Willow was frightened. She'd finally regained consciousness only to find she was leaning against a tree with her arms in the air and secured by old rope ( at least she hoped it was rope…yuk) to an above branch. Her mouth was gagged, but her mind cast about desperately for someone to come and help her.
A figure dropped from above but stayed in the shadows.
"You can try all the magic you want, witch," it said. "It'll do you very little good." Then the speaker stepped into the moonlight and Willow almost wet her pants.
She was five years old and her harried mother had plopped her and Xander down in front of the TV, put in the tape of Disny's Make Mine Music and said "Here, watch this. And be good. Mommy has to work." So they'd watched it and liked the section about Casey at the bat, and Xander made her laugh when he tried to talk like the crazy guy who was telling the story. She'd squealed with delight. And then the next section started and they were introducing all the characters, and she liked the cat Ivan and the boy Peter and she was realizing that the man telling this story had the same voice as Winnie the Pooh, when suddenly he was saying "And there was also…a wolf." And Willow's peals of childish laughter had turned to screams of fright.
He frothed at the mouth, this wolf, his lips smacking together in a way that she knew meant he'd be happy to eat her or any other little children who crossed his path. His eyes were wild, yellow-red things that seemed to fix on her with pure hatred and malevolence. His coat was the darkest black she had ever seen and he seemed to have more teeth than there were trees in the forest.
The creature she was looking at now...was worse. It stood upright, like a man, but there was more ferocity in its presence than she had ever encountered. His lower legs were like tree trunks and his front claws were longer and sharper than anything in any nightmare she'd ever had. She was embarrassed and ashamed to find herself trembling.
"You're right to be afraid, young one." It said. She recognized the voice-it was Mike Gray Dog. He was a...
That was when it hit her—he could speak! In wolf form, this…werewolf? No, she knew a little something about werewolves—dated one for almost two years straight, thank you—and they weren't like this. Oz had never been like this. When he was all wolf-y he was an animal without any of the cool intelligence that had attracted her to him in the first place. Even that bitch Veruca who'd—okay, concentrate. Focus on the big scary in front of you. He was bigger and darker than Oz had ever been as a wolf. And he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how terrified she was. And he liked it.
Willow was at once desperately missing Tara and glad that she wasn't there to see this thing. And what he was going to do to her.