CAINE
Bodies lie scattered around us, some moving, most still.
Fenris, sensing my intention, shrinks himself down to a less imposing size—though still massive by any normal wolf standard. The blue glow around him dims to a gentle aura as he pants, surveying our carnage with grim satisfaction.
I let my shift reverse, bones cracking back into human form. Changing when wounded is never recommended, as it can make everything worse. Pain radiates through my body as wounds reshape themselves. My vision clears from wolf to human.
A Fiddleback nearby twitches, trying to crawl away. I stride toward it, naked and bloodied but unconcerned with such trivial matters. My foot connects with its ribs—not hard enough to break, just enough to turn it over.
"Shift." The word carries only a whisper of my dominance, but it's enough.
