Turning Tables on the Princess

For weeks my she-wolf had been writhing beneath my skin. Stretching it and making it itch everywhere.

I preferred my human form but knew it was unhealthy to never unleash the beast.

But I didn't fully realize the ramifications until I fell asleep in my bed as usual but woke in the bailey, my feet muddied. And I couldn't remember where I'd gone.

Scared to death I crawled from the dirt and looked around. Finding only one disapproving set of eyes.

He was squatted along the wall near me. Nest to the steps of the castle entrance. I leaned up on an elbow and stared at him in horror.

"Did you do this?"

"No." He was sharpening a blade on a wet stone and didn't even bother to look up.

"Can I believe you."

"Yep."

"Then how'd I get out here?"

"If I had to hazard a guess," He lifted the blade and turned it in the dim morning light. Inspecting it. "I'd say you deprived your she-wolf too long of her form. So, she stole it in your sleep."

"No." I breathed. Sitting up and scooting further away from him.

But the reality was I'd heard of such things before. Marta had told me that it could happen.

Even with the Asara Pack, I'd refrained from taking wolf form as often as possible.

"It is not healthy to restrain her like that."

"I'll decide what's healthy for my body." I hissed acidly.

He eyed me askance. "How is that faring for you thus far?"

Not well. I'm out here.

His meaning wasn't lost on me.

But I'd rather rot alive than admit it to him.

His face was hard as he met my look. He stood and strode from the corner.

"What were you doing out here?" I called after him.

"What do you damn well think I was doing, Lara?"

Protecting me?