《Shadowcrest Shorts》


 Description of Contents Herein

    I''ve been told in the past that I have a blog-like, conversational tone. Years and years of blogging and reviewing various media (mostly video games) have altered my writing style into being fairly heavy in text and light on general fluff and dialog. I''m generally okay with this, as I''m ~48,000 words into my main fiction "The Legend of the Matriarch" and I''m enjoying how it''s turning out so far. Every paragraph has a purpose, usually explaining a subject before moving onto the next subject. I can understand if people feel it''s a bit dry but then, so was Lovecraft. Am I comparing myself to Lovecraft? Only in the sense of style, not competence.


    Anyway, over the years I''ve conjured up a few stories that cannot carry a short novel on their own. I have a tale of a woman who becomes a werewolf and eventually settles in with the nearby tribe but even in my mind the story basically ends there. A terrifying encounter with a large, insane white werewolf and some PTSD moments helped by a loving girlfriend and mountain tribe of friendly werewolves help get her through but the tale just ends. There''s no grand adventure, just a woman fleeing from her past and hitting the brick wall of the future.


    I imagine that one being at least semi-long but on the other side, I have ideas inspired by the likes of Repo! The Genetic Opera, the source of my internet moniker "Zydrate" for many years. It takes place in a world where organ transplants became incorporated, and murder became law to reclaim them. I have a softer idea, of a world where cybernetics and implants became commonplace and a woman drained of hope looks into them to ''fix'' herself. A much shorter tale to my memory.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    I have an idea of a mostly modern setting but for whatever reason the human genome split into a few variants, and culture evolved and broke down with it. That one is going to be fairly gothic in vibe, highlighting the hopelessness of changing the world.


    I also have an idea for an android in a heavier SciFi worlds but even those ideas are still compiling.


    On the more fantastical side, I have a story of a Goblin who falls to a Dwarven army that sacks the village her parents were from. So she has a small adventure becoming a master thief and raiding their vaults to drain the pay-funds to Dwarves. Once again, the idea is surface level to the point where I cannot conjure a full fiction based on a one-sentence idea alone.


    The size of these stories will vary wildly, I will personally aim for 2-3k words as I always do but when the story is over, it''s over. Maybe I can conjure up some sequels (and they will be denoted as such) but they will remain in this collection.


    If you''re looking for something a bit more cohesive, I''d recommend checking out my main fiction, "Legend of the Matriarch" which will maintain more focus.

 White Wolf of the Mountains (Part 1)

    A fixer is a term used often in criminal elements to describe a person that makes arrangements for people. Per the name, they¡¯re usually there to assist in fixing a problem. Livia Avencii is a recipient of such an entity in the criminal world, being the daughter of a prominent Italian mobster. Her childhood was brutal and disgusting, as her father went through great lengths to make sure she was prepared to take over the drug empire he had built overseas, but honestly she was stretched so thin mentally that she had none of it. She took a bag of money (a pittance in comparison to the empire) and the absolute basics and ran. This was perhaps in the early 2000¡¯s, surveillance could be intense in some parts of the world but given that she never had photographs of her taken, her face was not out in the world and would raise no flags. This was an advantage when she ran.


    Livia was a woman of mixed heritage, born and raised in Italy but traveled fairly often, learning a multitude of relevant languages to the criminal underworld including English. She had an accent but after a year in the United States, and a concentrated effort on her part she lost some of it but it still stuck around in times of frustration or high emotion, which she suppressed. She had tanned skin thanks to her mother¡¯s side, incredibly long brown hair that she used to keep in a ponytail but after her escape she kept it down to obscure her face. She had piercing, sharp brown eyes. A clean face overall, but had a foreboding stoic expression that put her expression in somewhat permanent neutrality. She had been through a lot and it showed.


    The fixer she hired had multiple stops for her to get through, including a several hour wait in a smaller town in the middle of America. She was certainly not short on wealth and if she spent carefully, it would carry her far. It was enough to spend casually, and at one point she spent some time in a bar to watch the local news. It was one of the first times she got a read on the country¡¯s culture. Oddly the television spent a lot of time talking about the world, which she assumed America to be more self centered, perhaps it was just the specific channel. It spoke of a major earthquake and hurricane, but it eventually veered back into the events of 9/11, still fresh in America¡¯s mind and putting a lot of military pressure on the middle east. At that point some mohawk¡¯d, bearded punk sauntered into the bar with a couple of his mates and demanded the television to be turned off. The bartender complied without protest, perhaps he just wasn¡¯t interested in the channel either.


    ¡°I was watching that,¡± Livia said in her usual monotonous manner.


    ¡°Well I guess yer not are ya, cunt?¡±


    She gave a nod in acquiescence. She then took her bottle of local bear and smashed it against head, flinging him off the bar and onto the floor. Enough force that the bottle itself shattered and exploded. The punk bled a bit but the damage was superfluous, easily fixed by a bandage or a stitch.


    Naturally his mates took offense to this, looking at her with fury in their eyes. She kept the shattered bottle in hand, and stated flatly:


    ¡°Whatever you are thinking, be sure to rethink it.¡±


    They stare matched hers, unblinking. Perhaps they recognized that the woman was not to be trifled with, and they took their friend¡¯s arms to drag him out of the bar.


    ¡°Would you turn that back on, please?¡±


    Wide-eyed in amazement, the bartender complied again. He still had to mention, ¡°Normally I¡¯d remove everyone involved in a fight¡­¡±


    She interrupted, ¡°No. I won¡¯t be here long enough for it to matter.¡±


    The bartender gave a shrug with a ¡®fair enough¡¯ facial expression.


    True to her word, she was only there for a couple of hours before going back to the airport, her layaway was up.


    The fixer had aimed to get her to a village in Norway, not far from some steppes to a mountain range. The mountain would give her cover, and the couple of towns nearby would give some relative anonymity. A lot of people fleeing a life of crime tend to choose some islands, straight down to Mexico or even Sweden. However Livia always liked the cold, the snow. Alaska was even up for an option but she wanted to be a bit more deceptive. Norway is technically closer to Italy but knowing her father, she surmises that he may think she decided to bunker down in America. Otherwise, it would be quieter. She specifically wanted to live a meager life of chopping wood and hunting wolves.


    She was led to a shack, off the path. Down the hills there was a decently sized town, with a population of about ninety-thousand. Close enough to a major city for imports but still mostly sustaining themselves. Up the mountain paths was an isolationist village, which she was warned against bothering. They were described as wearing animal furs, had their own farms, and lived completely off the grid. There was electricity up there, as during the night she noticed plenty of lights and even heard the faint sound of music coming down the mountain. Likely using their own generators.


    Her shack was small, a single room. It was a tiny longhouse, a privacy curtain for a shower. It too was similarly off the grid, only having lanterns and oils to keep warm. There was a bed, stove, a single table that could only fit two visitors and herself comfortably. Some shelving and storage units but not much, most of the storage was a small shed on the back of the house, pushed against it. Ultimately the whole thing took very little space at all, which she adored. It¡¯s essentially exactly what she wished for.


    Outside was a scattered forest, plenty of skinny pine trees with some spread to see a decent distance, with some of it too thick to do so. She took the time to set up basic traps for both wolves and people, as she had the advantage of having private property. They weren¡¯t always harmful or lethal traps, but more of an early warning system. A crack here, a trip there. One of the many survival tactics her father taught her, from taking a ship and tossing her onto a small island to survive for a week. She almost didn¡¯t make it.


