Author's Note: Okay, so this update took a little longer, I realise, and for that I am sorry. Believe me? *pause* Didn't think so. Anyway, had a hectic couple of days at work, where the evilness of under ten-year-olds was justified, and I felt like screaming and pulling out all my hair. *cough* Okay, I'm doing being melodramatic, and I feel like letting you get on with the reading now…
life sucks: Don't worry about it, my friend. I appreciate what reviews I get from you. They are very comforting :D As for the grades… yipe, not sure what to say about that apart from good luck in everything. Thank you for the comfort regarding the plot. I wasn't sure at the beginning, but I'm really starting to have fun with this now *manic grin* Perhaps too much fun…
Rayne: Thank you. I really went all out on the transformation in the hopes I would do all those werewolf fanatics justice. I'm glad you liked it. You know me, trying to keep my updates swift *wink*
drowchild: Again, thank you for the comment about the transformation. Joe sounds like they needs a slap… whoever they are. Kill a horse? Oh god, I couldn't do that! I love horses!
Niani: Ah yes, the woman. Sorry I killed her off before any of you got to see what she was about… no, wait, I'm not sorry *looks at notes* 'cause it's a minor part of the plot. *turns notes* See? Oops *turns it back and stuffs it in her pocket* Shouldn't be waving that around. Gruesome? Oh it could have been worse…
Enduro: Ah, Enduro, hi! Wow, you reviewed! Cool! Ack… must stop using exclamation marks… that's better. I've calmed down. As for your comment about the help, of course what you gave me was brilliant! I'm just saving it :D Trust me… it will not be wasted.
Sethoz: *fans you with her hand* It wasn't that e- okay… maybe it was. Evil? Moi? :O That's harsh… what about you? Yes, the League is being quite lazy and silly… haven't they learned from my past stories that this is dangerous! And as for your comment on the 'pack animal' thing… *showers you with cookies and wolf-shaped confetti* And as for your tongue twister at the end… hehehehe.
Emily M. Hanson: Thank you, I intend to.
RogueSparrow: He went that-a-way! *points* Yes, his werewolf form is quite scary… as in terrifying. He's huge, he's hairy and he's got nice sharp teeth and claws to go with it. New characters shall arrive soon! Have no fear… I mean it… don't be scared…
LotRseer3350: Other werewolves? *looks from side to side* Who have you been talking to? You can't prove a thing! *remembers her trailer* Oh… never mind. Thank you regarding the transformation :D
The only sound that penetrated the dense copse was that of the running feet of a large black form, its eyes glinting silver in the moonlight, its pants short and sharp, rhythmic and regular as it travelled, its speed unearthly. For its bulk, its grace and agility were astounding, as it leapt over logs and small pools in the wood, sniffing the air again and growling bestially as the scent became clearer. It was getting closer with every passing moment.
Tom Sawyer – in his werewolf form – didn't exactly know what it was that he was chasing. The animal inside of him could not resist the urge to follow it. There was something so alluring about it that it was impossible to defy.
With a growl, he burst from the edge of the trees, and slowed his pace, coming up on the edge of a town. He crouched behind an abandoned cart, and peered into the centre of civilisation from his hiding place, looking out with silver slits from under the wheels. Any child in the town may have caught a glint of the eyes and run to their mother screaming about monsters… but by that point, the beast would already be gone.
Still travelling – for ease and swiftness – on all fours, Tom slinked away, heading along the tree line and keeping to the shadows. His nose led him on his way, where the scent grew more and more defined as he moved. It would not be long now until he found whatever it was he could smell.
The scent was odd… there was something about it he could not deny being familiar to, yet the particulars were foreign. He just knew that the bestial part of him had to follow it at all costs.
He trotted along for many minutes, his senses finely tuned and alert for any sign of his quarry… unknown as it was. Then he stopped suddenly, feet planted widely and firmly on the ground, and his neck arched as he raised his muzzle into the air to sniff. It had moved… the scent was drifting. The jowls of the werewolf curled up, and the teeth snapped slightly in irritation. He would have to move quickly to keep on their trail.
So it was that he broke into a run, his paw-like hands and feet carrying him the distance with astounding ease. There it was! He had found it again, and he turned in the new direction, heading away from the town further and further as he broke into a full-on gallop of a run. His breath curled away from his maw as he ran, legs pumping to keep his pace constant and steady.
