Synopsis: Patrick is a university student working towards his art degree and experiences many of the usual rigors of student life: completing tests, working on projects, experiencing mysterious time lapses for days at a time. Wait, what about that last one? On a trek to clear his head in the woods surrounding his school's campus one day Patrick finds the friendly wolf Zeydaan and discovers his unique connection with the creature. With this new knowledge comes a cascade of changes that will alter his life forever.

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The Beast of Deepwood (Pt.1)

by K9Lupus

“If I have to do another two-point perspective piece, I'm going to actually throw up. It's supposed to be Advanced Art Techniques, and there's nothing advanced about going over the same theory I've had a million times before!” Patrick said with his forehead plastered onto his desk. With a wandering hand, he reached for the half-empty party-size bag of chips for another fresh handful. The frequent crunch helped cover the slight, unerring creek of the wobbly ceiling fan above. Piles of scattered assignments and class notes were strewn about his dorm room interlaced between small nests of discarded clothes. How he managed to find anything with his current organization system, or more accurately lack thereof, baffled the few friends who would come to occasionally check on Patrick.

The big portfolio presentation was tomorrow, and yet he couldn't bring himself to focus on finalizing his presentation order, let alone titles for some of his pieces. Patrick's thoughts kept drifting away to other interests. He thought of various sounds and smells: the quiet babble of coursing water, the crunch of leaves underfoot, or the scent of pine carried across a drifting warm breeze. He delved deeper into this sensory daydream, imagining himself far from his worries. Then the daydream shifted, Patrick watching the landscape speed by while his body ran faster and faster, more quickly than he ever had in his whole life as he weaved back and forth between the trees until he voiced a glorious outcry that trilled up into the distinct haunting melody of a wolf's howl.

Patrick nearly slipped out of his seat, pulled away from his impromptu imagining as he reflexively steadied himself with his hands. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, his muscles tight with fatigue as if he had physically run the same distance he envisioned in his mind. He allowed his head once more to fall forward onto the cool wood of his desk.

“Maybe a quick walk around will get me back on track.” he muttered as he searched his room for a sweater to throw on.

The young man located a suitable tan jacket and jeans his mother had purchased for him last year. She had hoped it would help in his adjustment away at school, even though he repeatedly tried to assure her he had plenty to bring with him already. Despite his requests, she had also made a point to buy them a size too large, leaving them drooping over his tall and lanky frame. Thankfully, he gave adorning the tacky assemblage little thought. It wouldn't matter much where he planned to go. He gave a quick brushing of his jet-black hair back from where it hung partway down towards his eyes and grabbed his keys to head out the door.

Patrick appreciated that Deepwood University had made an effort to have its campus be integrated with the surrounding forested public lands nearby. Its many opportunities for outdoor excursions and skill-building had been one of the primary draws for Patrick in applying there to begin with, and to find out that he had been accepted last year was a thrill beyond measure. Now the novelty and elation had worn off, and Patrick was firmly settled into the term-by-term grind of his classes.

Right now the campus looked vacant and devoid of life with most of the other students wrapping up their class before lunch. He wasn't expecting anyone to wave or give a friendly shout in his direction. Patrick kept primarily to himself at school, avoiding the larger party scenes and social events on campus. He sat in the back of his classes. He answered questions only when needed. He didn't bother others. They didn't bother him, and he told himself that he liked it best that way. With his Ancient Cultures history course not until later that afternoon, Patrick was free to wander up to his favorite trail system for a while.

Patrick frequently visited this area when overwhelmed with the rigors of student life: a single-minded focus on graduation, many paths with too many choices, and an uncertain future to inherit afterward. That feeling had surfaced more often lately than he cared to admit, but instead of share what was going on with others Patrick would rather let those energies dissipate away into the forest until it was needed once more.

Further and further he ventured away from the school campus, each step methodical and mindless, nearly robotic or as if compelled by a powerful, inner force directing him. It wasn't long before he was back within the inviting cloak of the spruce, pine, and oak trees that had now grown familiar to him. All at once the tension he had been carrying in his body faded, and he silently praised himself for his decision to treat himself to this break. He deserved it.

The warming spring temperatures were in full effect today, and Patrick soon wrapped the jacket he had brought with him around his waist as he explored further back onto the trails. Most students were content to go through the preliminary loop that would divert back towards the main campus, but Patrick had spent a great deal of time exploring much of the many miles of trails extending far beyond that.

After some time, Patrick's awareness had shifted away from his concerns waiting for him back in his dorm room and towards the lively world around him. His senses awakened, and his thoughts slowed. A presence of mind allowed him to silently observe a fraction of the grand process governing all life. He listened to the call of songbirds above him and mapped out the natural curves of the long, dirt trail winding further up the mountainside. Patrick paused beneath the shade of one of the larger trees and caught a flicker of movement of the corner of his eye. He spun around to see no other than Zeydaan watching him atop a clump of large boulders, the creature still and stoic in the sunshine.

