Andrew smiled as he eyed the beast sleeping before him. Its powerful chest rose and fell like the ocean tides as it lay still as a rock. It appeared similar to a gray wolf, with a muzzle laced with dagger like teeth, a thick gray pelt of insulating fur, and a thick fluffy tail. However, there were several differences between the animal and the creature sleeping before him. Clawed hands with thumbs and a digitrade stance marked it as something not produced by nature, but a force far more supernatural. Andrew's goal was to discover what that force was.

They had laughed at him back in town when he insisted that werewolves existed, and vowing to find proof only made them erupt further into hysterics. One old man in particular, a rusty redneck with more wrinkles than hair and eyes stuck in a permanent squint, seemed particularly amused at Andrew's ambitions.

"Yer worse than that dern tv crew who came here looking for bigfoot!" he rasped, face stretched into a toothless grin, hand clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels. "Walkin' off into the woods to get ripped to pieces by a real wolf! Idiots, the whole lot of ye!" Andrew still remembered the snide remarks and laughter from the fellow drunks in the tavern as the old man turned back to his drink, roaring like a lion from laughter. Despite being the closest town to reported werewolf sighting, McLaughlin Wyoming apparently wasn't on board with the idea of wolfmen. Everywhere he went in the small town, from the dusty general store right out of an old western to the musty motel where he spent the night, he was laughed at and jeered for what the townspeople called a suicidal goose chase.

Yet after 15 days in the wilderness and over countless miles of rugged mountain terrain, the creature snoozing peacefully in this tucked away corner of the Rocky Mountains would erase all that and more once he collected the sample and brought it back to the university for study. He had been tracking this particular animal for months, using dark web postings and news reports to get a general idea of its range and hunting habits. The werewolf had to be based in this small town, it was the only civilization for miles and he needed somewhere to go once humanity returned in the morning. And despite all the challenges and setbacks, it was about to become worth it as he quietly unfastened his backpack and took out a syringe, needle tipped with pure silver. It had been made especially for this moment. Andrew resisted the urge to cry out in excitement, biting his tongue to keep from giving away his presence.

He crept along the mountain floor with the stealth of a panther, taking great caution as to not wake the beast. Suddenly, he found himself face to face with the monstrous animal, and was awestruck at just how powerful the beast appeared up close. Its paw was larger than his head, and could probably separate it from his body with one swipe of those hooked, daggerlike claws. Every inch of its perfect muscles was visible beneath the shaggy coat of fur, writhing beneath the skin like pythons itching to be released on an unsuspecting victim. It had to be at least 7 ft. tall on two paws, and was probably larger. Its pelt was the color of midnight, a mirror reflecting the full moon and stars above. He stared in awe at the mighty form for several seconds, unable to do anything but behold its supernatural beauty. Finally he came to his senses, and acknowledged the task at hand. Taking a deep breath, he drove the syringe into the furry hide of the beast.

The effects were immediate, but not the ones Andrew had hoped for. Next thing he knew, he was staring straight up at the night sky with a headache like a million hammers pounding through and around his skull. Pain shot through him , although he wasn't quite sure what part of his body was sending the signals. He wasn't sure if the stars swimming around his head were those of the night sky or from his imagination. His body felt like an elephant had decided to crush him against the rocks, taking every effort just to sit up. Mustering every ounce of energy to lift his head off the ground just made the migraine worse. But slowly, surely, his vision regained his focus and he glanced around the place where the werewolf had smacked him.

He was at least fifty yards from the point of contact, a tree stopping him from going further down the mountain. Looking up, he could see the imprint he had made in the wood and the path of broken branches that marked his descent. He groaned, fearing the damage his body must have acquired in the impact. It was a miracle he was still alive. But he would have to work with that. He'd find a way back to civilization, and then he'd-

"Holy crap man what the hell? You could've gotten yourself killed back there!" Andrew whipped his head towards the source of the voice, fear overriding the pain in his system as he saw the wolf man not 20 feet away from him and closing in rapidly. Clearly he was coming to finish him off and-wait, what did he say?