    Her USD did not do her very well but the fixer was well paid enough to assist her in some conversions. She planned on setting some roots down but she still kept several bundles of foreign currency in case of emergency. Ultimately she had a sizable portion of it converted to Norwegian Krones. It got her pretty far, at the time the Krone was worth .15ths of a dollar. Not a bad conversion for her purposes. On occasion she would travel down to the town to make some basic purchases. Other than the necessities she also purchased a decent hunting rifle, nothing military and no suppressor. She was far enough away from anything to the point where her potshots at wolves were never heard, nobody came looking for the source.


    English was fairly prominent in Norway, being their second language. She would still go on to learn some relevant phrases but it seemed like she didn¡¯t need to, and mostly asked to pass the time.


    She was vaguely acquainted with the hunters up the mountain. They were cordial enough, being introduced to the fact that it¡¯s technically their land but a bit too far below them (topographically speaking) to deal with so the shack was abandoned and maintained by outsiders. They asked for no tax, just that she respects the land. She does fine enough, and actually opened a line of trade between but is always stopped at their defensive gate up the path when she had pelts to sell.


    While they did employ furs in their usual wardrobe, she found it odd that some were rather scant in their clothing. More than she¡¯d expect for the cold, anyway. All the hunters she met always wore full pants and shoes to deal with the snow, but above the belt was always more random. The men sometimes didn¡¯t have shirts, a portion of their chest showed with some wolf pelt covering their shoulders. A hunter, whom she finally wrangled the name Astrid from, wore a type of split-leather where her sides and midsection showed, but wore pelts and a hood as everyone else did. The one time she bothered to engage in conversation, Livia asked about it.


    ¡°I did not want to be impolite, but why do some of you¡­ not cover everything?¡±


    ¡°It breathes. We¡¯re very active,¡± Astrid said.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Oh. Makes sense,¡± Livia said truthfully. She knew full well after some hours spent chopping wood, sometimes she¡¯d remove her overcoat because the heat became too much to bear.


    ¡°I also didn¡¯t want to be impolite, but where¡¯s that accent from?¡± Astrid asked, in her own fairly thick Norwegian accent.


    ¡°Ah. I am from Italy. I tried to lose it but I guess I won¡¯t for some time.¡±


    Astrid would nod once, satisfied with the answer but left to return to her group after lingering at Livia¡¯s shack for a minute too long.


    Livia barely got a good look at her. She had a strong, matronly jaw with thin lips. Damn near as white as the snow below them, but not truly. Livia was used to the occasional double-takes to her own person, as the country was very heavily Caucasian. Over time, people barely paid her a mind.


    Livia spent roughly six months doing all of these things before anything of note happened.


    It was an early morning like any other. Livia built up a routine but she lived by her whims, lonely in the cold wilderness. Some days she would cut wood, sometimes she¡¯d hunt, sometimes she kept a journal, and sometimes she would just relax and listen to the pine leaves rub against each other in the wind. She was cooking some noodles on the stovetop when she heard one of her early warnings trigger. One would think it was just a hunter come to visit, but it was in the opposite direction. Her vicious ¡®training¡¯ gave her a degree of paranoia so her first action was to grab her rifle and pocket some ammunition, and essentially geared herself up as quickly as she could, even choosing her white jacket to camouflage with the snow.


    She exited her shack but kept to her own perimeter. She had crafted herself a bit of a makeshift fence, which she used for basic cover and some stability for her rifle as she peered between the trees, the best her vision would allow.


    She caught a glimpse of something. Tall, furred, and very white. She almost missed it, as it also blended with the snow stuck to the pine. She elected to step a few trees closer, constantly using them for cover. It was rarely for her to leave the comfort of her shack, she never needed to. Event hunting was easy, as packs of wolves sometimes wandered in her tiny zone.


    After some basic tracking, she learned that this beast was not subtle, nor particularly quiet. A guttural, inconsistent growl could be heard as some lumbering beast sauntered around the woods, with barely a proper goal in mind. When she got a good look at its backside, she was very confused.


    It was like a wolf, but stood tall. It was a pale white in its fur, and massive in scope. Incredibly broad shoulders, long legs with powerful thighs and calves. It was like nothing she had ever seen. Notably, it was scratching at trees and twitching erratically. She didn¡¯t get a good look at its front yet but she saw it twitch its snout into the nearest tree, biting into the bark and drooling all over it. Mad, this thing was.


    After a few seconds, the idea of a ¡®werewolf¡¯ came to mind. From all the movies and television shows she used to watch, it had the same stature. Surely not, however, because werewolves were not real.


    It seemed to be all but confirmed when it turned around. Livia duck lower, sinking into the snow slightly, letting her white hood cover most of her features. She didn¡¯t have a particularly keen eyesight, but had no need for glasses either. The beast was something to the effect of sixty feet away from her, and indeed it was highly werewolf-like. Long, bloody snout, perhaps from a recent meal. The red was punctuated deeply from all the white fur, it was partially dried and reached down to its chest area. It even looked like the beast had breasts, but all possible extremities were covered by fur. Still, it was not a titillating picture, the beast continued to drool, twitch, and even howled. Not a howl like she¡¯s heard on television, this one was sickly and low. It drooled on itself, the salvia revitalizing some of the dried blood which made it drip down its cleavage even further.


    The scope of its height could not be understated in her mind. It was a massive beast, comparable to a bear. It certainly dwarfed her, so she elected to slide down the small snow mound obscuring her and snuck back to her shack. It was successful, as she didn¡¯t seem to have caught its attention until more of her warning traps began to trip, accompanied by the annoyed howl of the creature with violent slashing against the trees nearby. Livia ran into her shack and covered most of the windows, peeking out a slight one-inch slit and noticed one of the trees began to fall. It was approaching.


    After being annoyed at getting a stick in its ankle, it lumbered over towards her shack. She put out all possible lights she could, and watched the beast just wander and observe the perimeter of the shack. Not entirely unlike a bear in a camper¡¯s gathering. Livia¡¯s heart was pounding at this point, adrenaline coursing through her to the point where everything almost seemed to slow down, much to her annoyance because she¡¯d rather this problem go away as soon as possible.


    She tracked the beast through the windows, having left a slight inch in all the flaps so she could watch it wander. Unfortunately the light peering in, without any internal lights did not give her the best periphery and she bumped into her bed, wood screeching against wood.


    The beast charged the shack like it was an enemy all by itself, tearing through one of the windows as if there wasn¡¯t a structure there at all. An entire hole now in her shack, she ran out the door to get a better vantage point to open fire. And fire she did, opening a volley of three bullets before noticing that she did nothing to deter it. To wit, the bullets had connected and entered the creature, as it bled slightly (again, she could only tell because the bright white fur accentuated any damage it took). She opted for a reload as the howling, mad wolf began to close the distance.


    She got one more shot off and with the range closing, managed to get a shot right in one of its eyes, which surprisingly gave it pause. It howled in pain, their large claws trying to dig at the eye cavity to try and retrieve the intruder but it quickly gave up to locate the source of the shot which was, of course, the reloading Livia not terribly far away. It was incredibly fast, the size of the beast allowed it to close the distance in only a couple of seconds, where its massive maw clamped onto Livia¡¯s left shoulder. The force of the charge pushed her onto the back as their maw chewed down.