He had so named the wolf because of its regal, mighty appearance, like a reclusive Celtic ruler whose dominion was this stretch of wild expanse on the border of the greater human world. His coat was a mix of various grays with a darker cape and a light, creamy-colored belly. His eyes were a warm, mahogany color, unusual for wolves, but Patrick thought it suited his unique character. The beast's large, shaggy head looked in his direction, paying him as much attention as browsing through a second-hand goods store and finding an intriguing novelty item. Patrick had seen the wolf several times now, but had never heard report of it in the local paper or through talk of the other students. Patrick liked to think that Zeydaan only came out for him when no one else would.

From his ample observations of the wolf in the past, Patrick understood its unspoken message as he watched it sink its chest low against the rock in a lazy stretch.

You again? Nothing to worry about here. I'll be on my way.

And true to his usual pattern Zeydaan circled around the distant stand of trees until he disappeared entirely behind the sloped end of the hillside in the distance.

“Wait, don't go!” Patrick cried out from his place among the dirt and leaves. It was the first time he had ever called out to the animal. When he had first encountered him he had been too afraid, and on subsequent sightings he feared he would scare him off. Now the opposite was true. He had been lonely for long enough and hazarded the chance to invite him in. To reach out to the wild in the hopes it would answer back.

And answer it did.

Instead of silence, Patrick heard the wolf tilt its head back and loose a boisterous howl that rang out in every direction. The sound was loud and visceral, tangible and all-encompassing, with Patrick experiencing the vibrations as if they ricocheted through his own skin.

The young man's heart thrummed faster and hard in his chest, as it had during his daydream earlier. His breath grew labored and sweat beaded down the edge of his brow. He looked down to see thin wisps of hair quickly spreading across the tops of his hands and arms. The hairs were gray, a familiar color similar to those of the wolf named Zeydaan. A pinching at the back of his jeans prompted Patrick to free the short, bare mass of a developing tail. Discomfort spread down to his feet, frantically kicking off his shoes to reveal widening, thickening toes, the blunted beginnings of dark claws tearing through the fabric of his socks and rending them asunder. Patrick's eyes snapped open, the bases of his ears faintly twitching as they heard the sound of human laughter further down the trail.

No one should be here. They can't see me like this.

Alarm coursed through his body and fueled by burgeoning wolven instinct, Patrick dropped down onto all-fours and leaped forward, his jacket flinging off of him as he loped at a steady pace further down the trail. He urged his body faster still and was reminded of his daydream from earlier, his body moving as one seamless, coordinated machine until he diverted off the path to crash into some bushes to stay safely hidden. When he finally stopped his tongue hung forward in an off-pant, the abrasive human sounds from the wandering pair growing louder, then ceasing all together. The sounds resumed again some time after, getting loudest still until gradually quieting back into silence as they passed. Once certain they had left, Patrick carefully stood, stumbling forward as his transformation continued its course at full-speed through his body, the budding claws on his hand catching at the side of a low, slippery branch and leaving small furrows in his wake.

He landed in front of a shallow offset from a small creek, the water still and reflective with the dancing shadows of the canopy performing on the liquid stage. The sight before him shook Patrick to his core. His face was distorted and alien, baring a hearty mix of human and lupine features. The projected beginnings of a broad muzzle stretched his face and ended in a flared, darkened nose. His eyes were wildfires, the same deep crimson color he had seen Zeydaan carry. Patrick tentatively brought his hands to his face, the odd texture of the roughened pads on his palms unnerving him. He could not refute the unmistakable, though unfathomable reality of what had transpired and what was still occurring. The wolf, a creature long-sleeping in his spirit was now startlingly awake.

Naming his situation brought a cool calmness to the event. The rush of air of Patrick's next breath filled the expanded barrel of his altered chest, and strengthening muscles at the base of his ears tilted them partway back. Patrick pressed his hand down into the water, feeling the cool splash rise up and over into the gray fur of his hand. With a toothy grin Patrick started to laugh. Then it all came back to him.

It wasn't the first time his transformation had transpired. This was only the first time he could remember it. Zeydaan wasn't ever really there. It was him meeting himself, over and over again he realized. Patrick's changes into this wolf-like form must have been layered by his memory to protect him from the overwhelming truth. Now the mysterious lapses in time could be accounted for. How silly had he looked going to some of his professors and wondering how he had missed the last lectures or meeting up with friends. He could recall coming out to these places and returning from them, but his recollection of his time spent was always hazy at best.

To call out to the wolf this time may have tripped the mental circuit breaker housed within his mind. Armed with these new memories, Patrick experienced a new disorienting sensation. The first time he had willed his body into this form, he had been racked with pain beyond measure. He felt the ache of his stretching ligaments and shifting bones beneath his skin. He experienced the swelling and churning of his insides. The feelings were borne from an ancient human place, a wariness towards the unknown geared towards his survival, but now that he knew himself the complete opposite was true. Staying human was his transformed state. To exchange his fur back for his bare skin and dulled senses, that was a mournful loss he didn't wish to experience again. That was why he stayed out here like this, sometimes for several days. It would be easy now to welcome the change wholeheartedly, encouraging it further and seeing where the limit truly lay.

