I gasp. I don’t see four men in front of me any longer. Instead, what I see are four humanoid wolves, their bodies lowered down to all fours, muzzles extended, teeth bared, growling softly at one another.
I scuttle backwards into the corner as much as I can, my fear paralyzing me, making me unable to run. Would I run if I could? I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a wolf shifter in his wolf shape. I don’t know what part of their brain is dominant. Is it the animal part or the human part? Do they remember me even? Do they know that they are here to protect me?
At that moment, Fynn turns his face to me. It’s not his face anymore. But, they are his eyes. The eyes never change, even when the entire body does. His eyes are kind. I know he recognizes me. He knows why he is here. Anderson follows suit. They take two steps back, sheltering me with their hairy, lupine bodies. Somehow, my tension weakens. I am able to breathe properly again. The sight before me isn’t fear-provoking any longer.
I look over at Sven and Kayne, and see that they also changed themselves into wolves. But, I can’t take my eyes off of Fynn and Anderson. Their fur is glossy, thick, silvery white. Their paws scrape the cement floor we found ourselves on, and there is rage in their gazes. They are here for revenge. We all are.
They turn back at our enemies, their neck muscles protruding through the smooth fur. They are confident, bold. They feel no fear, if they ever did as humans. Suddenly, Fynn looks up at the ceiling, his wolfish silhouette on the wall opposite us extending. His howl fills the air around us. His hymn tells me everything will be alright. I need worry no more.
Without warning, Fynn lunges at one of the wolf figures opposite him. Anderson immediately does the same. What follows is a bloody dance of fangs and claws, torn fur and skin, digging teeth and howls.
A part of me wants to look away, but another part can’t seem to take my eyes off of them. They are so majestic. Fearless. They are stripped of every bad aspect of being a human, and they are left with their lupine ferocity, but still with enough consciousness to know exactly what they are doing and what they’re fighting for.
Fynn is fighting like there is no tomorrow. He takes blows and bites, but gives twice as many in return. Anderson is more cautious. He carefully deals his blows, he isn’t taking as many. Just as in character, these two differ in their approach to fighting as well.
Their paws scrape against the cement floor as they jump and land on their feet, if not onto their enemies’ bodies. Every bite into their bodies I feel like my own wound. We are interconnected, our souls intertwined, even though our bodies never united, not even once. I watch them, wondering how something like this could even happen to me.
Unexpectedly, Kayne plunges at Fynn, and manages to bring him down. Fynn growls, but Kayne has already dug his teeth into the soft flesh of Fynn’s neck.
“No!” I scream, afraid that this attack might render Fynn motionless.
Led by some invisible force, feeling like I’m floating a few inches off the ground and my feet are not even touching it, I rush towards Fynn. Kayne has his back turned to me, his teeth still inside Fynn’s neck, unwilling to let go.
My body seems to have a mind of its own, a mind that is unafraid to do even the scariest thing to save the ones she loves. I squeeze the little knife tightly in my hand, not even sure if it could hurt someone like Kayne. I have only one chance, and I need to make it count.
With the corner of my eye, I see that Anderson’s got the upper hand on Sven, so he doesn’t need help. But, he also can’t help Fynn. I’m his only hope, unless Kayne release the grip on his neck, but that is probably not happening.
Neither Fynn nor Kayne notice me coming. That gives me the element of surprise, so I jump onto Kayne’s back, one hand grabbing at his thick fur and the other driving the knife into the side of his neck. Before I extract it, I make sure to twist the knife upward, then forcefully pull it out. As I reach to stab him again, Kayne shakes me off of him, and I drop to the ground. Fynn is breathing heavily, and I wrap my arms around him, protecting him with my body.
But, Kayne is bleeding heavily. He can barely stand up. He teeters to the left, then to the right, then his front legs drop down.
“You…. bitch…” he manages to muster, before his body slumps down like a puppet whose strings got loose and there was no one to keep it going any longer.
I watch as the blood trickles out of his wound, and I know he’s a goner. I’ve hit the artery, even though I had no idea where I was stabbing.
“Sometimes…” I hear Fynn try to say, “we have more luck than brains…”
He coughs immediately after, but he manages to get up. I check his neck. I need to remove his thick fur to see the bite marks.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
“A little,” he admits. “But, he didn’t have the good luck you had.”
I smile. His muzzle looks so weird. And the words that he’s saying sound a little distorted, but I understand him.
At that moment, I remember Anderson, and I turn to him. Sven is lying on the ground. He looks unconscious. Anderson is breathing heavily, already having transformed back into his human form.
“Come on, grandpa,” Anderson laughs, mocking Fynn. “Don’t tell me that bastard almost got you?”
He walks over to Fynn, and rubs his hand through Fynn’s fur, which is now slightly stained with blood.
“That’s a nasty bite, but you’ll live,” he assures him. “Now, what am I going to wear in public?”
It’s only then that I realize that Anderson is butt naked. Their transformation made them tear their clothes off their backs, so they had nothing to put on. Fynn slowly transforms back, and I try not to show how uneasy that crackling sound makes me. But, I can’t hide it.
“You’ll get used to it,” Anderson smiles.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
“Like a motherfucker,” he chuckles. “That’s why we only do it when it’s necessary. Never just for fun or for show.”
“You… did it for me?” I manage to whisper.
Fynn joins our intimate little circle, and I don’t even mind that both of them are naked. It doesn’t take away from the sanctity of the moment.
“We’d do anything for you,” Fynn says this time. “Haven’t you figured that out already?”
At the same time, we all spread our arms around one another, and we remain like that hugging, for a long time. Then, I suddenly remember.
“But… my father?” I take a step back, the first to break our hug. “We can’t ask them now where he is.”
All three of us look at the two dead bodies lying in front of us.
“Dead men tell no secrets,” Anderson reminds us.
“How am I going to find out where my father is now?”
I am overcome with all the emotions, and I drop down to my knees, bursting out into tears. I’m sobbing uncontrollably, and Anderson is the first to wrap his arms around me. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what, and neither do I. I just know that I survived, but at the expense of my father’s life. I wanted at least one more moment, just one, just to tell him that I don’t think he is to blame for anything that’s happened. We can’t be held responsible for what other people do. We can only get entangled into it.