This sketch is a Patreon reward I received from Kekswolf. Because of the subject matter, when I saw it, I figured it would work as a way to detail some of Shane's early life as a werewolf.

Described below is what I posted on DA with this submission.

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Shane transformed fully for the first time at age 14; every time before, he would only grow a pelt, a short snout, his claws, pads, tail, pointed ears and fangs, and had to wait for his father to eat his fill of the meat he'd prepared for both of them before he could have any. Michael, his father, would get slabs big enough to feed both him and Shane from a friend who had a steady source of animals.

The day that Shane first truly transformed, he was sent home from school early due to suddenly feeling strained and weak. Unsure of what was going on, his mother got his father home early as well, and as night approached, Shane's first true shift happened.

That same night, the hunger that occurs to all werewolves during the full moon hit him early, and he snuck out of the house to find something to feed on. After claiming two animals and hauling his kills to a safe spot, he gorged himself on both of them for nearly an hour before how tired he still was from the shift won over and put him to sleep.

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The feeling of his head and shoulder being nudged were the first things Shane felt as he woke. He could just make out the hint of blue in the sky through his water-soaked eyes, and then the rest of one of his kills.

Then came his father's voice as he was nudged again. "Shane. Wake up."

Shane blinked twice before his eyes cleared. The slight tilt up of his head met with his father's unblinking, disappointed looking, stare; he was standing almost directly over him. Shane glanced around once more without a word as his thoughts returned to the scents of his meal and the area around him.

"Shane, c'mon." The light growls he could make out after his father's words sounded in line with quickened breathing. As he started hearing a quicker heartbeat, his father spoke again. "Let's go."

The question Shane wanted to ask remained in his head until he got himself held up by his arms and his father was standing besides him instead of over him. "What time is it?"

"When I went looking for you, almost 4:30." The answer shot adrenaline into Shane's blood and he again glanced at his kills. "Leave them. They're going bad. Come on." Shane got onto his hind paws within seconds, one free arm held under his swollen stomach, before his father followed suit. Twice during the long walk home, he dropped back to all fours, juggling both regret and satisfaction in his head the whole way.