    There was so much pain and fear, that it reminded her of a memory. Her father once staged an assault one night as she slept. One of his underlings was tasked with emulating a sexual assault (though not going that far or he would likely have been killed). It was a test of her reflexes and combat prowess at the time, even when she was very young. It absolutely terrified her as she was being held down, but got a lucky knee to the man¡¯s groin, took his knife, and shoved it into his ear. At the time she assumed it was a rival cartel infiltrating the compound to make her father hurt so she went lethal. Discovering that it was just one of her father¡¯s thugs nearly made her vomit, yet he was absolutely so proud of her. She hated that.


    Livia was nearly in a similar position here, and she had a combat knife. A couple of them, really. However this monster-wolf¡¯s attack was erratic, behaving almost like a bear protecting its den. As it chewed through her arm, it at times lifted her up to smash her against a tree. It left her alone for just a second as it had another one of its odd seizures, which allowed her to begin crawling away, bleeding all over the snow. She went towards her shack but the pause in combat did not last long as it leaped over and bit at the same wound yet again, nearly tearing her arm off.


    She was able to turn around only for it to bite yet again, this time her arm properly being torn right off, sliding down a couple feet away from the melee. She wanted to throw up, her mouth tasted of iron but her mind was just flooded with thoughts of survival even though part of her knew she would not. The creature crawled on top of her ready to nip at the next part of its meal but with her remaining arm she got her knife to stab at it. Their hide was incredibly tough, it was like trying to cut through steel. She didn¡¯t waste too much time on its hide though and due to their proximity, she elected to begin stabbing at the eye she shot through.


    The plan worked, she stabbed and stabbed and the beast was too preoccupied with its own pain to respond properly. The eye cavity was eventually carved out enough to fit the entire blade in. Blood spewed all over Livia, getting into her mouth and the nub of her lost arm, and absolutely drenching her white jacket. Eventually she was able to palm strike the hilt of the knife with all the strength she had left and she was surprised that it began to¡­ stop. There was a groaning, a sad mewling as perhaps the knife finally reached its brain and pierced it. It was hard to tell if it was an instant kill or not, or if the beast¡¯s muscle memory just allowed it to stand there for a second before flopping lifelessly on top of Livia. It was so god damn heavy, she couldn¡¯t move now. Tried as she might, she had no strength left and it got very hard to breathe, and was met with an oncoming burning sensation that permeated her veins.


    This was of course, not the end of her story.

 White Wolf of the Mountains (Part 2)

    What she did not know at the time but certainly figured it out, was that this was indeed a werewolf. By all rights she should have died outright from blood loss and shock. She assumed being as cold as she was, it slowed down the blood loss but at a certain point she did not feel like she was dying, though she certainly wanted to.


    She couldn¡¯t move, and was just left with a series of memories to flood her mind that were not hers. They were blurry visions of a life not her own, in the perspective of a nine foot tall beast committing a multitude of murders. Hours upon hours went by and all she saw in her mind¡¯s eye was slaughter and butchery, an incalculable loss of life and people being torn apart in various snowed in landscapes. Mostly forests, but she also caught a glimpse of the outskirts of cities as well.


    She surmised that perhaps the blood was transferring memories, but she couldn¡¯t maintain much thought herself. She felt so much less than she was, everything she could be lying there in the snow was burning, stinging pain and the memories of a mass murderer. Hours and hours went by, even days but it felt like months. She could feel herself rotting away, and the corpse never got lighter.


    Eventually, the same hunting party from the hunter compound she had met before finally made their way back to her shack. They noticed the shack looked like it had exploded, but with no fire or char. It did not take long for them to notice the red patches all over the snow. It hadn¡¯t flurried much in the days since the attack so plenty of it was visible. They turned past the small snowy hill and located the remains of the melee, shocked at the sight.


    ¡°Hva faen¡­¡± one of them uttered, and they rushed to the scene. Astrid was also present, electing to take the perimeter in case any critters wanted to finally start closing in to explore the remains.


    Another one called out, ¡°Erik, hun puster fortsatt!¡±


    A couple, including Astrid, came to haul the corpse of the beast off of her. At one moment they were confused, because there was a cold-rotten arm a few feet away but Livia still had both of hers, but without the jacket covering it, like someone just ripped off the sleeve.


    Astrid spoke up in English, ¡°She turned.¡±


    Once Livia was finally able to breathe, the grace of whatever gods may exist finally allowed her to pass out.


    She awoke later in completely unfamiliar territory. The first sensation was warmth, something she hadn¡¯t really felt in some time. She was in new clothing, a fairly modest fixture of leathers. She crawled out of the bunk and looked behind her, it was a series of bunks affixed inside a wall, with several others scattered around and sleeping. It looked like the inside of an RV, but expanded. It even had some ladders for visitors to reach them. Communal living, apparently.


    She left the room, a bit lost and confused. She entered a fairly bustling area. It looked like a classic, nordic longhouse but logically more modernized. It had a bar-like atmosphere, but a place where people could actually live. There was indeed a bar, as well as televisions that many hunters were lounging and laughing at. Damn near everyone had some kind of stein in hand.


    Livia wandered to some of the nearest Norse, still not being able to speak much of it and she was talked to only for her to be a bit confused. The best she could come up with was ¡°Astrid?¡± At that point she was directed down the hall while the hunters returned to their general merrymaking. All the while, many of them looked in her direction for a moment, but she couldn¡¯t discern the intent behind it. She was about the only person of color around, though she did spot a black man or two dressed as everyone else and speaking their language (she assumed fluently) so her look wasn¡¯t completely foreign.


    As she traveled deeper in the complex she noted that the interior seemed larger than it should be. She finally deduced that she was within the mountain itself and everything was built within caves. She probably should have caught that when the ceiling was incredibly high but she had other things in mind. The place was fairly busy, and she passed something like a marketplace where people were trading and crafting furs, spears, and there were even some guns. Notably there were several clothed werewolves wandering around, relaxing and merrymaking with the rest. She felt like she should have been terrified but she had enough intelligence to surmise that perhaps the one she encountered was some kind of outlier. She did indeed notice she had both of her arms, which led to the assumption that being bled on by a massive werewolf probably turned her into one, but she had to put a pin in that. One problem at a time, Livia.


    She kept asking, ¡°Astrid?¡± and being pointed in the right direction. All the while people started to stare and smile, nodding in respect.


    Eventually she walked into a craftsman¡¯s den, the smell of burning leather came upon her. There was also a blacksmith, hammering out some tools. She finally found Astrid, accompanied by one or two men she recognized from the hunting party she was a part of. They greeted her kindly, and thankfully in english.


    ¡°The hunter awakes!¡± one of them exclaimed happily. Big, bearded grin accompanied.


    Even Astrid who was normally as stone-faced as Livia herself had a content, worried smile. It was subdued compared to the rest.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Livia asked, pointedly.


    Astrid spoke up first, ¡°You slew a white wolf, a mighty feat. You¡¯re a legend around here.¡±


    ¡°Is that significant?¡±


    ¡°Quite. They¡¯re the deadliest of werewolves, and quite insane. We¡¯re not sure why they became erratic some centuries ago, when they used to be chieftains and warlords. Now they just wander around, killing. We try to hunt them ourselves but they are very powerful and elusive,¡± Astrid explained.


    ¡°Then how the fuck did I get one?¡± Livia asked.


    Erik chimed in, ¡°A fucking load of luck, girl. Got right there in its brain.¡±


    Astrid motioned for Livia to follow her, ¡°Come here, let us show you the rewards of the hunt.¡±


    She complied, and was led to the backroom of the tanning booth. In the worker¡¯s room, there was a massive table with a partially skinned white wolf corpse. The worker there was a more lithe man with glasses, but still greeted everyone in Norwegian so still a local, just perhaps not a warrior. He may not even be a werewolf, but that was just an assumption on her part.


