Chapter one; Ulvenwald

The Ulvenwald* makes no allowances for youth. Today's newborn is either tomorrow's hunter or tomorrow's lunch.

"I think we've walked long enough, Fussa." Rage stopped, looking around at the slowly darkening woods, "I can't hear the city anymore."

Fussa nodded and stopped, too. He turned to face Rage, pulling off his sunglasses. His eyes had been changing for the last week and had gone from a deep hazel to a piercing gold. Now, without the distracting scratches and smudges on his sunglasses—that he had long since given up on ever cleaning off—every detail of the forest came into sharp focus. He took a deep breath and sighed. Rage might not be able to hear the city, but Fussa could smell it. He silently thanked his lucky stars that the wolf hated the smell. Personally, he wasn't too fond of it either. He untied his jacket from around his shoulders, stuck his sunglasses in one of the pockets, and handed it to Rage.

A sudden question from the wrath doji as he took the jacket caught him off guard, "Can I watch you change?"

Fussa stopped in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt and looked at Rage, "Why?"

"I'm curious. I want to see what happens." He shrugged, "It's not like you can kill me."

Fussa groaned, "No. It's…kinda private." He growled, pulling off his shirt and throwing it to the ground. He looked back at Rage and sighed, "But you're gonna find a way to watch anyways, aren't you?" Rage nodded, "Fine! You can fucking watch." The exclamation was more snarl than shout. He kicked off his shoes and glared at the moon as it rose.

Rage smiled a little and jumped up into a tree to watch. He knew better than to be on the ground with the wolf. It couldn't kill him, but an attack would still hurt like hell.

Fussa rolled his shoulders as his muscles rearranged a little and sighed, anticipating the upcoming pain. He groaned as it started on his head, right between his eyes.

Rage sat on the branch, knees to his chest. His eyes widened a little as Fussa suddenly cried out in pain and collapsed to his knees, holding his head. He craned his head out to get a better look, when a scream and a snarl, then the sounds of a fight, ripped through the quiet of the forest. He jerked his head up in the direction of the sounds. A nearby rustle distracted him, and he looked back at Fussa. Gone. Rage cursed under his breath and ran after his master. He burst into a clearing and froze as he took in the sight—hard as it was to wrap his mind around. On one half of the clearing, a fully transformed Fussa was fighting with a green-eyed, blonde werewolf—just the thought of another werewolf in the area shocked him—and on the other, leaned against a large tree, was Mizho, curled up in a ball and bleeding heavily. A few hundred different scenarios ran through his head. He made a swift decision and ran over to Mizho.

"What the fuck happened?" He knelt beside her, but kept his eyes on the fighting wolves.

"H-How the hell should I know? Why the fuck are you here?" Her single eye looked up at him, scared and confused. He sighed heavily and glanced at her before looking up at the wolves again.

"That black wolf? That's Fussa." He nodded at the snarling balls of furry fury across the clearing.

"W-What?" She sat up, wincing in pain, and looked over. She could immediately see the resemblance in the long, poofy fur, "H-Holy shit…" Her vision nearly blacked out from the blood loss, but she managed to stay conscious, thanks to her self-training the last year or so. She looked at Rage and saw him staring at her shoulder wound, "W-What?" The look in the robot's eyes sent fresh fear through her.

"You were…bitten?" The shock from the wounds and the sudden change in worldly knowledge made her have to slowly process this new information. She hesitantly looked down at her bleeding shoulder. The fabric of her shirt was torn away, revealing what was very obviously a bite wound. Her eyes widened and she let out a wail as realization hit her.

*Ulvenwald is a very important thing later on; don't ask about it, the story will explain it later.

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