The Otherkin Chronicles ¦ Book 1: Lycan

IV: Digging Holes and Building Things

September 2nd, 1773

As Hooklaw woke up on the morning after the third night of the full moon, he was glad to see Sworfitch laying by his side, her head resting on top of his neck. She had been restless the other day to the point where he asked her to run to Delaware and back if she couldn't stay still, and apparently she decided to do just that, coming back along with Nachthur and his family and some bad news: The word had spread of the attack on Chester and people were out for Hooklaw's head; whether it was decapitated from a four-legged beast or a human on two mattered not. The worst part, however, was that the Elvenkin were trying to track him down, though why Sworfitch did not know.

"So what should I do?" he asked her.

"For now, try to stay hidden. We may have to exclude you from our hunts, if that's what it takes, but Elvenkin are excellent trackers, sometimes even surpassing us. No matter what we do, they can and will still find you."

"So try to be a shrub instead of a pine? For some reason, I feel it's a little too late for that..."

"Just stay hidden for now, okay? The elves might not have hostile intentions for all we know, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious."

As the sunlight slipped through the branches to warm his face as he climbed out of the shelter, he couldn't help but overhear Rothell and Nachthur having a talk, just like the day before. Whatever happened the night before must have upset her, because she sounded fairly angry. Suddenly, her voice quieted, and he sighed with relief as her anger pheromones wore away, replaced with those of love. I'm glad Nachthur handled that; it would have been awkward if I had to step in.

He walked around on all fours, his front paws splayed out with their medium-length digits. Sitting down on his haunches, Hooklaw examined his right paw and was disturbed by what he found before excitement overtook him: the wrist bones had shortened enough and the digits lengthened enough that his dewclaw could serve as a thumb. Which means...I have a hand again. He had never known how grateful he was to have such a body part at the end of his arm until it had been transformed into a paw in the span of 90 minutes, a painful experience in more ways than one. With these hands, I could grab things without resorting to using my mouth. With these hands, I could pull things without using my teeth. With these hands, I...I could erect a cabin without relying on the strength of my jaw.

Elated, he let out a howl of joy, which awoke the pack from their slumber: "Wake up, wifs and wers! We've got hands again, which means it's time to begin working on the cabins!"

"Ye bloody murderous yellow-bellied bastardly wretched bag o' filthy chum! Ye forget 'bout me be not havin' hands because me be stuck like this!" Fangones growled, showing me his paws that were still lacking articulation in the digits.

"Apologies, Omega Fangones. Perhaps you could haul the timber that we'll be using?"

"Haulin'?! Is that all me be good fer now? Why must ye be so hairsh on me dignity?!"

"Whoar, what in Saint Barbara's name is goin' on over here?"

The pack, having gathered, turned in the direction of the intruder. A short, portly wolf walking bipedal and wearing a chain metal skirt and a cap designed to fit over his head be he in wolf or human form - if he ever had been human - came hobbling in, muttering curses under his through what appeared to be...a beard? What kind of werewolf was this supposed to be? And what's with that armor?

"What are you lycanthropes starin' at? Never seen a dwarf that had been bitten before?" he grunted. Running over to Fangones, he slapped him, adding, "And you! Respect your Alpha and keep your briny mouth in check when there are children in earshot!" Fangones snapped at him, earning himself another slap, this time underneath the jaw, shutting the mouth with a pomp! "So what's this I hear about you building cabins?"

Turning to his fellow Alpha Sworfitch, Hooklaw asked quietly, "Can we trust him?"

Keeping her voice low, she answered, "It's not often a dwarf comes out of Appalachia to engage with the rest of us Otherkin. Something must be happening there; perhaps they need our help as well. Keep your suspicions to yourself: he's offering to do us a favor."

Turning to the dwarf, Hooklaw told him, "It's a long story, Mr....um..."

"Dwarf name is Petraeus, though everyone calls me Pete. As for the Werewolf name I acquired when I got bit by a now-deceased Alpha, whose name I can't remember, though I think it was Fran-something... I digress, I was bit in order to be an ambassador, but I keep my Werewolf name secret except amongst my fellow dwarven ambassadors. It's backward if you ask me, being able to share your name of your Kin of birth, but not of the Kin you had been adopted into with the latter Kin. Again, I digress - just call me Pete. And no Mr.'s please - it makes it obvious you've been recently turned. Isn't that right, Hooklaw?"

"The Lycancullers have threatened to attack us on the new moon, Pete, when we are at our weakest. My line of thinking says that if we manage to build some cabins in the brief time we have, they'll think twice about attacking and show us some respect."

"Hrmmm..." Hooklaw noticed Pete was in his dwarf form, which was unusual in and of itself, but what caught him off guard was that he didn't appear to be listening; instead, he had drawn some figures into the ground with his finger, and was now making sense of them. Standing up and shifting back to a more wolf-like form, he replied, "I've done the math and logic, Hooklaw, and I don't want to bear bad news, but... I'm not entirely sure your plan will work."

"What do you mean? And how were you completely a dwarf just now?"

"For one, there are certain procedures when building a new settlement out in the wilderness like the one you're proposing. There's permits to obtain, contracts to sign, land claims to acquire... It's very messy. Campsites like what you have already are one thing, but a settlement without a permit is sure to raise some red flags for the Lycancullers. As for shifting back to a dwarf: I have my methods," he said with a wink, adding, "Furthermore, what did you think you were going to do when building the cabin? Stack some logs and hope they don't fall?"

"...yes..."

Pete chuckled humorlessly. "I hate to tell you, but before you start building things, you have to dig holes - in other words, get a foundation made. Otherwise the rains come, the winds blow...and the house falls apart. C'mon, this is Maryland - you should be more likely to know that than in the other colonies. When Jesus gave that parable, He wasn't just talking about a foundation of faith, though that certainly was the hidden meaning behind it."

"I've been starting to question the whole faith aspect of my life ever since I saw Thranthrope in a heavenly setting in the dream where I received my name."

"Thranthrope - that was his name!" Pete started chuckling, "You thought that was heaven? Hah! That was your subconscious, Hooklaw. Don't you understand?"

"What should I be understanding?"

"A werewolf never really dies - they live on in those they've bitten. Thranthrope's spirit lives on in you and, I believe, in more ways than one.If you ever have trouble with something, ask yourself, 'What would Thranthrope do?'"

What would Thranthrope do when faced with this? Hooklaw wondered before it hit him: "So, how does setting up a bunch of tents sound?"

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A/N: Dedicated to ilovestories137 for her votes and comments. You are awesome! :D

So I made a reference to a popular Minecraft animation series in the title - bonus points if you got it!

This chapter took forever to write, mainly due to writer's block. However, I pulled through and got it done! Yay! :D

Fun fact: Saint Barbara is the patron saint of miners. I figured she'd be perfect for a dwarf, though I think the whole miner part of the dwarf lore came about from children mining for coal in the Industrial Revolution. And yes, Petraeus is named after Saint Peter. The name literally means "rock" - again, fitting for a dwarf. (Maryland had a high concentration of Catholics in the colonial era.)

Don't forget to comment and vote!