(no subject)

Ryan started walking into the woods a few hours before sunset. He kept in mind what Wells had said about it getting ‘really weird’ the deeper you went, but he wanted to get deep enough that he could no longer see, hear, or smell anything or anyone from the bar.

He’s trying not to think of anything that might upset him right now.

Andrew three years Gruinard Wells gone three years

Instead he’s just focusing on breathing, on building up control for when the moon rises.

If he can only keep calm he thinks he might be able to keep control. Or at least not black out. The open space is helping. A lot.

There are no walls to close in on him.
 
The sun is just starting to set when he finally stops and begins to disrobe. He was holding off because, well, really, who wants to be running around the winter woods stark naked? But the sun’s going down now and very soon that isn’t going to matter.

 calm control calm control calm control calm control calm control

 He shakes the snow off a bush and hangs his clothes on it, putting his boots on the ground beneath. The moon is rising and he can feel it in his gut because it’s all starting to twist and rearrange itself for the new shape. He collapses into the snow and this time his claws are able to dig into the ground.  He shudders gritting his teeth _{too sharp too long} and groaning.

 Here it comes, don’t fight, but don’t give in. Not this time.

 On the next shudder Ryan’s gone, leaving the wolf in his place. Its ears flick back and forth a moment, orientating itself. This…is not the same as last night. This is better. This is much better.

 There are no moving walls.

 Outside is good.

It climbs to its feet, head rising a good seven and a half feet above the ground. It hears humans in the distance, and turns to go in that direction. _{not that way.} It hesitates a moment, before taking another step. not that way, dammit It gives a whine. It’s hungry and is about to keep going when a burnt fur smell catches its nose.

 A prey smell.

 The wolf snaps its head around tracing the scent back to its source. The demon rabbit breaks from its cover giving the wolf a short chase before it catches it.

 This tastes nasty. Much worse than the last meat it ate. doesn’t matter, it’s all you’re getting  

 …what last meat?

 It thinks, swallowing some bunny. The meat from the den under the square tree. Before it hunted the blond one that shoved the long piece of metal in it. That meat was much better. It had wanted to eat the blonde one, too, because he was fresher.

bodies hanging from meat hooks in black unmarked BDU's

 oh God, no. NO. those were…

 

He doesn’t remember the rest of the night.