Connor and the Wolves - 7. Dressing Down

Altanchono waited for them outside the WolfRoom. His eyes lit up as Soren approached, and he latched onto the mage’s hand. Soren looked down at the orange neko, a small chuckle slipping out at Altanchono’s frazzled cheek fur.
“Are you going to run with us?” the neko demanded.
Was he going to run? Soren glanced at Kurt. Werewolves were supposed to run in the middle of the day to let out their energy safely. He’d been planning to skip as usual — third period was the only period he could slip into the cooking class unnoticed.
“Of course I am,” he said, turning down the hall toward the locker room.
He had to slow down to keep Altanchono from falling behind. Kurt followed behind them, using Soren’s body to part the crowd of students ahead of them once again. The mouth-watering scents of bread and meat flooded the hall as they passed the Home Economics room, and it took everything Soren had not to change direction. His stomach roared its displeasure, but it wasn’t the first time he’d denied his hunger.
An elf stood just outside the locker room with a tablet in hand. Warm hair rested in a simple wolf’s tail, setting a copper face on display. He scribbled something on the tablet as a human passed, handing them a key from a small table.
Soren missed Kurt’s presence behind him. He turned, frowning at the neko who stood frozen in the middle of the hall.
“Kurt? Are you okay?”
The calico licked her lips, staring at the elf.
“Yeah… I just… I think I need the WolfRoom.” Altanchono shuddered beside Soren. “I’ll catch up to you-”
“No! No, you don’t need the WolfRoom.” Altanchono slipped out of Soren’s loose grasp, grabbing Kurt instead. “Ma would be mad at all of us if we have to use the WolfRoom.”
“What do you need?” Soren asked.
“Scent masker,” Kurt said.
“Easy enough. Is there a scent you prefer?”
“Orange, or cinnamon… if they have that,” Kurt added dubiously. “But I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.”
“Kurt, the WolfRoom is there for werewolves to use. Why would you get in trouble?” Soren flashed what he hoped was a comforting smile, gently pressing Kurt against the wall so the other students wouldn’t trample her. “You stay here. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”
He felt Altanchono’s eyes on him as he hurried down the hall. Turning the corner, the mage pushed into the WolfRoom a few seconds later.
“Ah, Soren.” Samuel beamed at him, refilling the kettle. “Do you need something?”
“Scent masker, preferably cinnamon.”
“Masker?” The werewolf crossed the room, running his fingers through a set of bottles in the back corner. “That’s unusual for you. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s for a friend.” Soren shrugged. “They’re not very comfortable with the WolfRoom yet.”
“Ah. I’m glad to see you making friends with other wolves.” Samuel handed a small glass bottle to Soren. “One drop under each nostril ought to clear up any lingering scents. Tell your friend they’re free to ask for more if they need it. That’s why it’s here.”
“I’ll let them know.”
Soren hurried back to Kurt, handing her the bottle. He waited as she swiped a line under her nose.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” Kurt capped the bottle, handing it back to Soren. “Here. I don’t know if you have to take it back-”
“No, keep it,” Soren said, pushing the bottle back. “I’ve had my share of loans from the WolfRoom. Samuel doesn’t mind.”
“Can we go yet?” Altanchono demanded. “I just saw John.”
Kurt shoved the younger neko toward the locker room. They joined a short line of students shuffling toward the elf.
“Name?”
“Altanchono.”
The elf tapped his tablet and handed the neko the next key on the table.
“Locker 37. Shift and head into the gym.”
Altanchono pushed through the door, and Soren took his place.
“Name?”
“Soren Eilan.”
The elf glanced at him in surprise.
“A healer?”
Soren shook his head quickly.
“No sir. The gift passed me by.” His voice soured despite himself. He hoped the elf thought disappointment caused it. “I’m just a wolf.”
“Ah. I’m not seeing your name here. Are you a new wolf?”
Soren could feel Kurt’s eyes boring into his back. He hesitated for the slightest moment, then shook his head.
“No sir. I signed up for football this year, but I think running would be better.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll do great. Go ahead and shift-”
“Can I run in this form?”
The elf frowned, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. This is the one time of day you have to be in wolf form, for your safety.” He smiled apologetically. “If you’re uncomfortable shifting in public, we have stalls you can use.”
He pointed Soren into the locker room. The mage trudged inside, glancing at the werewolves in various states of undress.