“Why should I even bother going back?” he said as his gray and creamy-colored fur filled in thickening clumps across his body and his torso stretched, pulling him up onto his hands and feet to relieve the subtle ache forming within his hips. Moving helped relax his tense muscles, and he wandered for some time through the forest until an interesting scent caught his attention. He pressed through a thickened bush, shaking off the extra twigs from his fur to see the tan jacket he had brought with him onto the trail, caked with dirt and mud from his scuttle away from the passersby. Zeydaan sniffed at the material and caught the faintest scent of his parents on it still. He thought then of his family, and their efforts to try and care for him. They missed the mark often; they tried to impose their ideas on him, but as he considered their actions more and more he came to one firm conclusion.

At least they tried.

They were as close to a pack as Zeydaan could hope to have, and perhaps there was still time to find a way to resolve this newly discovered identity with them. Zeydaan focused on the image of a time before this, before becoming a wolf, and saw himself wandering a large mall with his parents, pointing out different objects of interest in the windowsills. He remembered the fond memories of that time and the thought helped ground him in the purpose of his humanity. There was reason to go back. Gradually the changes began to ease: his paw-like appendages rearranging themselves closer to human proportions, his thick, shaggy coat vanishing to only a dark, furry mane trailing down his neck and back, and his tail shortened to a mere fleshy nub at the end of his spine. Zeydaan shakily stood, his wolfish appearance having substantially abated to a faint glimmer of what it had been only minutes before. With his eyes on the trail, he began his trek back towards school to plan his next steps.

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Night was quickly approaching by the time Zeydaan reached campus again. Although it was empty as it had been when he had departed, he was mindful to traverse within the encroaching shadows as much as able to disguise the echoes of his other form he still carried with him. Zeydaan heard the heavy bass of a guitar, screaming voices, and shining lights from the quad in the distance.

The concert was supposed to be for Friday. Does that mean I was out there for almost a whole week?!

With a quick dash, he left the security of the tree-lined path and hurriedly opened the entrance to his dormitory suite, accidentally slamming the door shut behind him. He froze. No one else appeared to be here.

They must all be at the concert.

Zeydaan's claws were silent on the rubber lining of the steps leading up to his room, although he didn't ease until he was nestled inside with the door locked behind him. Zeydaan slumped against the door to the ground, then yelped rubbing the top of his aching tail. Zeydaan noticed a small pile of letters and notes having been slipped under his door. Some looked to be delivered homework assignments on request from his professors. One looked to be a “Get Well Soon” card. The last, plastered with the red seal of Deepwood University was a summons to the councilor's office for “A Meeting to Discuss Excessive Unexcused Absences”. All matters for another time. Right now the only thing Zeydaan wanted to do was sleep. The exhausted wolf-boy crumpled forward onto his arms, then directed his gaze towards his standing mirror. Deep crimson shards pierced through the usual light-blue of his eyes.

I'm still not all the way back. It's never been like this before. Then again, I couldn't even remember me changing into a...wolf before now. What if giving in again...is the end? No more do-overs. Then what? I stay as a wolf? Maybe that would be easiest. I could go back and not worry about anything anymore. Just focus on living a good life. Animals have a good life right? I could have a good life...

Zeydaan felt a renewed, rising heat coursing through his body once more, his lapsing thoughts of the forest and a wild life inadvertently reinvigorating his changes. A dull, throbbing ache swelled between his shoulder blades until they popped twice, adjusting their position to partway at his sides. Fur began to sprout again in sparse patches across his limbs and face, his tail lengthening further and further away from his body with each additional vertebra formed. These changes were unlike those he had experienced back on the trails. They hurt. A lot. It took all of Zeydaan's willpower to keep from yelling out as he had that first time. If he completely changed here then he wasn't sure what would happen.

“Something's wrong...It's not supposed to be like this.” Zeydaan mumbled to himself while hunched forward.

His body doubled over as the sudden cracks and pulls heralding his transformation washed over him. His hands and feet widened once more into broad, paw-like shapes in tandem with the quiet lurch of his chest barreling out to accommodate his growing lungs. He growled, baring lengthening fangs as he desperately fought back against the change as he had done that first time, but his instincts were screaming for him to escape back to the forest. To escape back to his new home where he belonged.

He rolled over to his side to see his phone laying up a few inches away from him. Who could he call? Who could he dare hope to trust with his secret? There was only one person Zeydaan could fathom trusting enough right now.

Gritting his teeth as his pelvis continued to shift and pop his hips back into their new position, Zeydaan reached a clawed, padded finger over to unlock his screen and began to dial.

“Please pick up. Please...” He snarled between labored breaths. “...pick...up.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

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Commissioned short story for ! Part 2 will be soon to follow for Patrick/Zeydaan's adventure into understanding their newfound wolven nature. Who would you be calling on if you were suddenly transforming at an inconvenient time/space? Let me know in the comments below!

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