Tied By The Moon | Editing

Chapter 8

Being a werewolf isn't just about howling at the moon at night and walking on two feet at day, it's not about finding your mate and living with them forever, and it's not about belonging in a pack and loving that you do.

It's the little things; like running through the forest and singing your heart to the moon with a howl.

"This is great!" Anya shouted, her bare feet slapping against the ground as we ran.

I laughed at her, dodging trees and shrubs as we ran deeper into the forest, our antics being carried away with the distance.

"Can you shift while running?" I shouted to her, launching myself onto a rock and over a stump. 

She nodded, bracing herself for the shift as she prepared. I fell behind her, the wind in my hair as she sprung up, her two feet leaving the ground for a second and returning as four paws.

Her wolf was - as expected - the same black colour as her hair, with a white underbelly that brought it to life. She was an expected size, immensely larger than a normal wolf, but small so she was branded unranked in her pack.

She overtook me in a flash, her speed increasing as she was in wolf form, and barked at me to shift.

I took the hint and shifted mid-air, my feet and hands changing to harbour my fur and my paws. Naturally, my wolf had two colours, both representing my ethnicity and hair colour.

The underside of my wolf was black, as was my snout and the most part of my head, but the rest of me was a dark brown colour, the same as my skin and hair, and trailed to the tip of my tail. My wolf stood a few inches above hers, showing that my family was a ranked one in my old pack - but that didn't matter to me anymore.

I led the way as her superior - even as friends - and she followed with a diligent mind, giving little barks of happiness.

The forest seemed more alive in wolf form, I could smell the soil and air around us, see the sky and ground shifting between my vision, and feel the dirt and earth beneath my paws.

This pack's territory is still new to my wolf and I, the smells aren't the same. I lowered my head to the ground, my nose grazing over it as I take in the different scents, the smells, what's in store for me here.

Anya caught my attention, her barking turning my head. She was dancing around, her paws like springs as she bounded and played. Her tail was held high, wagging back and forth as she bowed and placed the front of her body to the ground, holding her rear high.

She wanted to play.

I copied her behaviour, nipping at her front paws in a friendly way, then springing up and running away, daring her to chase me.

She let out a promising howl, her body in full sprint as she followed me deeper into the forest. She jumped onto my back whilst I was distracted by a rabbit, taming me to the floor and winning our game of cat and mouse.

Barking with delight, I lunged at her, my paw striking her muzzle with a soft blow, surprising her. She grinned at me, a wolfish grin, and got the message.

I wanted to fight.

Exposing her canines to me, she growled, an amused smile hiding behind it. I followed suit, my claws digging into the soft undergrowth as I swiped at her, my hackles raised in mock aggression.

My wolf tested her, lunging forward and pulling back so she flinched, growling at me to stop.

She played her own hand, swiping at the dirt so it pattered onto my face, making me back up and shake it off.