Ch.12
I awoke to the sound of my mom’s voice.
“Wake up… Wake up, Lena…”
I opened my eyes, squinting at the dashboard clock. It was 9:13.
“Finally. You’re awake!,” she exclaimed, “I swear, you could sleep through the apocalypse.”
I chuckled.
“C’mon, get up! You don’t want to miss your… training, do you?”
“What trai- Oh!” I sat up, excited.
“Yes, that training. Like we were saying before, we’re not all going to be able to fit in the truck, so we’re gonna have to try to sleep the old fashioned way.
“Won’t that be cold, though?”
Garry walked up, “No. That’s what fur’s for. Besides, we came all the way here for a reason, you know.
This is a hiding house.”
“A hiding house?”
Mom spoke up, “It’s a place that all werewolves can hide from the hunters,” she paused, “Hunters being the men who were trying to kill you.”
“Oh. Ok.”
“C’mon, get out of the car, we have to hurry.”
I pressed the release button on the seat belt and pulled it off of me, maneuvering out of the door, and landing on soft dirt.
Looking around me, I saw lots of trees and a narrow path that cut through them.
I wondered how the truck had fit through the trees, but after looking around, I realized the path was not as wild as I thought.
I turned around, hearing the sound of tools, and walked around the back of the Tahoe to see what it was.
It was my dad, switching out the license plate.
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
“Taking precautions.”
“Oh.”
Mom pushed me forward, down the path to a small circular piece of carpet that I realized always used to be rolled up in the back of the truck.
So that’s what it was for!!
Amy was sitting on it, but there was still plenty of room, considering that the carpet was six feet wide.
I sat next to her, wondering if they had taught her to have a mental conversation yet.
Garry walked up with Mr. and Mrs. Samson and they all stood next to my mom.
I wondered when my dad would be here.
Suddenly, Mr. Samson spoke up, “Amy, since Lena’s dad isn’t here yet, you’ll have to go first.”
Amy looked at me anxiously, “I can’t. I’m scared!”
“Me too, but we can do it. I know we can.”
Mr. Samson butted in, “Now, all you have to do is make a strong mental decision to be a wolf.
You have to tell yourself that you want to be a wolf.
You pick the words that you would like to think, and then try it.
Make sure that you’re all for it.”
Amy closed her eyes, thinking. She was clearly trying to fight off any fears.
“You can do it!” I whispered.
My dad walked through the bushes, ”Amy, you have to be all in. Chuck, why don‘t you show your daughter?”
“Good idea.” Mr. Samson replied.
He got on his hands and knees on the carpet in front of Amy, looking completely relaxed, and began to change.
It went faster than I imagined it would be, only taking a mere seventeen seconds.
I watched his nose and mouth stretch, extending into a muzzle. Tongue flattening, and stretching to help cool off his body.
His muscles moved and shifted, fingers shrinking, nails extending and thickening. Thumb disappearing into his arm, and dew claws appeared farther up.
Fur began to sprout, and his ears moved up on his head as they became wider and taller, looking much pointier than they used to be.
His spine bent in an uncomfortable looking way, and the seat of his pants looked like it was more filled.
His legs began to twist in different ways until they became totally different looking appendages.
I could see his jeans, mostly unfilled except for the top few feet as they became full of fur where his legs were.
His shirt had already begun to stretch where the fur was abundant, and his shoulders became closer to his spine, making his upper arms appear shorter.
I couldn’t see his feet, but I could imagine that they didn’t even look remotely like what they used to.
He had completely changed his appearance from human to wolf in seventeen seconds.
Mrs. Samson stepped on the legs of his pants, and he wriggled out of them.
Mrs. Samson pulled off his shirt, and he lay down, panting on the front of the carpet.
Amy stared at him, and looked even more anxious.
“Don’t worry, Amy. Didn’t you see? It didn’t even look like it hurt. He never winced even once.”
“Thanks.” she said, looking relieved.
“Your turn,” Mrs. Samson said, looking excitedly at Amy.
Amy closed her eyes again. Looking completely relaxed, she got on her hands and knees.
I looked away, wanting to surprise myself.
When I heard the cheers of Garry and our parents, I looked over at her.
She looked about as black as her father, but had a lighter coat, because, if I looked close enough, I could see some reddish brown fur.
I stepped on her pants, and then held her shirt and bra as she backed out of them.
Amy was looking herself over excitedly.
“Go on, try to walk.” Mrs. Samson encouraged her.
Mr. Samson, who had been barking with cheer, sat up, and watched as Amy tried to walk, admiring every step.
She was a little wobbly, but after a few minutes, she looked like she had been walking on all fours her whole life. She barked cheerfully.
“Try out the tail.” I said.
She looked like she didn’t even have to try.
In a few seconds, she was wagging her tail like a pro.
“Lena, I think it’s your turn,” My dad said, “Do you need another demonstration?”
I shook my head no.
I had paid close attention to what I had to do.
Closing my eyes, I began to think to myself, making a mental conversation with myself and relaxing, I thought, “I want to be a wolf.”
My skin began to tingle, and it surprised me so much that I almost fell over, but I regained my balance.
Mr. Samson had made it look easy, but the truth was, it hurt.
The moment the fur began to sprout, so did my tail, and it hurt as bad as sitting on needles.
Not to mention the bones in my arms and legs moving.
My head felt like it had a really tight ponytail in it.
The fur itched when it came through my skin, and by the time the change was over, I had fallen onto my side.
Amy was barking, excitedly, and bouncing around, but the grownups, were silent, with excited looks on their faces.
Garry shrugged, and I realized that they were having a mental conversation.
I looked down at my han- paws, and saw that they were snow white.