" Seriously, you're lucky I didn't use my claws. Otherwise you'd be scattered across the mountainside in dozens of little pieces." Andrew froze in both fear and confusion as the werewolf came closer, a look of concern (or as much as a wolf could look concerned) on his muzzle. He could smell the scent coming off of him, the scent of forest, Earth, and blood from his last meal. He shivered in fright as he approached him, not much else he could do with all the pain he was in. The wolf knelt down and tore off Andrew's shirt, and he nearly fainted at the sight.

Several scratch marks draped across his chest, dropping blood out onto the forest floor. It wasn't a little blood either. The wolf flashed a look of apology.

" ... Or at least I thought I didn't use my claws... but instincts can be brutal, right? " Andrew didn't respond, mute with the realization that he was about to die ,bleeding out his life in search of the mystical creature in front of him. If the wolf didn't eat him first, that is. At least he would be killed by one of the coolest and most powerful monsters known to mankind. He could only watch in pain and fascination as the wolf began to patch up his wounds with leaves and herbs he had scrounged up, licking them first to stick them together in a sort of bandage. Despite his massive handpaws he worked very delicately and, patching up the biggest wounds with dexterity that seemed impossible for hands of that size. It was a very natural treatment, but one that seemed to be working as Andrew's pain began to diminish. Finally he worked up enough strength to try and speak to him.

"A-Aren't you going to eat me?" He croaked nervously, watching him tie another homemade bandage around his arm that got cut from sharp tree branches. The Wolf threw back his head and laughed, revealing a line of sharp, wicked fangs. It only added to Andrew's unease.

"If I wanted to eat you why would I be going to all this trouble to save you?" His voice was booming, almost like a lion's roar than the sounds a wolf would make. But it also carried a genuine sense of friendship. Andrew realized he would have to trust this creature of the night, because what else could he do but play along?

"Um, Wh-what's your name?" He timidly asked, trying to make small talk. He realized he had spent his life devoted towards finding a werewolf in the wild, but had never thought about what to say if he actually met one. Fortunately, the wolf seemed to be in a cooperative mood.

" My human name is Trevor." he laughed, "but out here my identity is forged through scent. You know, like when dogs sniff each other's butts?" This brought out a laugh from Andrew, and he felt more at ease. Trevor finished bandaging his wounds and plopped down besides him, leaning against the tree with his head wrapped around his arms, staring off into space. Andrew realized this guy probably doesn't get the chance to talk to others much. He might as well be friendly.

"So, ummm, what's it like being a werewolf?" he asked, craning his neck to look Trevor in his steely green eyes. Trevor sighed and leaned back against the tree, which sagged a little under his weight.

"It's not the joyride you think it is," he spoke sadly, tuning towards Andrew, whose eyes gleamed with curiosity. "It's more curse than blessing, I tell ya. You've got this beautiful body but it comes with an uncanny desire to kill anything that moves. ... I learned that the hard way. " His eyes seemed to fill with a distant sadness, and Andrew felt a chill run down his spine. After a moment of silence Trevor continued.

"Worst part is, you can't trust anybody with the secret. Family, friends, they either treat you like a monster or stick around and get murdered when your instincts override your humanity for one minute. They don't trust me, and frankly, neither do I." he paused before continuing. " That's why I live way out here. So I don't harm anyone, and nobody harms me. Unless they're stupid enough to approach a sleeping werewolf with nothing but a flu shot." He pulled out Andrew's syringe and threw it on the ground. Andrew chuckled awkwardly, remembering the previous events. "FYI", Trevor continued, "I knew you were coming from like a mile away. I just thought you'd be smart and walk away like a normal human being. You never really had a chance." Trevor chuckled a bit, but Andrew could still sense the sadness in his glassy eyes and droopy ears. He felt guilty about what happened to Trevor, and sort of wished he could help him.

"Maybe what you need is a werewolf friend," he suggested, rubbing a hand through his back fur in a comforting manner. It felt soft and thick through his fingers, like a fur coat from a high end department store. "Somebody your own size, you know? Someone who's shared your experience, and can provide some competition in a fight." He knew his words were somewhat hollow as he had no idea where to find another werewolf, but he wanted to make Trevor feel better and didn't know what to say. Much to his surprise, however, Trevor laughed.