    Only then did her heart begin to beat faster and she was locked in place, fear and memory flooded her mind. To everyone, the carcass was a major victory for the community as a whole. To her, it was the beast that ripped her arm off, which she reached towards the now-healed arm instinctively and began to rub it to remind herself she still has it. Astrid was the only one to notice Livia¡¯s growing discomfort, and sequestered her away quickly. She spouted something in Norwegian to her party, it sounded barbed but could not make out what she said.


    Her heart pounded to the point of pain, and tears crawled out of her eyes. It¡¯s all she could think about was the attack. Astrid sat down with her and shouted some order, and someone rushed over with some water which Livia downed happily. She was hyperventilating, so the hydration helped but only so much. Her breathing was rapid so her only way to combat the panic attack was to lock herself up and stare at the floor.


    ¡°Are you okay? What do you need?¡± Astrid asked, trying to help.


    ¡°Just¡­ need a minute. Panic attack,¡± Livia¡¯s had them before.


    A few minutes went by, with Astrid giving just a few words of comfort. A body to lean on, metaphorically.


    ¡°I want to go ho¡ª God damnit, I don¡¯t have a home.¡±


    ¡°About that,¡± Astrid added. ¡°The Chieftain wants to meet you. He might be able to help with that.¡±


    As Livia¡¯s breathing stabilized, she nodded in approval. They wandered off together, Astrid led her through the compound. The werewolves they passed were varied in body shape and fur color, but notably not a single one on the gray or white scale. They ranged from various browns, blacks, and reds. It was as they claimed, white wolves were special and more rare.


    She was led into a fairly casual throne room with church-like benches flanking it. Along the walls were various trophies and animal heads, very much giving a hunter¡¯s den vibe as the whole compound did. Hunters and trappers are a vocation that just never really go out of style, apparently.


    The room had a smattering of hunters but more came wandering in, some taking a seat and some casually leaning against the walls. There was no shout or cry for a meeting.


    Astrid leaned into Livia to whisper, ¡°They¡¯re all coming to hear your story.¡±


    Livia was then introduced to Chieftain Bj?rn. He was on the older side, exceeding sixty but had a healthy body for it. A fair beast of a man but barely any taller than Livia was, and a well maintained gray beard and hair with some braids within. He took to his throne and motioned Livia to step forward.


    She was the first to speak. ¡°I don¡¯t really know what¡¯s goi-¡±


    Bj?rn held up his hand, a motion for her to cease. Not impolitely, mind you, which was proven by the accented words that followed.


    ¡°First, Livia. I would like to offer my sincerest apologies on behalf of our tribe, that you had to encounter the White Wolf outside our terms. That one has been tracked for forty years, always defeating our hunting parties and since then, our chief hunter Astrid has been tasked with keeping track of its movements. Unfortunately, it wandered too close to our borders which undercut our hunter¡¯s patrols. It was a horrible thing you had to go through, and through absolutely no fault of your own. Nor did you have any choice in becoming one of our wolves, something that we ritualize and hold very dear.¡±


    ¡°To make amends for this tragedy, I offer two things. First, you will be exempt from our rituals and inductions. You do not have to become part of our tribe if you do not wish to be, a choice that many who become wolves do not have. Secondly, I have already ordered a new cabin for you, and some wood is already being sent to where your home is. It will take a few weeks, but we have some good men on it. I hope it will be to your liking.¡±


    His voice was solemn but commanding, and Livia appreciated that she was not being forced into a world that she did not choose. There was actual comfort in his words, and she was happy that a home was being built for her. She still liked the idea of living off the land, off the grid. There was this constant feeling since she woke up that all she wanted to do was go home, when there was none to have. This man fixed that, and for that she had an appreciative tone in her words which did not go unnoticed.


    ¡°Uh, thank you. I accept, uhm, both of those things. But¡­¡± She had a pause.


    Bj?rn spoke up, ¡°If you have any requests within reason, please let them be known.¡± The room was filled to the dozens at this point, everyone listening to the exchange, the story likely spread this way.


    ¡°I still need to know about being, becoming this thing. So I don¡¯t run into any more surprises. Like, I know some basic lore about it but I should probably be corrected, yeah?¡±


    Bj?rn nods in agreement, ¡°We have some literature that can help with that.¡±


    ¡°I was thinking maybe a tutor as well? Maybe Astrid could come by and answer questions?¡± With that, she turned towards Astrid.


    Astrid was taken aback slightly by being put on the spot but she regained her composure quickly enough. ¡°My Chieftain, with the white wolf taken care of, this would be an honorable way to fill some hours of my day and still respect her exemption from our tribe.¡±


    Bj?rn nodded a time or two in thought, ¡°This is acceptable. Is there anything else?¡±


    Livia answered, ¡°Honestly sir, I just really want to go home. To have a home again.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll see if we can get some extra hands on building,¡± He then addressed the crowd, ¡°Spread the word, if there are any volunteers, then report to the cabin.¡± There was some shuffling and murmurs in response.


    ¡°Is there anything else, child?¡±


    Livia shook her head in the negative, and with that the crowd was dispersed.


    Within the following two weeks or so, Livia experienced a subdued celebrity status. Her trauma was well known and the rumor of her panic attack spread, so Astrid and Livia discussed and assumed that most of the tribe was told not to assault her with questions about the attack. Astrid¡¯s people love talking of hunts and many hunters embellish their stories but Livia¡¯s attack was particularly brutal even by werewolf standards so most kept their distance with the occasional exception. In that, she did not spend a lot of time mingling with the locals but many more doors were opened up for her. She was often approached by hunters, telling her that they volunteered to help build her shack. Apparently there were many builders on it. She got a chance to visit her old, destroyed shack once and noticed something of twenty or thirty people working on it, which shocked her.


    Eventually she got context as to why; Apparently the white wolf had slain many people in the tribe of years past. A lot of the workers on her new cabin were victims of killed family members, so Livia garnered a lot of respect for slaying it. In the odd times she conversed with some of them, there was respect there. She almost did not feel worthy of it, trying to accentuate the fact that luck was the deciding factor of the white wolf¡¯s defeat.


    Astrid was quick to correct it, ¡°That is still why many hunters still use traps and spears over rifles. There¡¯s no story when you snipe a beast from a mile away, but the thrill of taking on a wolf with blade in hand, still commands respect from the tribe. When that happens, luck becomes a huge part of battle. Our culture is aware of this.¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    It was one of the many lessons Astrid would impart on Livia in the weeks she remained within the compound. Beyond that she was given the basics of werewolves, a lot of it works like in common lore but what mostly concerned Livia was the idea of a ¡°blood rage¡±, the need to feed or the mind-overriding fury that werewolves have in lore and media.


