Moonlight burned her skin, heating it to a fevered pitch. Her blood boiled. The marrow in her bones burned. Heat and pain rose up from her belly, lava from the core of her being to consume her. Her beating heart sped up until it fluttered as fast as hummingbird wings. Her brain shut down as her senses came alive. Her spine coiled. Her mind tripped like it was strung out on psychotropic drugs. She wasn’t aware of anything but pain and fire as her body shifted from one form to another. The change felt like hours. Minutes. Years. Seconds. Just one big tripping, tearing, spinning jumble.
Bone and sinew twisted and turned as she morphed from human to wolf. Most weres shifted from human to wolf. Some- usually the older, stronger lycans- could keep their head through the shifting and could stop the process partway. This resulted in the well known, half man, half wolf form notorious in horror movies. She couldn’t keep her head; pain and heat consumed her.
Pain and fire rolled back like a curtain, leaving her sharp and crisp as a fall day. Her senses were the same. Eyes sharp, able to see in the dark and picking up details humans missed. Same with her sight and hearing. Her vantage point had lowered. Her furry ears swiveled, taking in the sounds of nearby animals. Moonlight was a warm hand caressing her fur.
She panted, lungs aching. She lay belly down in the trampled grass and dirt. She felt like she just got off an intense roller coaster. Exhausted and exuberated at the same time. There was something about shifting that left her feeling truly alive.
She wanted to run, to howl her presence to the world. Sorrow in her heart tinged the rush, the joy of changing. Lucas. She whimpered. She’d hurt him and left him crying. Guilt haunted her, a shadow on her heart. There would be no forgetting. Not this time.
Pru stretched. Her muscles trembled with the aftershocks of shifting. Slowly, she got to all four paws, getting the kinks of her spasming muscles. She looked towards the woods. She doubted her pack would come look for her here. In town, she could pass as a wolfy-looking stray. Lucas was in town. Ghosts of his sobs hung in her ears. The memory of his hurt, sad eyes haunted her heart; a lantern that would not go out. She’d rather risk the brutal anger of her pack.
She headed towards the dark tree line, head and tail low. Her heart was full of Lucas and the wrongs she’d done. She broke into an easy lope, turned sharply, and headed back into town.
Lucas never turned on the booth’s battery powered lantern. He sat in the dark, nestled in the back corner. His pacifier and Fiji lay somewhere on the ground. He’d untied his bib and threw it on the ground. He hugged himself tight.
His head was fuzzy, no longer warm and cozy. The autumn chill pierced him inside and out. His heart hurt. No passersby noticed him huddled and hiding in the dark booth. The streetlights and booth lamps illuminated the street. The lights deepened the shadows. No one looked in them. He felt full of cold shadows.
Rosie still hadn’t come back. She hadn’t even popped by to check on him. The moon was up. Soon, it would be time to go home. Rosie was his ride home. Unless she’d ditched him. Maybe his cruel babysitter was supposed to be his ride. He cringed at the thought.
He’d truly believed he was making a friend. On her end, it was just a Halloween lark. The pain was still fresh, but his tears had dried. His face was a mess.
If Rosie didn’t show, he’d just have to roll over to the fire department booth and ask Mrs. King for a ride. She was their neighbor. Her daughter was one of Rosie’s friends. He was shy around Mrs. King, but comfortable enough to talk to her.
His entire body ached. His feet tingled. He stretched. He wanted out of his wheelchair; wanted to go home and lay on the floor to do some of his therapy stretches. His lower back muscles twisted in tight knots. He still had some feeling, some control of his legs. He could walk, sort of, in physical therapy. With the help of his therapist and a bunch of adaptive equipment, he could stand and move his legs.