"That's what I was thinking. You know, I've never had one before, but I'm about to..." He winked before pointing at Andrew's chest wounds, which seemed to be healing rapidly. "It's not like I had a choice, but you kinda brought it on yourself" he shrugged guiltily as Andrew began to piece together what he meant. Werewolf attack + werewolf saliva used in treating wounds means his odds of becoming a werewolf himself were about... 100%. He could already feel his back beginning to itch as his feet began to feel tight in his boots. Trevor watched eagerly as Andrew began to scratch at his back furiously.

" I rummaged through your backpack after you approached me. You want to know what a werewolf is so bad huh? Well, you're about to get a personal experience of lycanthropy." Andrew ignored the sly grin on Trevor's face as he scratched his back furiously, feeling waves of fur beginning to sprout on his back and legs. This isn't what he wanted! He only wanted to learn about them, not become one of them! And yet that was exactly what was happening as new, deadly wolf paws burst from his hiking boots, sprouting fully sharpened canine claws. He slowly stood up on his new digitrade paws, trying to balance himself on his new feet. Suddenly his nose turned black and began stretching out from his face, resulting in scents overpowering his brain. He could smell the forest, the trees, the herd of deer that was 2.5 kilometers to the west... and Trevor. Trevor's musk grew stronger and stronger as his nose became more adapted towards collecting scents, revealing a litany of information about the black pelted wolf standing next to him.

He was from McLaughlin and had lived there the past 20 years. He was bitten by a werewolf at age 15 while on a boy scout camping trip. Trevor, or rather his human self, worked at the nearby WALMART distribution center 9-5 on weekdays. He lived alone, his sister and mother breaking contact with him after discovering his secret. He went on a vacation recently to Springfield, Missouri. And he was lonely. The destruction of his human relationships over his curse had a huge impact on him, and Andrew could smell the fear, the sadness, the loneliness given off by the wolf standing by his side. And he understood. As stone gray fur covered his back and limbs and his chest draped in a pelt of snow white, he realized he had learned a lot about werewolves. And as he turned towards Trevor, watching him with an expression of genuine excitement, he realized he had made a friend as well. A tail burst out from the shredded remains of his pants, and his muzzle stretched out into a wolf's muzzle, the fangs of a canine replacing the teeth of a human. Waves of muscle coiled around his body, slithering up his limbs like anacondas. Suddenly he found himself at an even height with Trevor. He bent over, gasping through his new muzzle as the changes completed. He felt a strength he had never felt before, like he could suddenly climb the tallest mountain and run through the thickest forest without even breaking a sweat. His new nose and ears sent thousands of new signals to his brain, it was like waking up out of a dream. He barely noticed Trevor's paw on his shoulder.

"Come on, the night's ending soon and we'll turn back into ourselves." he goaded Andrew, pointing in the direction of town. "Don't wanna be in the middle of the wilderness stuck as Trevor the human." He pushed a sense of urgency, but Andrew couldn't help but notice Trevor's excitement in his demeanor. He was happy to have found a friend and learn about the object of his childhood affections in one go. But there was something he would have to do first...

The elderly man rocked in his chair outside the McLaughlin tavern, taking a sip out of a Jack Daniels and smoking a cigarette. He was reading a copy of Fish and Wildlife magazine as he was ought to do on lazy Sunday mornings. Suddenly, a voice pierced the quiet air.

" Werewolves are real", it said. The old man grunted in annoyance, shifting in his seat but not bothering to turn around. "You again?" he rasped, a puff of smoke vanishing into the still morning air. "Ah thought Ah told yer to give up yer stupid dream-" The old man never finished his sentence as his toothless mouth fell to the wooden porch with a thud, eyes bulging out of their sockets in shock. Standing before him were two genuine, bona-fide werewolves, both with smug looks on their faces as he wiped his eyes in disbelief. The Jack Daniels fell on the floor with a crash, shattering into millions of shards. The old man didn't care though, as his Jack Daniels suddenly seemed not so important as his ancient body quivered in fear. One of the werewolves, with a smoky gray pelt and a white chest, leaned in to the old man so that their noses were almost touching. He smiled a toothy grin, revealing a mouthful of sharp fangs.

"This enough proof for you, sir? "



Welp here's another request done! This one's for japan2019 This one took longer than I thought lol (It's 1:00 am here T-T and I need sleep)

Requests are currently closed until I finish all the ones I already have. Art trades and commissions are still accepted if you want to jump the crowds. (I really need money, so it's much appreciated) Anyways let me know what you think in the comments below!