Ambrose hated the change that was brought upon him when the moonlight filtered through and fell upon him. His head was bowed, as he rested with fists pressed hard to the floor. His fingers were digging into the palms of his hands, to the point that little impressions of his now slightly longer nails were left in his flesh. He hated the change, he hated the wolf, and he hated what he had become. What had happened to being normal? Why did he have to lose the one thing he could claim? That he was still normal in a world that was everything but?

The thoughts fled from his mind, however, as the change truly started and he couldn't help but let out an inhuman keen as his flesh rippled and started to change, as pain lanced through every part of his body and didn't stop. His body was quickly on it's way to becoming not his, but rather that of the wolf he was meant to become. He let out a howl full of ache, his face stretching and contorting until it was beginning to look like a wolf's muzzle and not a human face, his muscles and bones snapping and changing and realigning until they were that of the wolf.

The man was quickly becoming a foreigner within his own flesh as a horrible itch started at the tip of his fingers and spread out from there, fur sprouting out and starting to cover his skin. His clothing might've been torn to shreds if he had not thought ahead and disrobed before hand, his eyes no lo longer human staring out at the pile of clothing beyond the bars of the brig that held him contained. The change hurt, so badly, but even as he continued to go through the misery, he knew it was something his body would become adjusted to.

It was a sickening thought that he would become used to this, even if he did not consciously realize it. His body would eventually begin to welcome the change, the way his bones snapped and ground together and continued to pop for hours after his change until he became well adjusted to his wolf body. If it were not for the lupine instincts that guided him after he finished changing, he might've been something like a newborn pup. He was in a way, once he was fully changed and his body was no longer his own.

Ambrose's eyes gleamed one final time before they entirely disappeared behind those of the wolf. The wolf stretched out as far as he could, hearing the crack and pop of his bones and feeling the residual ache from the transformation. He circled around a bit in his confinement, teeth snapping at the bars but getting nowhere and eventually stopping. There was no point, the wolf told himself, to do harm to himself because he could eventually get out. He could! He truly was like a newborn pup, anxious to play, as it were.

If what had happened to the cows his first time out had been any indication of the type of play he preferred. It wasn't his fault the cows didn't understand that if they didn't hide properly he'd make a meal of their tasty flesh ( though some had truly been a bit too fatty for his tastes, how a cow managed that in a sandy area was beyond the wolf's thinking ). Instead, the wolf stretched out upon some hay that been put in for him to rest upon. He rolled about in it on his back, continuing to stretch out and ease the ache in his muscles, willing it to leave so that he could properly enjoy himself.

In a way, there were two parts to the wolf. There was the animal and there was Ambrose, both within the same mind and not working together. The wolf was in charge as it were, Ambrose sitting back in his own mind and letting the wolf do as it pleased.

... and the wolf knew that Ambrose was scared of him, as much as he was angry at him for invading what he considered his. The wolf, however, considered Ambrose to be very silly ( to put it lightly ), because he needed to realize that his body was no longer his own -- they shared it now. There was no way that he'd be without him ever again and the wolf wondered if Ambrose would ever realize that he had all ways been a part of him. That he had all ways been with him, the wolf was merely here in a stronger form now, truly revealing himself.

But he was here all along, all the same. The wolf was Ambrose's backbone, his strength, and the quiet power that gave him the ability to go on despite it all. The wolf was every bit a part of him, but Ambrose did not realize it and the wolf wondered if the young man would take notice of that fact. It would save him a world of trouble if he could. Snorting, the wolf shook his head and closed his eyes, head resting on his crossed paws.

No, if Ambrose had never noticed his presence in the first place, why would he recognize it now that it was that much more obvious? If anything, Ambrose felt overwhelmed and conquered by a force that he saw as invading his own body, but was really just another part of himself.

If only, if only ... The wolf let out a huff of air and rolled onto his back, paws kicking in the air with his boredom. He wanted out of this cage, but the faint feeling of fear from the more human side of him told him that it likely wouldn't happen. He'd have to sleep or keep himself amused until he changed back, unless he wanted to succumb to gnawing on hay out of boredom and getting it stuck between his teeth was not fun. Cracking open one eye and an ear twitching to see if he heard anybody. He figured sleep it would have to be it considering there was no forth coming sound of footsteps, no pretty young thing to distract the wolf.

So when Ambrose changed back from wolf to man the next day, he hardly remembered any of the thoughts that the wolf had. The only thing he could be grateful of was that another pair of his clothing had not been ruined and that the taste of blood was not on his tongue and he could not explain it.

Except he could not explain the thought that raced across his mind as he forced himself to eat his raw meal.

There is a beast within your skin and there all ways has been.

Ambrose nearly choked on his food, quickly shoving the thought away. There was beast beneath his skin, but it had not all ways been there. He refused to believe it, refused to believe what the rest of his mind was whispering to him.

What the wolf was whispering to him. Since when had things ever been that simple? It wasn't and that was that.

Ambrose © Arania; Story © Wren Stewart 2005.