It was in the cover of bushes and short trees that he stopped in his charge, and flattened his ears back against his broad skull, the left one twitching as he heard a crunch. His eyesight was so heightened that he had very little trouble in scouting through the bushes themselves, the twigs and small leaves doing nothing to hinder his observation of the small park-like opening on the other side. His lips drew back in a growl, a very low rumbling of sound as the form of the owner of the smell became clear for what it was.
Another werewolf… this one smaller and more lithe than Tom himself. The hair was thinner, and less coarse, of an almost-tan colour when under the light. The head and muzzle were shorter, the teeth in the jaw more shallow in the gums as the maw closed around whatever it was eating, or working on killing. There were wispy tufts of brown hair from the canine ears, and yellow eyes blinked slowly as the jaws snapped closed around a bone and crushed it, tearing it from the prey it kept pinned under one of its paws on the forelimbs. The limbs themselves were more in proportion and much more animalistic than Tom's, and close-set black claws protruded from the pads of the werewolf's feet. There was no tail, and the spine arched slightly as it choked down the meat from the bone of – what Tom had finally identified to be – a deer. Tom's eyes narrowed as he saw clothing hanging torn and ruined from the form, and he noted the way the wolf's head suddenly froze, and one of the ears turned.
Tom took a step forward, crushing dead leaves under his gigantic clawed foot, and the wolf hovering over the carcass tensed, and dug its claws into the deer's corpse, drawing thick red blood… the same of which was smeared slightly around the beast's muzzle.
It knew Tom was there.
Snarling in a feral manner when the other wolf turned, covering its prey with its bulk, Tom exploded from his cover, leaping through the air and landing on the ground a matter of feet from the opponent. He dug his claws into the ground underfoot, and tore up great gouges of dirt and grass. The hair along his spine and shoulders bristled, his hackles rising threateningly.
The other beast growled a warning for him to keep away from its kill, and craned its short neck forward, opening its maw to reveal the bloodied canines. The yellow eyes narrowed angrily, and it bellowed, the pitch higher than Tom's own.
He parted his jaws to show his own fangs, dripping with saliva, and he let out a loud rumble of a snarl, taking a step forward. The other animal did not agree with his positioning, and trembled with rage at the indecency of the interruption and the challenge for its meal. It may also have claimed this as its territory, and therefore felt the need to defend such land, by whatever means necessary.
But Tom was far larger, and from the size of his limbs in comparison to his new opponent… there was not much to worry about… though he could not fathom in his reasonable mind why he wished to fight at all. The deer did not interest him, nor did the territory. It was just another urge… one too enticing to combat.
He began to pace forward, inch by inch, the other beast staying stubbornly rigid in its defiance over its kill, its growls becoming more and more fervent and menacing, reaching a frightening pitch as he came to a stop, right before it, their noses only a matter of centimetres apart.
The other wolf started to almost whine with its fury, and finally, when its patience completely wore away, it swiped at his muzzle, batting him around the face, claws barely missing his flesh. The blow had been a warning.
Infuriated now, the bestial rage taking over, Tom bellowed right in its face, and lunged, tackling it and slamming it back and to the ground, his hind legs working as his drive and power, giving him the leverage he needed to force his opponent into the dirt. He felt the mud underneath his adversary shift and give way slightly, and the other beast dug all four legs into his abdomen and pushed viciously.
Tom was thrown back, and over the carcass of the deer, now forgotten to both wolves. All they were concentrating on was each other, and being the victor in the fight. He was on his feet at once, standing on hind legs at a monstrous, looming height, towering over the tan wolf, practically howling in anger and daring it to come forth in a charge.
And that was just what it did, ploughing into him and bowling him right off his powerful hind legs and into the ground. They rolled over and over, snapping and clawing at one another, their talons slashing the other's flesh and tearing out chunks of hair. Tom got a brief grip with his jaws on the other wolf's forelimb, and it yelped loudly, slapping him across the muzzle with the flat side of its paw. Tom recoiled, shaking his great head, and growled, teeth bared.
The tan wolf, bleeding from the wound on its upper left foreleg limped towards him, and reared up on its own hind legs. Tom answered the challenge by copying the first wolf, and they roared in each other's faces, an animalistic test of who was bigger, and who was louder.
Tom won by far, but that did not stop the smaller from throwing itself at him, springing up into the air and latching around his upper body, digging its claws into his shoulder blades for purchase as it reached down to bite his neck.
To throw it off balance, Tom pitched forward instinctively, onto his own forelegs, and pressed one of his huge paw-like hands right into the chest of his opponent, and pushing with all his might, feeling the claws tear out of his back. He roared in pain, and pressed his other hand down on the opposing side of the wolf's chest, snarling right in its face.
