The Dance of Wolves

Most of us connect with our wolf around 14, just a couple of years before our first shift when our wolf is strong enough and mature enough to fully manifest. I connected with mine at 13. She made herself known at the most inconvenient time--high school, more specifically, during English class.

Instead of paying attention to my teacher, I was staring at the girl sitting one desk over and up from mine and squirming in my seat.

Jordan matured a little earlier than the other girls and I could make out the swell of her breasts even under the baggy sweater she wore.

I finally tore my eyes away and looked out the window instead. It’s easy to get distracted by all the beauty that is British Columbia. Pure lakes, lush forests with varying hues of green, breathtaking hills, and a fortified packhouse built into the side of a mountain for camouflage. I can see it in the distance because I know what to look for with my superhuman sight. The packhouse is made of giant stone blocks covered by ivy, like a castle in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a landscaped garden maze...

Well, normally it would’ve been easy to distract myself with the view, but even the view didn’t do it for me that day.

I asked to be excused from class to go to the bathroom and relieve myself from a hard-on that would not go away on its own, when a voice scolded me for objectifying females. I didn’t recognize the voice. I was startled and looked under the stalls as if feet could tell me who it was.

But...I was alone in the bathroom.

Still, this voice kept on bitching at me from nowhere and everywhere. I finally realized it was my wolf.

She was my wolf.

Like a frog with hiccups, I choked out the most nonsensical question out loud, “Er, who are you?”

“Alma, I’m Alma.”

“I’m, uh, I’m Aksal.”

Some of the initial shock wore off and I internalized the next question--“You do know I’m male, right? They told us in health class that boys tend to uh, get an erection for little to no reason because of hormones in puberty. I didn’t mean to stare at Jordan.” I explained. “I could have easily been staring at the Alpha’s son, Joshua.”

Despite his being an arrogant, aloof jerk, Joshua was my benchmark for manhood. Not satisfied with just blessing him with good looks, Mother Nature helped him shoot up to 5′9" over the summer and made his frame fill out with muscle in bulk. His hoarse voice had already deepened into a rich bass. I didn’t just appreciate his looks. I’ve fantasized about being with him sexually and jerked off to my imagination at home alone. “Anyway, it was getting uncomfortable so I came in here to get off.” I had already gone limp from the shock of meeting my wolf so I zipped myself up.

“Alma, there has to be some mistake, right? How is it that I’ve been paired with a she-wolf?”

“I...don’t know either,” she thought back to me.

“And, dear goddess, what’s gonna happen when I shift?”

This time, it was a rhetorical question that I didn’t expect an answer to, but she gave me one.

“You’ll shift into a strong, beautiful she-wolf, of course.”

Great. My day started off with a boner that wouldn’t go away and ended with a massive headache. Neither head could catch a break.