    Astrid corrected this to a degree, ¡°We are not vampires, we have no need to feed but like anyone else. As for fury, the moon does still have power over us. During the full moon, we get boundless energy to the point where it can become painful if we do not expend it. We have rituals to help, depending on what a wolf chooses. Most hunters choose the run, where on the night of the full moon there are massive running parties that bound across the mountains. Like a sprint, or a race. It lasts for hours and is a good way to get through the near-limitless energy we get.¡±


    ¡°Our caverns also host rooms for orgies, which can also last for several hours and is another way to deal with the energy. Different rooms for different preferences, of course.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s one way to do it I guess,¡± Livia chuckled, and they had a laugh together. She had to ask, ¡°And what is your preference?¡±


    Astrid gave it some thought, ¡°I still want my own tribe some day. I want to lead, to have a family and expand my bloodline. The men who have tried to court me all feel just so¡­ common. Boring, I guess? Does that make sense?¡±


    Livia marked her down as straight, shame. ¡°I guess,¡± was all she uttered and the conversation died with that. She also had no interest in the tribes themselves and never asked for elaboration. She eventually learned that they¡¯re all over the world, and that other mythical creatures exist but in this area of the world they¡¯re not encountered very often.


    All the same, the death of the local White Wolf was big news. There was also a bit of a concern of what kind of white wolf Livia herself would be. She hadn¡¯t shown any signs of mental instability, or rather not the violent ones. She noticed an increase in panic attacks than what she¡¯d had before. Her childhood was insane but nothing really triggered her into shutting down for a few minutes like the werewolf attack did, and this particular mountain community was a bit light on therapists but she wasn¡¯t prepared to put herself out there in the main city below. As it stood it was more mental anguish than physical so she opted to just hold onto it for now, and if her feelings got worse she¡¯d explore options in the city.


    Still, despite having a crush on someone with an incompatible orientation, Astrid¡¯s presence was calming for her. Astrid herself was also a bit on the stoic side but for different reasons, and still opened up to Livia especially in quieter settings. Notably, according to Livia, she was absolutely gorgeous. Her time in the compound she finally got to see her without a hood. She had incredibly long blond hair, braided to make it manageable. Her eyes, like many other werewolves, had a sheen of bright yellow to it (which can apparently only be detected by otherworldly entities, otherwise she had fairly plain brown eyes). Her arms were muscular, which made sense for her common use of bows and arrows. Livia was no slouch in the athletic department herself, generally keeping herself toned but it was still nothing compared to the hunters that surrounded her. All the same, Livia tried to keep Astrid close as she was more comfortable with her than anyone else. While her cabin was being built, they became fairly close friends and Livia became her confidant, someone to vent years worth of frustrations with the werewolf community without fear of being exiled.


    It didn¡¯t take long, especially with all of the extra volunteers from Bj?rn¡¯s call to aid. Roughly two weeks or so, and she was finally awarded a new cabin for her troubles.


    It was three times larger than the shack she originally had, finally hosting multiple rooms. Yet it was still built for one person, but could fit two comfortably. Any potential for family, it would likely need to be expanded. It took up the same frontal space but was built longer, its backside pushing towards the steppes. It was built with care, with massive hardy logs of wood. The shack was built more like a shed to begin with, and was not designed to be actually lived in, but more of a safehouse than anything. The cabin in contrast was a place someone could actually put down roots.


    Despite being able to host multiple rooms, it still had an open layout. Most rooms were not connected by any walls or doors, the only thing that was enclosed was a closet or two and some storage. There was a proper living room now with an older but functional television. Next to it was the kitchen with a table that could comfortably seat four people. There was a bedroom which did have its own walls to itself, but that was it. Even the shower and bath didn¡¯t have walls, but just had its own special drain and anti-slip tiling. There could be a privacy curtain but it was awkwardly placed to the point where its presence was a formality. The builders assumed she would be here alone with the occasional guest and was designed with that in mind.


    There were hooks for multiple lanterns beyond the single one she had before, and it was now well lit and incredibly warm and homey. She still had the usual back-house shed and storage. All of the necessities were still there, just expanded to be comfortable.


    Emotions overcame her, and she began to cry. She was comforted by Astrid and the foreman, still consoled by the fact that it wasn¡¯t so much if she deserved it or not; there were many workers that were just happy to have a project to do again. Again, there was also still the fact that she inadvertently saved several lives in the future. Whether she thought it or not, she did in fact deserve this treasure.


    They did find her bag of cash but it went untouched. She offered to pay them, but was refused. Nobody knew what was in the bag, none bothered to peek while she was in the compound. They assumed it was books.


    She settled in well enough but quicker than she realized, she was alone again. There was the comforting fact that she now had Astrid as a visitor, between one to four visits a week, depending on if her hunting party had a quarry or not. Alongside these visits she¡¯d usually bring something to smoke, like a varied herb or marijuana. They both typically sat by the window to smoke together so the scent doesn¡¯t stick to the rest of the walls, and Livia never minded the cold breeze to mix with the warmth of the fire.


    Astrid used her to complain about her society, which Livia didn¡¯t mind. They were very kind to her personally but there were still a lot of in-between things Astrid did not care for.


    ¡°There¡¯s this expectation that, if you want a tribe you need to marry and have children to expand the bloodline. I come from nobody, so I have no name. I need to make one.¡±


    Livia veiled her intentions with a theoretical, ¡°Well, let¡¯s say I wanted to make a tribe. I¡¯m gay, so would that be problematic?¡±


    Astrid took a second to think on it, ¡°I don¡¯t think my people have a problem with them, but I still feel like there¡¯s an expectation for leaders to be a woman and man.¡±


    Livia¡¯s query functioned two-fold. She certainly wanted to let Astrid know of her own preferences, while trying to gauge hers. Astrid never really said what she liked, most of the conversations were complaints so it was hard to read.


    ¡°Unfortunate,¡± Livia replied.


    ¡°Yes. And there¡¯s this man who¡¯s been trying to court me, says he deserves to have me. Best warrior, best hunter. Best blood.¡±


    ¡°I assume he¡¯s an asshole?¡± Livia quipped.


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, Livia. It¡¯s hard to say. He¡¯s haughty for sure and hasn¡¯t been too pushy, but he¡¯s been getting worse in recent years. I think his tribe is pressuring him to find a mate and he seems like he¡¯s ¡®settling¡¯ for me and won¡¯t take no for an answer.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not great, have you made sure he knows? Like, tell him to fuck off?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why the hell not?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m not sure yet. Maybe I don¡¯t need to mate for love, maybe he can just be a jumping off point to get a tribe started?¡±


    ¡°It sounds to me like you can do that with anyone, Astrid.¡±


    Astrid sighed, ¡°Well, you¡¯re not wrong.¡±


    There would be several conversations like this over the course of weeks, not always along the same vein and not always in a venting capacity. Livia made it known that she appreciated Astrid¡¯s presence, though Astrid remained completely oblivious to her crush because being with a woman was not something she had considered to be an option. Not that Astrid was at all a young werewolf, she was pushing into the two-hundreds. Romance was just always last on her list of priorities.


    At one point Astrid came with a delivery. She had some kind of satchel and strap, fairly large. Not entirely unlike the one Livia kept her money in.


    ¡°Sorry, Livia, I have to make this quick. There¡¯s a hunter¡¯s meeting in an hour and as the lead I need to be there. But the tanner finished his work, actually he did a few days ago and we just now made the delivery¡­ Sorry.¡± She upholstered the pack and handed it over, which Livia accepted.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Your bounty, dear. It rightfully belongs to you,¡± and with that Astrid offered a polite goodbye and a promise to return the next day for a more proper conversation.


    Livia opened the pack and revealed strips of white furred hide. It hit her immediately, this was the tanned and curated hide of the beast that attacked her, cleaned up and made to be used for any variety of methods. Blankets, armor, footrug, anything one desired to do with it. It was incredibly tough, she pulled at it for a second and wondered how they could cut it into pieces at all, and then she realized it had been a couple of months so it probably took a lot of work and special equipment to do it.


