Your skin torn to fur,
Your legs buckling,
Crunch of the bones
A crushing pain ripples through your body.
You want to let out the roar scratching at your throat
But you know, not now.
Wait till the trees are rushing past you.
Finally you shred the last pieces of human.
Your eyes burn amber, a pentagram in your sights.
Let me go, you say, the moon tells you to wait.
Growling in displeasure, you stretch you lean muscles.
Beautiful even in the pelt, your legs extend and you make for the forest.
The night is young and it is calling for you.
Answer back.
You do, howling in all your precious glory.
Claws scratching at the ground, you gain speed.
You draw alongside the pack.
They welcome you with pushes and shoves.
Solace at last.
You are lycanthrope.
You are homo lupus.
You are werewolf.
