Failine - 4. Chapter 4

Standing in the middle of the room, naked, a circle of strangers around me, all of this was even weirder than I had imagined. Cupping one’s private parts just wasn’t an overused movie cliche: I was doing so and nothing would make me take my hands away. I couldn’t even tell myself that the people weren’t staring at me because that was why they were here, whispering things to each other I was glad I couldn’t understand. Imagining them without clothes, another cliched movie thing, didn’t work either. The desired effect just failed to appear when you were nude yourself. That the idea of seeing most of them naked filled me with horror also contributed to the problem. I looked at Dillon and wondered what he thought about my skinny, hairless, disproportionate body. He gave me a thumbs up that made me smile again. I hadn’t smiled that much in the entire last month. How much I wanted to explore this newly found happiness, there were more urgent problems to deal with, like my dad standing before me. He raised his arms, and silence fell over the room, condensing like a viscous liquid and drowning the cabin. Though the imagery was all in my head, I found it difficult to breathe.

“This is a glorious event for our pack because two young men will join us tonight: Elias Knightington and Dillon Goddard.”

At least my dad had the decency to include Dillon into his speech.

“Tonight they will meet the wolf.”

“The wolf,” the pack repeated.

“Sharing their first transformation with us forges the bond.”

“The bond.”

“Skin-clad you stepped before us, Elias Knightington, and so I ask you: do you wish to join this pack of your own will? Do you submit to its rules? Do you vow loyalty?”

“My answer is the threefold yes,” I said. More like a triple lie, but it was too late to back down. Thinking about it, there never had been a time when it hadn’t been too late.

“Does anyone object to his request?”

No one would dare to, regardless of how much I was hoping for anyone to do what I lacked the courage for.

“Proof to this pack that you are worthy, and the pack will welcome you as one of its own. Your test will be the Agony.”

“The Agony.”

“Do you accept the pack’s challenge?”

“I obey the will of the pack.” I certainly didn’t lack obedience.

“Then, from its humblest member, receive the Catalyst.”

Craig Brauner. I had looked up his data in the electronic contact list whose password I wasn’t supposed to know, so perhaps there was hope for me in the rebellion department. Craig was 29, too old for us to have met in the cub sitting group, and he had joined the pack last. Its humblest member, for sure. He was stocky and short, unshaved, and smelled of sweat and beer. Following pack tradition, he would be as close to me as kin. You actually couldn’t choose your relatives, but what made up for Craig was the fact that the same tradition brought me closer to Dillon. He would receive the Catalyst from me. Did he also think of me as a worthy addition to his family?

Craig extended his hand with a white plastic cup in it. The pack insisted on the stilted initiation phrases, but didn’t care about details like this. Though I hadn’t expected a magical chalice, a little more mystery would have been welcome. The cup in my hand was only half-filled with a greenish-brown liquid of a consistency somewhere between water and cough syrup. I hadn’t been aware that things could actually smell bitter, but this stuff did. I looked at my dad, and meanwhile, I detested that demented smile. Some initiates suffered a fatal allergic shock from the Catalyst. In those rare cases, the human half was deemed too weak, and death was seen as a mercy for the pack as well as for that person. If I died, Dad would at least stop smiling. That passed as mercy for me. The only person that would truly miss me was Jamie. And Dillon perhaps.

Funny enough, the knots in my stomach were gone, like the ants. My breathing had turned to normal. Now that I was holding the Catalyst in my hands, I just wanted to get over with the ceremony, wanted the people to stop staring at me. I raised the cup to my lips and gulped down its content. It tasted as bitter as it smelled, making me squint my eyes. I expected it to burn in my throat, but it felt more like eating a piece of soap, foamy and slick. In a certain sense, I was disappointed. Agony was supposed to burn.

“Pain lures the wolf. Give in to its call,” my dad said.

The pack echoed dutifully.

Until now, neither pain nor calling. There were no records that the Catalyst ever had failed. If that ancient ritual didn’t work, it would be the first remarkable thing about me, something to replace the dullness that was my life. Dad would twist it into an omen about my strength of will and some born alpha mumbo jumbo. I’d simply enjoy having done something unexpected, a prospect that made me smile.

A contraction of my stomach killed that smile. It felt like having to puke, but without anything to throw up. Other muscles joined in and tried to pull my body into my stomach. My hand smashed the cup, making a point why it was plastic only. The pulling became stronger. My body doubled up, and the more I fought against it, the more I writhed. I didn’t scream when jumping off a diving platform; I didn’t scream when riding a roller coaster; now, I yearned to scream, but the cramped muscles choked me off. My brain registered a thud, and by intuition only, I concluded that I had dropped to the floor. There was no sense of balance, nothing outside of me. I had been wrong: agony didn’t require burning. This had to end. One way or the other. If there was a fucking wolf inside of me, it should come out now or kill me right away. Threatening wouldn’t work, for wolves were dignified creatures. An outbreak like this invoked its defiance only. Give in to its call. Don’t force it! Time was without meaning. I had lost all sense for duration to the pain. Pain replaced everything. Into this timeless state, a motion invaded and rippled through my body, working against the contraction and giving me an anchor to cling to. I braced for the moment that this relief ended. Seconds ticked by. Nothing happened. I opened my mouth to catch up on the missed scream, but a strange growling noise came out instead. I inhaled deeply and regretted this immediately, for a plethora of aromas short-circuited my brain. This was too much information to make sense of, like a thousand different sentences spoken at once. I held my breath and directed my attention inside, away from this olfactory dissonance. What I found there was as confusing as the smells: my body felt complete, but everything seemed to be in the wrong place. I opened my eyes to see if this was true. My vision was blurred, and I blinked several times. I couldn’t trust my eyes either, because the world was drained of most colors. The clothing of the people around me had changed to a grayish yellow with an occasional blue gleam, while the room brimmed with brightness.

