warn them about the sight of shadows along the tree line of the academy grounds or the ones struggling to slip up underneath the gates.

It’s as if the shadows are traveling from town and fighting their way onto the academy grounds. Gill had said that the shadows hounds wouldn’t step a paw onto them, but I’ve seen them trying their best.

Danger is just around the corner.

“I got them!” Faye shouts from behind me. Her tip taps from her obnoxiously bright yellow high-tops turn me towards her. “I got them!”

She stands just in front of me, panting with a wide smile. Her eyes twinkle with excitement as she shows off her two braids with two blue beads each. There’s no denying how nice the blue looks against the pale blonde hair. The sight of it is almost calming.

“You look more like you now,” I admit. “I like it.”

Her smile falters and her eyes widen. She stares at me with her mouth opening and closing, at a loss for what to say. Slowly, I let my hand reach out and touch a braid, running a finger down the plait. Her breath catches and a noise leaves her throat, almost like a muffled squeal. She smacks her hands over her mouth and pulls away from me with watered eyes.

“Faye?” I step closer, but she only steps farther back. “W-What happened? What’s wrong?” She moves back again with each advance. “I don’t understand-”

“I-I’m sorry!” She shouts. “I- I- I have t-to go now!”

Faye then runs, impossibly fast, and leaves me standing alone in the hallway. Alone and confused. Should I not have done that? I only wanted to know what they felt like. Touching has never been something I’ve been okay with, so assuming other people would be was wrong of me. She no doubt feels disgusted with me now.

Frustrated with my own abrasive actions towards her, I throw my fist out and it connects with the pillar nearby. The stone cracks, splintering in several places. There’s a stinging in my hand, but it’s nothing compared to the burning in my chest.

I messed up with Faye. She was so eager to show me those beads and I went and- What was I thinking? I’ve never stepped out of bounds like that with anyone.

“Rylan?” There’s shuffling, and Amaya is standing next to me, on the other side of the pillar. “What happened?” She gasps as she attempts to sit me down on the bench once more. “Let me see- Oh, gosh. Did you...” Her voice trails off as she stares at the splintered pillar. “Rylan.”

She leaves, but soon returns with a small clear box. On the inside are a bunch of different brews and some bandages. She only shakes her head as she slowly wraps my hand up tightly. There are a few sighs of disappointment, but no words are exchanged as she works.

Amaya’s copper braids stand out against her green jumper. Her braids hold no beads, no ribbons. The idea of touching them doesn’t cause my palms to sweat or my heart to race. Hesitantly, with my good hand, I reach out and touch one. She jumps slightly but doesn’t pull away. She only turns her head to look into my eyes.

“You scared me,” she chuckles out. “I didn’t expect you to do that.”

“You aren’t scared of me though, are you?” I ask her.

Her eyes widen. “What? No- I would never be scared of you, Rylan.” Her eyes soften as does her voice. “What’s going on with you?”

“I scared Faye,” I admit quietly. “I wanted to- I touched her braid and she ran away from me, nearly in tears. I didn’t mean to scare her.”

“Faye’s a sensitive girl, in case you haven’t noticed.” She offers a sarcastic grin. “Just give her some time and she’ll come around. I don’t think you scared her. I think she was just taken by surprise by your action- Like I was just now. None of us are accustomed to the idea of touching you, let alone you touching us. Unless it’s punching Finley, then we expect it.”

She’s right. I’m sure I just startled her. Faye has always been skittish, air-headed, but skittish.

My eyes train on my bandaged hand as Amaya places it on my lap. I’m always being bandaged. My wounds never heal like everyone else’s. Even Corey has healed completely from his fight with the hunters, but my arms are still scarred, littered with white gashes that had to heal naturally.

“I thought all Lycan’s were supposed to heal fast,” I grumble, mainly to myself.

Amaya offers a small, sad smile. “We do. You’ll take longer than most.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t accepted the truth,” she admits. “You’re a Lycan. You’ll heal and you’ll shift like one once you start accepting you are one.”

Frustration eats at me. “I do believe though. It’s not like I’m oblivious to the truth.” I stand and begin pacing. “I’ve seen all of you shift. I’ve used my senses. I believe that Lycan’s are real-”

She places her hands on my scarred arms and turns them over to trace one long white gash. “Believing and knowing are two very different things.” Her eyes are kind, and her smile is warm. “You’ve seen and felt what you needed to believe, but you still don’t see yourself as a Lycan, because you don’t know what it is to be one.” She gently sits me back down. “To be a Lycan is to be free. Some think of it as a curse, turning their backs on their true selves while others embrace it and build their entire lives around it. Those that are in-between, like you are, are stuck in this zone of unshifting.”

“There are others like me?”