    Then something else hit her. Another attack, her mind locked down and her mind was flooded with the memory of her hiding in her shack and tracking the beast between the window curtains. Her heart pounded, and she closed the sack and collapsed on the floor to have herself a silent cry. Trying to hold back the sound of crying just made her breathe heavier, which tired her out and just forced out more tears. It took about an hour for her to recover, and she realized she could not at all accept this ¡®gift¡¯, because it was just a symbol of agony. She resolved to gear up, and haul it back to the hunter¡¯s mountain compound.


    It¡¯s always a decent hike, which is why she doesn¡¯t bother most of the time. However unlike before, being stopped at the gate, she was greeted kindly and they opened up for her in respect. Her story had spread in the past months so she was greeted with smiles and salutes in the halls, but she had a goal. Once again she was just asking ¡°Astrid?¡± and being pointed towards a different section, one she had barely seen before. A sort of military barracks.


    By then, hours had passed and Astrid¡¯s meeting had ended. She still had some people lingering to speak on some final touches, and several were entering and exiting the halls. She spotted Livia and greeted her with a surprised smile.


    ¡°Did not expect to see you again so soon, Livia!¡±


    ¡°Ah, yeah. Meeting over?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Yes, yes. Mostly talking about the new patrols and coordinating the next full moon¡¯s race. Did you need something?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, uh. I can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t accept this,¡± Livia unstrapped the packaged hides and carried it towards her. ¡°I¡¯d like you to have them.¡±


    This caught some attention, to the surprise of Livia. She hadn¡¯t understood the weight of what she just did at the time.


    ¡°Livia¡­ this is a king¡¯s gift. Something to be given to chieftains and heroes. I mean, it¡¯s yours but¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d uh, specifically you. I¡¯d like you to have it. I think if you cut it into strips, it¡¯d make for some cool highlights to your armor. Make you look more distinguished,¡± Livia outstretched her arms, while Astrid reluctantly took the white wolf¡¯s bounty. She was left stunned, and Livia sheepishly retreated. She did not want to have another mental breakdown in front of the gathering crowd, which now spread the story. She did not overhear anything relevant and did not want to, she mostly just wanted to leave the hides and return home.


    It took three days for her to see Astrid again, beyond her promised one. Livia got a bit nervous, wondering if she caused some unintended offense. In truth Astrid was just reeling from the reward. She did come to the cabin, with a look of concern.


    ¡°Is everything alright?¡± Livia asked.


    Astrid sighed, ¡°You, uh. You don¡¯t really know what you did with that, did you?¡±


    ¡°What, giving you the hides?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡±


    ¡°I mean, come in and tell me?¡± Livia said. Astrid accepted, and relaxed but only to a degree. She quickly retrieved her smokes for them both to share, and Astrid had to take a long drag to calm her nerves before she continued the conversation.


    ¡°There¡¯s this perception in the tribe. The gift you gave me¡­ was akin to a marriage proposal.¡±


    ¡°...Oh. Oh,¡± was all Livia could really respond at the time.


    Astrid continued, ¡°There¡¯s also this rumor that you might be in love with me? I didn¡¯t even think about it like that, us¡­¡±


    Livia was quick to try and console her, ¡°I think love might be too strong a word for it, at least right now.¡±


    Astrid looked surprised, ¡°But there are feelings?¡±


    ¡°I mean, yeah. You¡¯re gorgeous, and the only one in that tribe that took me under your wing. I figured it was a bit natural for me to¡­ you know.¡±


    At that point Astrid became a bit annoyed, but not at Livia. At herself.


    ¡°God damnit, how did I not notice? It¡¯s so obvious now, I¡¯m an idiot.¡±


    She grumbled like this for a minute before Livia offered her a weak smile. ¡°I mean, you¡¯ve told me before. Romance was never really on your mind, right? I get it, I don¡¯t want to pressure you with anything.¡±


    Astrid groaned, ¡°No, no.¡± There was a pause, ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can¡¯t, uh, keep the hides?¡±


    Livia was over that particular attack so she said very plainly, ¡°Sorry, but when I went up there it was a couple hours past one of the worst panic attacks I ever had. Seeing that fur completely shut me down, I was on the floor weeping for like, forty-five minutes or something. I had to get them out of my house, and since you¡¯re a friend¡­ I just thought¡­¡±


    Astrid sighed heavily, taking another drag. ¡°I get it, I do. I¡¯ll keep them¡­ maybe do that highlight idea. Would that, uh, trigger an attack, though?¡±


    Livia shook her head, ¡°Maybe not if they¡¯re in like, thin strips. I don¡¯t feel anything when I walk by someone with a fur coat in the city, so it¡¯s a bit more random than that. Sometimes a simple smell catches me, like when I try to cook some noodles. I was cooking noodles minutes before I found that werewolf, so it triggers that memory. But I also love noodles.¡±


    They both had a chuckle at that. The conversation became more calm. Astrid acquiesced to keeping the gift, kingly as it was. Her visits became more consistent, and they began speaking more about their personal lives. Livia opened up a bit about her past so her trauma was more contextualized and Astrid promised to make sure the tribes stay off her back a bit. Being conversationally assaulted with demands of hearing about the slayer of the White Wolf became more traumatic for her. To the point where she sought help in the city proper. A great help to her was the technique of grounding, wherein during a panic attack you focus on your basic surroundings. Livia let Astrid know of this, because on more than one occasion Astrid would come knocking to be greeted with silence, eventually finding out that Livia was crawled in a corner in abject, mental terror. Astrid was given a house key, the only recipient, so she could come in and help ground her and cut off panic attacks sooner rather than later.

 White Wolf of the Mountains (Part 3)

    During one of her visits, Astrid came to Livia in a rage.


    ¡°That motherfucker!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to be more specific,¡± Livia responded while boiling water for some of her lunch noodles.


    ¡°Fucking Jakob! He¡¯s going around trying to force my hand into a union. Spreading rumors about some courtship that¡¯s never really happened. Now everyone¡¯s asking me when we¡¯re to be mated, son of a bitch¡­¡±


    This was in reference to a previous conversation about werewolf unions and tribes. Jakob was a topic that was breached before, a particularly annoying gnat to Astrid constantly vying for their union that was never reciprocated. Astrid¡¯s rage carried over to Livia. They vented about this for a while, having a smoke before departing. Astrid may have decompressed but Livia¡¯s annoyance with the situation lingered, vowing that it had gone on long enough. She tried to sleep on it, but in the early morning she geared up for travel and made her way back up to the compound.


    Most she ran into asked if she was looking for Astrid but the response was different this time. She hunted down Jakob, acquiring some conversational context. Apparently he was one of the tribe¡¯s warlords, but his relevance waned in recent years as there was no war to lord over. His political push to mate with the best hunter in the local compound was essentially trying to grab some relevance back. Possibly to start his own warrior tribe and create problems where there otherwise shouldn¡¯t be. It was a problem Livia wanted to crush now.


    She found him in a similar barracks area, flanked by a few of his best warriors and guards. He greeted her politely enough, and with plenty of sincerity before he knew her intentions.


    ¡°Ah, the White Wolf. What can I do for you?¡± Jakob did not have the same Norwegian accent of the locals, but she could not place his accent. Something European.


    ¡°Leave Astrid alone. I¡¯m getting tired of hearing about how pushy you are with her,¡± she demanded.