“With due respect we welcome the wolf that is Elias Knightington,” my dad said at a volume that was only just bearable.

I actually had forgotten why I had gone through this ordeal. I was a wolf now. Applying canine standards, nothing was wrong with my perception or my limbs. That was how a wolf experienced its surroundings; that was how a wolf felt its body; that was being the wolf. For the first time, the stories my parents had told me made sense. They didn’t exaggerate when they said that it was something special, that it was a gift to be able to shift. I didn’t fully understand my human body yet, and now, there was a different form of me, rife with new possibilities to explore. I wanted to move, wanted to experience how it felt to move. But how did I use four legs instead of two? First, I had to get up. This couldn’t be that difficult. I had crawled around as a toddler all day, and this should work the same. The comparison with my favorite mode of movement as a kid was hilarious. I laughed. At least, I wanted to laugh, but I croaked out a series of raspy growls instead. The people around me chuckled and snickered. Were they making fun of me? I looked around. Mom and Dad laughed too, but Jamie and Dillon didn’t. The pack was laughing with me, not about me. They knew those strange sounds because they had laughed the wolf laugh themselves.

Jamie turned to our mom. “Is he dangerous, Mommy?” He just wasn’t able to whisper, and superior wolf hearing wasn’t necessary to overhear him.

She caressed his cheek. “No, honey, he isn’t. He still is your brother, however different he may look now.”

He eyed up mom. “Can I touch him?” The possibility to pet a real wolf made him glow all over his face.

“You have to ask him.” Mom gestured at me, smiling.

Jamie turned to me, but didn’t say a word. Even with my altered vision, I saw the thoughts racing through his mind. He wasn’t sure how to talk to a wolf. But who was? I’d have to show him that I didn’t mind him touching me. Thinking of my fore-paws as hands, I got up on all fours. This worked surprisingly well. I was still a little shaky, but I kept on my legs, paws, whatever. As I moved towards Jamie, one step after another, his eyes widened, and he pressed himself against Mom. I didn’t want to frighten him and stopped. As a human, I towered over Jamie, was almost twice as tall as him, but now me being a wolf, we were on eye level. An interesting perspective. I tilted my head, hoping that Jamie understood this as an invitation. Mom did.

“Don’t be afraid. He wants you to come closer.” She gave him a little shove.

Jamie made a step forward, the insecurity still showing on his face. I closed the distance between us, bowed down a little, and rested my head against his side. We stood just like this for a moment before I felt a small hand gently touching my neck, finger by finger. He took his time stroking along my spine. It was no wonder that dogs went to extremes for being petted because there was no human feeling it compared to. My fur moved with the strokes and against it, rose up and lay down, causing the strangest sensations. I wouldn’t mind those feelings to go on forever.

“You’re so soft,” Jamie said in another of his non-whispers. He slung his arms around me, snuggling up against me.

More chuckling and the occasional triggering of a camera filled the cabin. I couldn’t care less about the people around me. This moment with my little brother was just too precious.

“Let your brother finish his initiation, Jamie,” Dad said. His tone was friendly, but Jamie let go of me immediately. Everything Dad said was a command, regardless of form. Jamie returned to Mom, holding on to her leg, and Dad put a hand on his shoulder. The little one stiffened up, mulling over what he had done wrong. Dad didn’t even notice this. Or didn’t want to notice. I’d talk to the short one later and would let him know how much I had enjoyed cuddling with him.

“You passed the test and endured the Agony. This pack deems you worthy,” Dad said.

“You are worthy.”

“In silver, we forge the bond,” Dad said and raised a silver chain with both hands, some three feet long.

This was one of these points where folklore and reality collided in a bizarre way. It didn’t take a silver bullet to kill a were creature, but silver forced them… us… into human form. Until I had learned to shift at will, silver was the fall back plan.

“Receive this gift from your pack.” Dad knelt down beside me and wound the chain around my right front paw in loose loops.

It would take some time getting used to words like paw and fur to describe me. Where the chain touched me, that strange sense of motion, the one that had marked the end of the Agony, set in again. When I had encountered it first, it had felt like a push, now it felt like a pull. The sensation spread into my shoulder, my torso, everywhere. It was uncomfortable, but after the Agony ‘uncomfortable’ had become a relative term. My fur melted and trickled into the skin beneath. The colors returned to my vision, and now that the wolf hearing was gone, my ears felt numb, the same feeling you had during take off in a plane. The motion faded, and the transformation was complete. I already missed being a wolf, missed the excitement of the new. I’d practice every day until I could shift at will. There was so much to discover yet. I shivered. Though I was drenched in sweat, I felt cold, and goosebumps formed all over my body.

“Here, honey.” Mum wrapped a blanket around me. “Soon, you’ll be warm again.” In a whisper, she added. “I’m proud of you, honey.”

That was the first time that those words came over her lips.