“There are,” she agrees. “But they don’t make it long in this world. Eventually, they are outcasted and thrown to the side with humans if they don’t accept their wolf side. Inside each of us is a wolf and that wolf allows us the chance to shift. Unless you accept that wolf as a part of you, a piece of who you are, you’ll never be allowed access to use it.”

I understand now. Accepting that I’m a Lycan would mean accepting that I’m a part of their world. A deep part of me wants to, but the bigger part wants to stay human. There are rules, laws, and customs I’d need to follow if I shifted, and I’m not sure I could.

“How are you better at explaining all of this than our professors?”

Amaya laughs while swatting at my shoulder. “I’m not. They could’ve easily explained it like that too, but you weren’t ready to hear it back then.”

“And you believe I’m ready now?” I quirk my brow at her.

She smiles while shaking her head. “No. I know you are.”

April 23rd, 2006 – Sunday, 8:30am

“You have to envision it, Rylan.” Kerum circles me once more with his hands behind his back. “Picture it in your mind and let imagination become reality.”

We’ve been doing this for three hours. Kerum has become desperate for me to shift. He no longer sugarcoats my inability to shift, no longer encourages me to try again another day. He’s almost rabid at the idea of me shifting sooner rather than later. I’m sure the council is breathing down his neck about me being an invalid and throwing me into a human school system.

“With each breath you take see yourself slowly becoming that inner wolf and...” His voice fades.

Kneeling on the ground on my hands and knees, I push past the burning in my chest and stomach. There’s doubt trickling down my spine at the idea of shifting, but I can’t afford to give in to the doubt.

I can do this.

Mattheo, Corey, James- They shift like it’s no big deal. They get to play with one another while shifted. Even my cousins back at the dinners I attended had been playing as wolves. I kept telling them all it didn’t bother me, but it did. It bothers me so much that they can do those things so easily.

Noah messed up any chance I had to be normal.

Normal- When did I see being a Lycan as normal?

They’re normal.

The memory of seeing the boys playing in the clearing comes to mind. The sight of giant wolves walking around outside of the academy walls no longer shakes me to my core or has me questioning the impossible. Somehow, at some point, this life had become normal to me, and I never realized it.

Shifting wouldn’t mean anything more than being accepted for once. Even if the council has an issue with me after being able to shift, I could still play with the boys, chase my cousins, and feel-

“Free,” I breathe out.

Pain shoots through my legs. Each bone begins twisting and crunching as it repositions itself. The pain is familiar. I’ve been through this already, but this time- It’s almost too much to bear. There’s a voice inside begging me to stop, pleading with me to end the torture, and I almost give in.

Think of the dangerous, murderous things you could do.

My hands shake, half deformed as they fight to become paws. The shifting halts at the dark thought. Could I murder someone after I shift?

You have before.

It was an accident. I wasn’t in control.

And you are now?

Yes. I know I can do this.

The skin on my back feels as though there are needles being pinned in various small sections until my entire backside is warmed by something soft. There’s nothing but silence as the warmth envelops me, holding me close like a friend welcoming you after a long-awaited visit. Despite the lingering pain from the shift, everything feels... Better.

I feel at home.

“You did it,” Kerum breathes out. The old man stands with his hands on his head, eyes wide, and a wide grin on his face. He begins crouching down and then standing again. “You- You’ve shifted, Rylan.” He stops and stares at me for a moment. “Are you still in there?”

I drop to the ground face first. I was attempting to nod, but everything became too heavy, and I toppled over. Two paws lay under my head. Two large and white covered paws. I can see the dark grey fur that the white is disappearing into as it travels up my legs. I want to see what the rest of me looks like, but it’s impossible.

Kerum chuckles from in front of me. He crouches down so we can become eye-to-eye. “It will take a moment or two before you can start throwing your new weight around. Try to stand.”

I do. My legs shake under me, threatening to give out at any miscalculated movement.

“You’re tall,” Kerum praises. “Sturdy and filled out.” He nods as he circles me once. “It would seem your physical wolf is healthy. Now, to test your speed and agility right now would be a mistake.”

There’s a low sounding growl that leaves my throat. I hadn’t meant to do that, but I want to speak, and I can’t.

“Forcing your wolf to do certain things after only shifting without anger for the first time may prove to be fatal.” Kerum hesitantly reaches out until his hand presses flat against my skull. There’s pressure between my ears and the sensation is something I’ve never felt before. “I’ve never seen anything like this. I’m sure it’s due to your rune-made tether, but still... Curious.”

Steadily, I shake my head from side to side, knocking his hand away. I move to the left and nearly lose balance until something catches to the right, swaying me back to the center.

“Alright, it’s time to shift back now.” Kerum smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Well done, Rylan. Well done. Emelia would be proud.”