    Jakob scoffed, his warriors offering some chuckles alongside him. ¡°White Wolf, you¡¯ve been exempted from our culture but that does not mean you can step in here and make demands. I am the best warrior, she is the best hunter. Our mateshop is destined for the moons and she doesn¡¯t know it yet.¡±


    Livia kept her composure at the time. ¡°She¡¯s being polite. She hasn¡¯t rejected you publicly because she¡¯s keeping you as a backup. You¡¯re on a goddamn shelf, but she has no intention of marrying you. So fuck off.¡±


    ¡°There are some truths there, White Wolf. Which is why I¡¯m taking myself off that shelf, yes?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it going to take for you to fuck off?¡±


    Jakob pondered the question for a moment, ¡°How about a duel, then, yes? We have an arena for honorable combat to settle disputes. Rumor has it you¡¯ve never even turned to your true wolf form¡­¡±


    This was true. For her own full moons she used Astrid¡¯s initial advice and just went jogging around her cabin for a few hours, going up and down the mountain steppes. She had absolutely no interest in seeing the visage of her previous attacker within herself. Apparently the word of this got around. She glared at him when the rumor was all but confirmed.


    Jakob grinned wickedly, content in calling out this outsider and giving him some legitimacy to those gathered. ¡°So how about this? Wolf form or no, defeat me in honorable combat and I will leave Astrid to pursue another. I will defeat you however, and you leave the country and that cabin becomes my property.¡±


    Livia quickly agreed, ¡°Fine, whatever. When?¡±


    Jakob grinned, ¡°How about today?¡± Indeed this was not surprising, again with no war the man had little to do otherwise. So the duel was planned quickly.


    The word got around quickly, as while there was an entire underground city within these mountains it was still just a township with just a few thousand in population. Not everyone would attend, but Livia was led to the arena and was given a brief outline of the rules.


    There were not many. Death was possible if wounds became too severe but it was not set to be a deathmatch in itself. So both combatants were told to not go lethal, but things happen when werewolves are in the heat of battle. There were even laws and defenses with it, and arena combatants go into a dispute knowing that the claws of their werewolf opponent may pierce something vital.


    Only other real rule was no outside assistance. Jakob could not bring his guard to assist, and Livia had nobody to call upon anyway. As he claimed earlier, wolf form was optional but recommended. Livia had no intention. Beyond that, everything else was on the table.


    It took an hour or two for word to fully get around as the two were briefed on the rules. Even Astrid stopped by, trying to ask Livia what was happening. She tried to brush it off but still tried to avoid phrases like ¡®defending your honor¡¯ or something that could be construed as insulting (Astrid was a grown woman that could fight her own battles). Instead she went with a more to the point and crass, ¡°I fuck him up, he leaves you alone.¡±


    Astrid isn¡¯t entirely confident she could take on a warlord in an open duel so any offense was quickly quelled by her words, ¡°Kick his ass.¡±


    The two presented themselves in the arena, smaller than one would see on television. It was certainly designed for one on ones, not teams. Still, the seats around sat hundreds as there were thunderous cheers and applause. Jakob had switched to his wolf form, dwarfing Livia by about a foot and covered in thick black fur. He was playing to the crowd, arms outstretched and hyping everyone up. Livia stood there as a statue, not having been in the mood for any pageantry. She did not need to play to the crowd, and she glared at his showboating and waited for the announcements.


    There was an arena caller, who gave a vague description of what was happening. It seemed like this was hardly the first courtship drama these people have had, as their situation was explained rather clinically and the terms were laid bare. The names were well known, except perhaps Livia¡¯s own as most simply referred to her as the White Wolf. It seemed with all the rumors coursing through the community, it felt like this was the logical conclusion to the whole affair. Granted, Livia was only catching one side to this, but it seemed like a fairly robust attendance for something she perceived to be basic high school levels of drama, an annoyance that only fueled her stoicism.


    She elected to wear a spandex, sports bra and shorts. She was given this by a local clothier during the gathering phase in expectation that she may go into her wolf form, but her decision was still up in the air. She took them under the logic of not wanting to have her normal clothes ruined. Suiting her fine, she gave a look over to Astrid and while she couldn¡¯t discern the intent, Astrid¡¯s gaze was locked onto Livia. She hoped her body was being appreciated, at the very least.


    After a few minutes of pageantry the fight began properly.


    Confident in his combat experience, Jakob made a few slashes at Livia, which her skin took like a champ. Imbued with the incredibly tough hide of the white wolf, he didn¡¯t pierce her quite yet. He didn¡¯t look shaken, and perhaps expected that as his first few attacks were more or less testing his opponent.


    Livia was familiar with the Silat style of fighting, yet another practice forced upon her by her father. She was smooth in movement and her combat stance was much more martial than her opponents, who had a more basic and feral stance. It was quite a matchup, and nobody in the audience really knew what direction it was going to go.


    Wielding only her fists and feet, she let forth a volley of attacks but they seemed to not do much against the hide of Jakob¡¯s wolf. His sputtering maw cackled at her as her attacks didn¡¯t land much damage, so she figured it was time to shift into her wolf form. She never wanted to, and really hoped her eyes wouldn¡¯t catch much of the fur because it would have been a terrifying thought to have a mental breakdown in the middle of an arena fight.


    It wasn¡¯t as painful as she thought it would be, as her bones reformed to fit the size of her, shifting out of sockets and back into place seamlessly. She could feel her own skin stretch across her face as her snout formed. It was an odd sensation and not very comfortable, but far from painful. Her spandex held together, being sure to keep her extremities modest while Jakob let his penis fly in the wind (granted even that was only somewhat obscured by thick fur; and the culture had more cavalier attitudes with nudity).


    Jakob of course let this shift happen, as it would have been better for his reputation if he defeated a White Wolf in their full glory rather than some shorter human woman. Not that everyone didn¡¯t know who she was, but the visuals would make for a better story.


    The fight became more brutal after that, Jakob no longer held back and went for a tackle that succeeded, and he clawed at her chest with no effect. To her it felt like someone was trying to draw on her with a bunch of pens. It was weird. Jakob grew frustrated as he felt like he was being toyed with. It was true to some degree, as this was the first time Livia really utilized being a full werewolf, so even now she was trying to get a full breadth of her abilities. She felt large and incredibly strong, and after Jakob gave a couple more attempts she began her own defense in earnest. While she could see her own white fur across her arms and legs, her personal rage overrode the increasing heartbeat of being reminded of what tore her apart just some months prior. She adopted this strength into a proper flurry, hoping to handily defeat the man before her rage subsided and trauma took over.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    A single punch to his chest while he was straddling her for an attack sent him flying several feet back, the crowd exclaimed with ¡°Oooh!¡± It surprised and winded him, as he crawled back to his feet quickly to regain composure. Livia of course closed the distance in two bounds, still having full control over her Silat, kicking his feet out from under him and then bringing down a claw on one of his knees, practically tearing it out right there.


    At that point the fight turned against him quickly, and turned against the crowd. It stopped being an honorable duel for a woman¡¯s hand, but became a street-level beatdown. That was her advantage and her edge. He fought as a warrior did, trying to exchange blow for blow. She was, however, trained to win. The memories of things her father forced upon her in youth flooded her brain but this time not with trauma; but with rage. She was just so goddamn angry and for the first time she had a proper target to expel that rage upon. Claw after claw, fist after fist she beat him into the dirt below until his blood pooled into the sand and soil. It was such a brutal display that the crowd became more quiet and concerned. It wasn¡¯t so much that one side was being handily defeated but how. Again, they were used to more honorable blow-for-blow, almost like wrestling. It was supposed to be entertaining but seeing yet another White Wolf go insane on one of their own brought in some cultural anxieties.


