The amount of differences between a naturally born werewolf and one that was bitten is absurdly high.

He held her tightly, the flesh of his chest cold and clammy against her back, each breath reverberating through them both like a hammer strike. They lay naked in the darkness. Watching. Listening.

“Will it hurt?” She nuzzled her chin against his hand, clutched it tight. Squeezed.

“I was born this way. I’ve never known anything else. My body, it learnt to adapt, to grow and accept the inevitable.” He kissed her neck. “But this is all new for you. You’re going to break bones and grow muscles.”

“It sounds painful.”

“I wish there was something I could do, to make it easier, to help you through.”

“And after? When I’ve… changed.”

He watched the hairs on his arms slowly begin to grow. Felt the tips of his canines descend. She shuddered. Shook. Screamed.

“Fight it Liz. You have to fight it. I can keep my mind, because I’ve always shared it. But you need to concentrate.”

She pushed him away and clawed at the ground.

“There are two halves inside of you,” he continued.

Her hair fell and grew again. Her lovely skin tore and knitted again, a matte of fur growing and pulling and bleeding and healing. She mewled like a wounded animal and he watched.

“The Moon, it’s bringing forth the animal. The monster and the need to hunt.”

Her nails fell, her fingers curling into a bloody stump until claws burst forth. She held them up, panic riding her eyes until her vision split, darkened and came back in shades of grey. She opened her mouth, the bone jutting out into a jaw even as she moved, and howled.

“You need to keep yourself Liz. You need to find your centre. If you don’t, there will only be the animal.”

She looked up, sniffed the air and turned towards him on four paws. Her eyes glinted yellow in the moonlight and he saw the love of his life wither and die. He leapt for her, feeling the bones shift, the old familiar joints lock into place.

He pounced and landed, straddling the bitch and snapping to get her attention. She fought.

“If you let it win,” he rasped through vocal chords not designed for human speech, “every time you return there will be a bit less of you. I need you to fight.”

She swiped at him, knocking him over, before she sprinted into the night.


Prompt originally posted by TheSs7SsN on reddit and received 7 upvotes.

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