He opened his maw wide, jaws at their limit, and moved to come down for the crushing killing blow… and then he stopped. That smell…
Tom knew that smell…
His human mind snapped into focus, and his lupine eyes widened, before he closed his jaws with a snap, and threw himself backwards, landing in a predatory, balanced crouch.
Willing it to come into being with all his might, he felt his body twist and contort, bones snapping and reshaping as he started to shift back into human form. Something had come to him to give him the power and drive to control it… and before long he was Tom Sawyer again. He stared, green eyes wide, and his jaw dropped a little at the remembrance of the smell.
The other wolf had rolled onto its front and reclaimed purchase on the ground, and was now eyeing him warily, but advancing at a steady, confident pace. It growled menacingly.
It can't be… it's impossible.
With this thought in mind, Tom parted his lips and muttered, "Anise?"
The wolf stopped, ears pricking, and the yellow eyes blinked twice, staring him in the face. It cocked its bestial head, sniffed once, whimpered, and then swiftly started to twist and contort. Their own transformation was far less painful and torturous than Tom's, it seemed, and before long, a figure sat huddled in the grass, bloodied and covered in tattered shreds of clothing. Their brown hair was in their face, and for a while, their head was down turned. Tom stared, disbelieving… waiting.
Then the face lifted, and the chocolate eyes met his, the beautiful features bearing confusion and incredulity. The delicate brow furrowed, and they cocked their head slightly to one side. "Tom?"
Tom felt his heart skip a beat, almost leaping into his throat.
It was her… Anise!
"Oh my god…" he breathed, all other words failing him, and he crawled forward, not feeling the pain from the wounds on his shoulder blades, and he came to a stop two feet from her own crouched form. He reached out a hand, and tentatively touched her cheek.
She was real…
"How…" he managed, and drew his hand away, lingering for only a moment. He realised he had been following her scent all along, and the deep urge in his subconscious added to the animalistic instinct had caused him to follow it. And just now… her perfume, as faint as it was.
Her eyes shimmered with tears, and she blinked them back, mouthing words that took on no sound for a few moments, before saying, "It's you." The accent was still there, as gentle and soothing as he remembered it.
"You died," he said, not meaning for it to come out as an accusation. He shook his head; dishevelled blonde bangs in his eyes and settling on his brow. "Mina… she killed you."
Anise Delacroix smiled, the expression carrying only a slight trace of happiness. "Not quite."
She took his hand, and gently ran it over her skin from her neck downwards, until he felt the scar. She peeled back what remained of her blouse from that area, revealing the ugly evidence of where Mina Harker had stabbed her with a silver dagger. But its positioning… it should have killed her.
"An inch to the left… and she would have," Anise revealed grimly, with a lingering of regret.
Tom didn't know what to feel… happiness was what wished to take precedence, but there was also a clinging edge of sadness at seeing her alive. She had wanted to die, and she had been denied that grace. "All this time… I thought you were dead… and you've been here, alive."
Anise locked gazes with Tom, and her smile fell, her eyes widening slightly as if in realisation. "Oh, god, Tom… what happened to you?"
Tom pulled his head back slightly.
"You… look at you… how did this happen?" Anise's face carried all signs of distress and disappointment, coupled with guilt.
Tom hung his head slightly, looking up at her through his locks of hair, saying simply, "Jacques."
"But I killed him. I-"
Tom smiled wanly. "The window. He scratched me… at least that's the only thing I can think of to explain all of… this." He sighed heavily, and then felt the sharp stinging in his back. He hissed through clenched teeth, wincing and closing his eyes. He groaned quietly.
"Oh, I hurt you," Anise murmured awkwardly, and moved to inspect his wounds.
Though he was unsure why, Tom flinched away from her, and looked her in the face, saying after a moment, "I'll be okay. Werewolves heal fast, right?"
Anise turned her head suddenly, and it was only then that Tom truly realised the change in her beautiful tresses of brown hair… they had been cut to her shoulder, dishevelled and almost wild. He frowned.
"Someone is coming," she whispered harshly and turned her head back to him at once, struggling to her feet. She offered him her hand, and he hesitated. The last time he had trusted her… she had betrayed him. But she had come through for him in the end, hadn't she? That had to be worth something.
He reached up, clasping her hand and wrist, and heaved himself off the ground, pushing down the pain in his back and ignoring the fact that he wore only slightly torn pants. He jogged quickly with Anise into the trees, a thousand questions burning in his mind as to what was happening.
Tom just couldn't believe it.
Anise Delacroix was alive.