The Savages

Chapter 3: Shannon

Past

The pain was excruciating. It felt like his whole body was being ripped apart from the inside out, his bones stretching to twice their normal size. He whined and howled, his knees shaking underneath his weight as his mouth burned. His teeth felt like they were falling out, replaced by sharper, longer teeth capable of tearing through the thickest skin of the most dangerous animal.

He was uncertain if he could survive such an unbearable amount of pain. His insides were expanding, catering for the amount of room his bones needed for the transformation. Every single moment grew worse, bringing even more indescribable agony.

He stomped his large, furry paw on the ground, breathing hoarsely. The pain was slowly starting to ebb away, turning into a persistent, dull sting in the pit of his stomach. He felt inexplicably stronger, as if he had the energy of a thousand men. All around him the forest was silent, too silent. Not even the small sound of owls hooting throughout the night could be heard.

A rustling of bushes in the distance caught his immediate attention. He lifted his head, scanning the area with enhanced eyesight. His nose picked up a foreign scent; something reeking of wet dog. Whatever it belonged to, the creature wasn't friendly. It was here as a stern warning, one which could not be misinterpreted or ignored.

Shannon felt an animalistic growl tear through his throat, pinning his ears back. He bared his teeth as a threat to the creature, pulling his lips back from his muzzle. An almost identical growl responded, the animal it belonged to emerging from the shrubbery like a gigantic black shadow, its glowing golden eyes burning intensely like two individual flames.

What are you doing here, outsider? An enraged voice spoke inside his mind.

It took him a moment to realise the wolf was using telepathy as his only way of communication. His long, furry tail dropped behind him, and his eyes were growing impatient the longer Shannon half-stood trying to collect himself.

I'm Ricky Shannon. Who are you, and why are you threatening me?

The wolf stepped closer, the leaf litter softly crinkling beneath his paws. An air of authority surrounded him, as if he were of upmost importance. And then Shannon saw, hidden behind a thick blanket of fog, four other wolves, all of which were silently snarling at him.

This is our land, newbie, and you're trespassing. The voice inside his head turned nasty; threatening, almost.

How was I supposed to know this is your land? Shannon shot back. I came here to transform. It's my first time.

One of the wolves flanking his right, its brown and cream coat speckled with tiny droplets of rain, trotted to his side.

Perhaps we should give this rogue the chance to explain himself, Tyler.

Though not as intense as the black wolf's eyes, hers were full of wonder. The sound of benevolence underlying her stern voice momentarily comforted Shannon long enough to devise a plan of action. He could turn and run away as fast as he could, leaving his fate in the hands of luck, or he could attack the black wolf for dominion over his small pack. Although he had no clue how to be Alpha of a pack, he clung to the small amount of confidence he had in his abilities. Caspian told him of how much power he could exude being a werewolf, but if only he knew how to. It was his first day of being what he truly was, after suffering through the week as a human learning about the world around him while his instincts told him to go out into the wilderness; to feel the grass between his toes, the wind whipping through his fur, and to howl at the full moon when it appeared in the starry night sky.