    For one moment she retreated from the fight, and located one of the heavy decorated columns and ripped it out of the ground. She hauled it over to a surrendering Jakob and dropped it on one of his legs, crushing it entirely. It was rare to ever hear or see a werewolf cry, when one is in wolf form they¡¯re usually pumped so full of adrenaline that combat and survival are the only things on their mind. Jakob had been so thoroughly defeated that the mewls coming from his wolf voice were more depressing and anguished, even Astrid looked concerned.


    Livia looked around. The crowd was silent, concerned. Some warriors grasped their spears, almost wondering if this new white wolf was about to lose her mind just as all the others in the past centuries have. This thought did not escape her, as she began to breathe more evenly and tried to ground herself. Sand. Walls. People. Air. Arms. Fur. Chest. Lungs. You¡¯re okay, Livia. You¡¯re okay.


    She let the furs slip back into her flesh, her skin and bones formed back into a human¡¯s. She was a bit dirtier, with some blood on her that was not hers. Without a word she solemnly exited the arena, retrieved her gear, and made her way back home. The crowd stared at her as she did so, then began to disperse. Jakob¡¯s warriors came to collect him, having some trouble with the column that crushed his leg at first but ultimately carried him to their hospital, but not before he lost consciousness.


    She returned home, surprisingly not breaking down from the whole affair. The fight was actually cathartic, she was calmer than she had been in a long time. Probably a werewolf thing, as in the past Astrid explained the expelling of heightened energy. So that¡¯s what happened. Either way she cleaned herself off but kept her newly acquired stretchable underwear on as her outfit, because she was running particularly hot from the day¡¯s events and just elected to let her skin breathe a bit with Norway¡¯s cooler temperature.


    Astrid came by two mornings later, with a bit of a solemn expression.


    ¡°How bad is it?¡± Livia asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a lot. Jakob is in a coma,¡± Astrid answered.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hit him in the head that much, I thought?¡±


    ¡°You inflicted a lot of damage, so he passed out after you left and hasn¡¯t woken since. He¡¯s stabilized so they think he might come back eventually. It¡¯s more than that. Some shamans think the damage was not just physical, but spiritual,¡± Astrid outlined.


    Livia wondered, ¡°And everyone else? People looked a bit afraid of me as I left, and I don¡¯t blame them.¡±


    ¡°You gave a few of them a scare, but it calmed down once everyone saw you shift back and leave,¡± Astrid paused, measuring her next question carefully. ¡°Be honest with me¡­ how did it feel?¡±


    Livia gave it a thought, shoulders slumping in shame. ¡°Honestly, it felt damn great. Like a weight off my shoulders, somehow. I don¡¯t get it. Or, it¡¯s like you said¡­ I had a lot of energy and that¡¯s just how I got rid of it. Sorry.¡±


    Astrid pulled her in for a hug, ¡°Don¡¯t be. Our kind are accustomed to some level of brutality.¡±


    Livia embraced the hug, quite enjoying getting to touch Astrid in this way at all, as they¡¯ve barely done such a thing during the tenure of their friendship. During the hug Astrid spoke again.


    ¡°And¡­ sorry, for not noticing before.¡±


    ¡°Notice what?¡± Livia asked.


    Astrid answered by disengaging the hug, looking deeply into Livia¡¯s eyes and pulling her into a lengthy kiss. After that bridge was crossed, they could barely stop. Occasionally for a breath and a laugh before diving into the kiss yet again, and it got a bit saucier as each allowed it to be.


    Livia helped Astrid undress as they finally got around to making love, as clumsy and hilarious as it was. Livia had no sexual experience either. Her father didn¡¯t really give a damn about her preferences, claiming ¡°Once you¡¯re swimming in millions, you can fuck whoever you want¡±. So her outing was waved off unceremoniously, but she was never really allowed to date. Astrid had even less of an idea of what to do so most of either of their sexual experience was from pornography. Astrid watched some the previous night just to get an idea of what women do together and Livia¡¯s own knowledge was pretty much the same, nothing practical. As a result they fumbled through it in a comedy of errors, discovering certain positions don¡¯t function properly in real practice.


    They did a bit better the next night, though, figuring things out for themselves. They both would later joke about their first time together as a fond, hilarious memory and that was perfectly okay to them. After that was proper practice, and the practice was wonderful.


    They did not make a show of it. Livia continued to have little interest in the culture happening in the mountains above her, which Astrid respected. Regardless, their union was made known so Astrid would stop acquiring suitors. Her dreams of owning a tribe were all but lost until Livia brought up a point she made a month ago.


    ¡°Blood be damned, I said it before. You know you can still do all those things with another woman, right? We just need to¡­ adopt.¡±


    Astrid debated, ¡°There¡¯s still the question of bloodlines, which werewolf tribes do address and respect. It¡¯s¡­ plausible, maybe your fame could carry into some exceptions? But that could lead into the problem of the fact that you¡¯ve already been exempted from tribe laws and rules, so any further attempts to skirt the rules could lead to some hostility.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ll duel them and drop a column on their legs,¡± Livia quipped.


    Astrid couldn¡¯t help but to laugh, ¡°Ooh, that¡¯s dark!¡± They laughed together.


    Jakob did indeed wake from the coma, with a new look upon his previous actions. When Livia went to visit him, initially planning an apology, she was stopped by his humility. He was partially awake throughout, though his body would not respond. During that time he reflected on his actions, and what he had done to lead him to such punishment. He surmised his previous fame got to his head, thinking he had effectively earned the rewards for the future. Which in this case, ended up including an independent, sentient being. People are not plaques to be placed upon walls to say ¡®This is mine, now¡¯, a fundamental fact that he had forgotten.


    During his recovery, his leg never worked again. This confounded the shamans, which ultimately led to them diagnosing spiritual damage. So much more than his pride had been taken to task, and he carried with him a little limp to the point of needing a cane. He essentially retired from being the top warlord for his tribe and became a strategist to remain on the backline and use his previous knowledge to help future generals. He would effectively carry this mistake for the rest of his immortal life.


    Astrid and Livia continued to live well. Astrid had her own hovel within the mountain proper which she kept, it was about as small as Livia¡¯s previous shack so did not take up much space and was never pressured to give it up for the sake of their union. They eventually wed after a few months, and did what they thought they couldn¡¯t do: They formally began the White Wolf tribe. It was always to be kept very small but as the years went by her cabin had houses crop up around it, as there was plenty of forest and land to do so.


    Livia¡¯s trauma was always something she carried, but Astrid was always close by to help ground her. The panic attacks never went away but they became less severe. Still, she was always considered a distant leader by tribal standards. Remaining neutral, not stepping on any boundaries. Livia¡¯s tribe, name, and fame were a gift to Astrid for her wishes to be a part of her own tribe rather than just being a hunter for one. So despite the tribe being under Livia¡¯s name, Astrid was the de-facto leader that everyone went to, which is exactly what they both wanted.


    Beyond that, they lived very happily. There was always the question of why white wolves were rendered insane, and there were still a few out in the world, mindlessly prowling the planet¡¯s forests. The source of the sickness was not discovered for some time, but Livia had little interest in it. She kept to herself and her wife, because that was all that concerned her.