Awoo

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Howling Curses was not a social kin. Rarely did he take others in, and when he did, he tended to find himself awkward and embarrassed. Somehow he managed to have children. He raised him the best he could, and still felt pride in the bucks and does they grew into.

Maybe from there he had grown a soft spot for small, helpless things that had a little bit of spunk to them.

When he had first found the gray, whimpering pup that grew into Trouble, he tried his best to get the wolf to sod off. But it followed him for hours on end, and after he snapped at it enough times, it snapped back.

That made him blink in surprise instead of going for his throat.

He grumbled that it was trouble, and it nestled into his flank that night, as if knowing it had won the fight.

The wolf grew into a hunter and stayed by his side.

And now, when he awoke one morning, the storm-colored wolf was there once more. And at eye level.

As he tried to speak, he could not find the ability to do so. Instead, he grunted and growled. More so than usual. This was not the first time he dreamed of being a wolf, but it was the first time a wolf he recognized was there.

He tried to shrug it off, to go from his den space to his larger territory to see what mirrored the waking world, but Trouble kept jumping in his path. Cutting him off.

He gleaned, without words, that it wished to challenge him.

To show him that it truly was no longer a pup. Now, they were on even ground. And it would be worthy.

Fine, he decided. He bit at its neck as it stood proud to show that he wasn't going to hold back.

The gray wolf jumped away from his larger, brown flanks. It went on the back-foot as he tried to bite at its neck, side, and heels. But it was faster than he. Graceful, even.

He wasn't one who knew how to teach such a thing.

That moment of thought was enough to give it an opening, and it nipped his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. He yelped in response, then dove at its neck.

The two fell into a tussle. He could not keep track of every which way they bit and tore at each other, but eventually they let go and got up and began to circle.

He felt himself panting, a bit ragged. And Trouble looked a bit worse for wear.

His otherwise guarded chest hurt. He knew he was going too hard on the wolf. It fought well, but they wasted their energy on each other when they could hunt together.

Despite all his pride, he showed his neck in yield.

He felt the other wolf's breath on his neck

and then his yellow eyes opened.

Howling Curses looked down to see the wolf curled up next to him, breathing slow in sleep. A foxbun nuzzled deeper into the predator's flanks.

He chuckled. Yes, today they would hunt.

For now, he would like a little more rest for them both.[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgright]

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A long, mourning howl brought the slumbering kiokote to his senses.

He stood and shook himself off, feeling different.

As he lumbered out of his den, he looked down. No hooves, only paws.

Not for the first time.

He would ask why he dreamed so often of being a wolf, but he likely wouldn't have an answer. He kept so little company that he couldn't get a response if he wanted one.

A few of his usual companions seemed to be missing. Prey and Trouble did not seem about. No matter. Prey was smart, for what it was; Trouble either would come home or it wouldn't. He couldn't get hung up on worrying about such a well-named creature.

Instead, another wolf came into view. Gray much like Trouble, but with what seemed like light pouring through the creature.

The younger of the two wolves that stayed by his side, and the stranger of them. A pup that followed Trouble home one day. A wolf that was not quite there; something of a ghost, he would say. He ended up calling it Hollow. Maybe out of superstition, or because he didn't understand it very well. And Howling Curses liked to think he understood wolves pretty well.

Like always, it looked at him and did not use much body language. Trouble, comparatively, was pretty easy to read for a wolf. And Trouble could be considered...warmer, in nature. It didn't eat Prey, which already said a lot.

But this time, he could understand what Hollow wished. It wanted to run. To race. It knew what he was, and maybe they would be well-matched for once. A wolf's speed and a kiokote's were very different.

It seemed to not think that things were usually fair. But now? Now it had a chance.

Howling Curses cocked his head. What was with his wolves and trying to prove themselves to him? But fine. Not like there seemed to be much else to do in this dream.

So off they went. They ducked under and around trees. Howling Curses swerved around deeper pools of water while Hollow gracefully seemed to run over them.

He bit through the pain of brambles tearing at his fur. He however embraced the feeling of wind on his flanks.

The swamp turned into the rolling hills of his foalhood. The grasslands of the kiokote that he did not ever expect to see again.

Hollow came up near him, panting in time with his own heaving chest.

It seemed curious at the scenery. A wolf that only knew trees and birdcall wouldn't know what to make of this.

But the breeze was nice, and the morning seemed young still.

He began to run, to lead, to show. If one of his wolves wished to see what he rarely got to share, who was he to stop it?

It was just a shame that when the true morning came, he would find himself kicking at the air and unsure if these moments meant anything to anyone other them himself.[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgright]

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Clean Cut always gave off an air of composure. Calm, level-headed. Even when his mother would scream at him and ram her head into trees to prove a point or make the pain stop. Or when his heart beat so hard he thought it would burst out his chest as he realized that there was a doe he loved, who he wasn't sure if he could tell because, again, he might explode. And he didn't want her to deal with whatever came from that.

The gray wolf he came across one day tried to seem intimidating, but it was alone, and scared, and young. As it came upon Clean Cut, it tried its best to growl, posture, threaten. It really did. But he was a tall kimeti with big, threatening horns. It backed down not long after he continued to stare at it as if it was nothing but a strange bug.

Clean Cut, in actuality, had been terrified. Within another moment, he might have finally run for the first time he could remember.

But, the wolf yielded first, to everyone's relief. So, taking pity, he took the wolf with him, and named it Cabbage not long after. Fitting, he thought, for the flecks of green in its fur. That and being rather...easy to work with, all things considered. A little cabbage, his wolf was.

And his wolf was a big baby, in every way Clean Cut usually was not.

So it was funny when one morning, he awoke, stretched, and found that he had paws instead of hooves. He stood and immediately whined.

Clean Cut never made such a noise in his life.

Though he was very confused, and for the first time did not know how to get himself under control.

He did not feel the weight of totoma horns, he did not stand as tall.

Worst of all, he couldn't find Cold Dawn. When he called for her, he let out a low howl, which he cut off shortly in utter bafflement at his own self.

Cabbage, however, bounded over in a blur of gray. It wagged its tail, absolutely elated at this turn of events.

Clean Cut huffed back in turn. He didn't want to be a wolf! He had a hard enough time being half totoma!

But Cabbage wanted to play and frolic and hunt.

Clean Cut stepped past the other wolf. He would rather wake up from whatever dream this was, or had to be. He knew there was magic in the swamp, he knew there were kin capable of shapeshifting. He had met them. But...it didn't happen like this, right? He didn't feel chosen by the swamp. And he didn't hear about kin just turning into animals overnight.

He whined some more. He even...began to pout.

Cabbage nudged him at the shoulder. Was it laughing at him?

Clean Cut barked. Cabbage barked back, then bounded away, daring him to follow.

The once-kimeti sight. Fine. He supposed he could let loose, for once.

He dashed and chased, he ran himself ragged. His pet seemed happy, and that helped his mood some.

But even so, when he went to lie down, he hoped he would see the world he knew again once he opened his eyes again....[imgright]https://matope-swamp.com/images/blue/cl ... uncert.png[/imgright]