Ok – posting this story. A word of warning – our current trio does not make an immediate appearance in this story (sorry). They should make an appearance sometime soon though, lol. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my characters and the references to the show!

Look forward to hearing what you think. :)

Chapter One

It was the night of the dogfights that night and Lindsey, true to form, was already screaming her head off. "Jesus, I swear that girl turns early," muttered Rob, leaning against the side of the makeshift cage. Bryn sat calmly in the corner, her long legs tucked under her in lotus position. Her hands, however, were slightly clenched.

She felt the first grips of the change coming. The gripping pain that latched onto her bones. But she remained stoically clam, concentrating deep within herself, turning her mind inwards.

Everyone wondered how she did it—the werewolf who never screamed. Concentration, focused attention: that was it. And years and years of practice—and the legacy of it.

The pain reared up again, stronger. She felt the beginning of claws prick the skin of her thumbs. Bryn closed her eyes. Next came the lengthening of the snout. From the main ring, Lindsey's cries had reached fever pitch. Any second and she'd shut up, her body closing down over the agony. Throat, gullet, and vocal cords tearing and reforming and the pituitary gland failing to provide blessed relief, as usual—yes, Lindsey would still feel the pain. But at least she'd feel it in silence, or until her howls kicked in.

"Ready?" Asked Rob, though it wasn't really a question. He was good at his job—he knew when they were about to snap, to transform. He knew how she liked to go into the pen: as human as possible. It put on a good show. They just ate it up.

Bryn rose in response. She'd waited a bit too long this time—if she wasn't careful she'd break down on the entry and then where would they be? The old Soviet munitions dump was filled to overflowing. They'd been promised Bryn and they wanted to see her.

'I've retired from the ring.' She'd told Rob. 'I don't fight anymore; I don't tour.'

'This Lycurious thing has me thinking though.' Rob had said. 'What's up with that? And the transformation video…'

"Phenomenally stupid.' She'd cut in.

'Someone's out to get you guys.' Rob carried on over her.

'Something's always after our kind.' Had been Bryn's snorting reply. She was used to it.

'Could you ask?'

'No.' Too abruptly. She felt bad. 'Anyway, last I heard he was headed to South America.' Rob sighed, acknowledging the improbability of it all reluctantly.

He'd dropped the subject, but not for long. Two days later he was back in the gym office, complaining again. 'I don't like the look of it.' He frowned. 'Have you seen them? And the name: Silver Bullet.'

'Distinct death threat tone, I know. So are you canceling the Eastern European tour?'

'No.'

'You want to ask questions.' Said Bryn, eyeing Rob narrowly.

'Have you ever been to Wales?' Asked Rob, intent on deflecting her.

That was unexpected. But she let him get away with the subject change. When Rob had his mind set on something, nothing deterred him. So she answered him. 'No. England yes, Wales no. Why?'

' 'Cause Gabe thinks that's where these are coming from. All these references to Barry.'

So here they were—the whole pack of them. Six werewolves, seven handlers, Ukraine. And she had to go on. Tim had been injured in practice last week and no one trusted Lindsey to play it easy for him. Bryn had more than half a mind that Rob had something to do with Tim's withdrawal; he probably wanted to make a big statement. And she was definitely that.

She walked out proudly into the lights. They roared, screaming for her, screaming at her. Lindsey was in the final stages of her transformation. Aside from a slight lengthening of her jaw and nose and the claws Bryn was nearly perfectly human.

Oh they liked a spectacle. So she shrugged off the black silk boxing jacket—embroidered, naturally, with wolves heads that looked like flames. That was a mistake. She could feel the bumps forming up her spine, forcing her to raise her shoulders and brace herself against the pain with gritted teeth. Teeth that felt—that were—increasingly canine. But she mastered herself and stepped forward, all the way into the arena. Rob closed the door behind her with a clang.

She faced Lindsey calmly, even though every fiber of her was aching to explode and to become the wolf. Lindsey finished her transformation and stood up with a howl, eying the relatively unchanged form of Bryn warily.

The crowd also howled, wanting a show. "Lassie! Lassie!" Some cried, while others yelled "Bryn!" or perhaps "Brynhild!"

But Bryn didn't even hear them. She was in her own world, focused completely on her body, eking the last tired strands of humanity from it. Her eyes glazed, as if in a trance and her hands clenched—she could feel the hair on her palms coming in follicle by follicle.

The small werewolf gave a twisting lunge, soaring through the air towards the still, tall figure. The spectators drew breath—was it all finally over?

Bryn exploded into a ball of fur and fang.