Altanchono stood by a bank of lockers in the middle of the room, standing on his toes to fit the key into his locker. To his left, a group of nekos were in mid-shift, and an elf sat beside him, fumbling with the key to her own locker.
Kneeling on Altanchono’s right, Soren pulled off his clothes and shoved them into his locker. He hurried toward a stall, ignoring Altanchono’s eyes on his back. Beside him, Kurt ducked into her own stall, still fully dressed.
A mirror sat on the far end of the stall, and Soren bit back a relieved breath. He didn’t know how he would do this without the mirror. This would be an easy morph — how many times had he done it before? Yet a nagging list of what-ifs filled his mind. What if he forgot where a wolf’s lungs were? What if he tangled the nervous system?
What if he used up the last of his energy and dropped dead in the stall?
Shuddering at the thought, Soren dropped to his knees in front of the mirror. His eyes closed, bringing the pictures of wolves that dotted his bedroom to the surface of his mind.
A minute later, the cinnamon wolf stretched in front of the mirror as the chime rang for class to start. He shook out his fur and hit the foot switch to open the stall door.
The locker room was almost empty. A cream wolf sat by the exit to the gym. In the stall next to him, Soren could hear Kurt rolling around, fur rustling against the floor.
“Come on, you three.” A brown neko in a teal tank top shooed Soren toward the exit, knocking on the stall door. “Chime rang.”
A brindle wolf slipped out of the stall, walking past Soren. The cinnamon wolf chased after her, followed by the cream wolf.

Four hundred metres of blue rubber enclosed a freshly mown football pitch. Soren’s paws glided over the spongy surface, leading a pack of forty other wolves. He had lost Kurt and Altanchono seconds after starting the lap around the track. It was easy to fall into his usual pace, eating up the metres. The final straight almost came as a surprise.
“Track runners by the stands, cross-country by the car park!”
Soren trotted to the outside of the track, panting lightly. Where was he supposed to go? Did it really matter?
Around him, wolves parted ways, following the elf’s directions. A few seemed to suffer the same problem as Soren, milling around aimlessly as eyes glanced between the elf and neko coaches.
“Come on everyone, pick a side. You have two days to decide if it’s for you or not, so there’s no risk involved,” the neko called.
The wolves took their time separating. Finally, only Altanchono and Soren stood indecisive. Shrugging, Soren stepped toward the track team. Altanchono followed on his tail, tongue lolling out.
“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Miles,” the elf said as the neko headed toward the cross-country runners. “I coach the wolf track team. If you need me off the track, you can find me in the music room on the lower campus. And if you decide cross-country is more your thing, I know Alice will be delighted to have more runners.” He motioned toward the retreating neko. “I see there are a lot more people here than with Alice. So, I feel the need to warn you that track is not any easier than cross-country. Most of the distances are shorter, but to excel, you have to push yourself hard in either sport.”
Soren glanced around at the gathered wolves, missing Kurt’s brindle colouring. Maybe he’d try cross-country tomorrow. Running through the fields around the school would be a lot more fun than going in circles around the track, especially if he could run with Kurt.
“Today, we’re going to start with some stretches. Some of you may not have had the pleasure of playing sports in your wolf suit yet, so we’re going to take this nice and easy,” Miles continued. “Gansukh, if you’d be so kind as to model for me. Everyone else, make sure you have plenty of space around you.”
A lilac-grey-furred wolf broke off from the group, trotting toward Miles. Soren backed off a bit, giving himself a good metre of space in all directions. He saw Altanchono creep up his right side, and Soren took a step left, keeping his space.
“First up, shoulder stretches. Extend your left foreleg, keeping your paw forward and flat.” Gansukh stretched his leg out, letting his paw hang flat. “Hold the stretch for fifteen seconds, then let your leg fall and pendulum.” Gansukh’s leg fell, swinging back and forth under his chest. “Then we repeat on the other side before moving to the back legs.”
Soren copied the motions, letting out a snort as Altanchono toppled beside him. He nudged the golden wolf until Altanchono scrambled back to his feet with a muted growl.
“And snout stretches,” Miles called. “Touch your nose to your shoulder, hold for ten seconds, touch your elbow, ten seconds, and touch your toes, ten seconds. Then repeat on your other side.”
Minutes later, they were running around the track again, Soren still leading the pack. His stomach grumbled as he ran, but the wolf pushed his hunger from his mind. There would be plenty of time to eat after class.