Commission by  K9Lupus story by me

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The Transition
by K9Lupus


Drab, dreary gray walls peppered by peeling corners of paint, some missing, others layered on top of their neighbors in a flaky, inedible cake lined the hallways of the mental ward. The air chimed with the distant wailing of one of the inmates. Foghorn, the guards had called him. The sleek pair of Dr. Lancaster's polished black shoes clacked unerringly through the space, his lone escort grinning as he ushered him around the hall.

“Special spot for a special kind of person, even for us here. Best of luck,” the orderly said, taking a step back to allow Dr. Lancaster entry.

“Thank you. Please wait out here though. First impressions are important, and he's had no history of violent action towards others.”

The orderly furrowed his brow, shrugged his shoulders, then spun around to lean against the adjacent wall. He wasn't paid enough to get his blood pressure out of sorts arguing with a shrink.

Dr. Lancaster opened the reinforced door and stepped into a small hole of a room devoid of the color and pleasantries of life. The air was even more stagnant here somehow despite the open, barred window. Then he saw him. The man who had taken it upon himself to become a wolf.

He was huddled in the far corner of the room, curled up into a loose ball with his head leaned back against the metal post of a corner of his bed, staring through the bars up into the afternoon sky. His eyes were wild, crimson rubies framed by tufts of a dark gray and black spattering around them that led to shaggy, unkempt brows. A quiet tap, thwap sound was heard in from the steady, unyielding movements of the man's partially furred tail that swept back and forth across the ground behind him. Other scattered patches of fur-like growth were present across his body, and as he idly flexed his rounded, thick-set toes in an almost child-like manner, Dr. Lancaster observed a fleeting, fragile sense of hope trembling within those red eyes of his, the most he could ascribe to anything or anyone within the asylum.

“Hello Patrick. My name is Dr. Simon Lancaster. I'm here to speak with you for a little while today.” the man said as he edged to the corner of the room and sat within the soft chair with rounded-off, plastic bottoms.

“Zeydaan. That's the name I use now. It's the new me,” the man asserted.

“Ok Zeydaan,” Dr. Lancaster quickly pivoted. “I'm glad to have your time today.”

“My parents send you?” Zeydaan asked without turning his head or moving any other unnecessary muscle in his body.

“In full disclosure, yes. They felt my services would be beneficial to you, but I'm more interested in hearing what you think will be helpful for you right now. It's been brought to my attention that you've been finding means of being able to continue the Species Reassignment Procedure doses on your own.”

The tapping of Zeydaan's feet stopped. “You're going to try to keep me from becoming more like myself aren't you?”

“Right now all I'm here to do is learn and listen. I'm very good in those two respects if you give me the chance to prove that to you. When you say that, 'becoming more like myself', what does that mean to you?”

“Can't you see it on my body already?” Zeydaan said, still seated in the same spot.

“I can't see much right now, especially with you turned away from me. I would really appreciate getting the chance to see your face if you were comfortable doing so.”

Zeydaan sighed. “They're always asking the same thing to me. Fine. What hurt will one more time do?”

Zeydaan gathered himself up and slowly spun around in such a way so his flexed wrists supported his cheeks. He looked positively bored, but there was nothing boring for Dr. Lancaster about the strange amalgamation of person and wolf scattered in varying degrees about Zeydaan's face. Zeydaan gave a cursory sniff in Dr. Lancaster's direction with a dark, wet nose, and the broad ends of his pointed ears lay partway back against his skull.

“About what you were expecting?” Zeydaan said, staring off in Dr. Lancaster's general direction, completely devoid of any discernible emotion.

“I'm open to new experiences.” Dr. Lancaster answered with an edge of a smile on his face. “I can tell you this though; I am glad that we're face to face now, so thank you for that.”

“So what is it we're supposed to be talking about together? What gets this done faster?”

“About anything you feel like sharing.”

Zeydaan swayed his head from side to side as if savoring the taste of a new fruit.

“Can we start with how ridiculous it is that my own parents sent me here?”

“You tell me how that felt for you when that happened. Did the choice seem ridiculous at the time?”

Zeydaan wrestled with his response, his fingers pressing down into the material of the bed and leaving small furrows there with his set of blunted claws.

“In some ways yes, in other ways no. More to the yes column though. Most parents are supposed to give their kids love, but they couldn't see past their worries.”

“Sometimes when people feel worried they may act in a way that doesn't make sense to us. What makes you say those worried feelings kept them from giving you love?” Dr. Lancaster said, leaning a bit forward in his seat.

“They told me that I was throwing away my humanity by turning into this. They've got their noses too far up those supposedly infallible books to see anything beyond it.”

“Which books are you talking about Zeydaan?”

“The church ones. Even this place is funded by 'em don't you know? It's incredible how deep its roots work into whole communities if its allowed to.”

“So if my understanding is correct, your parents are fairly religious people?”

“Fairly would be the understatement of the century. They thought I was possessed by the devil until they caught up to speed on SRP actually being a thing.”

“I'm sorry that they weren't able to give you more understanding at that time. But Zeydaan, I think for me to really understand more of your situation better, I need to know what happened before that led to you being here right now.”

“You in for the long haul?” Zeydaan asked, his ears tentatively lifting forward.

“I've got nowhere else to be. So tell me, what happened?”

*******

“Before I say anything else, you have to first understand that people take being human as the norm for granted. I've never felt comfortable in my skin. Ever since I was little I thought that by being the model student and the ideal son that I could come to grow into my place and accept what I am, but these otherly feelings only got stronger with time. I could never come to meet their expectations, so instead I had to focus on what I wanted for myself, and what I wanted was to not worry about my place or the way I led my life.

Just to give you an example, mirrors are a big challenge for me. They don't have to be the huge ones at home. Side view mirrors in cars, or even the reflection on my own phone all cause the same effect. I didn't have any peace looking at that image of my old self. I never believed for a second the human looking back at me was the real me. My reflection was a mocking, taunting lie, but at the same time it was only an image.

The fear was worse each time knowing I would have to look down and see my hands, my actual hands, and face the horrid reality of myself. I could barely even touch anywhere on my body if I could help it. My skin felt unnervingly smooth and alien, like I was wearing a dried-out latex suit covering what should have been. I had to take that feeling with me to all sorts of different places: school, restaurants, family outings. Everyone always called me “the weird one”, but I was just spending all of my mental energy trying to make sense of a world that had misplaced me.

Maybe things wouldn't have gotten as bad as they did if someone would have asked 'Hey, how's everything going?', but none of that happened, at least not that I can remember.”

Dr. Lancaster mulled over Zeydaan's statements, and quietly offered his response. “I can see how going through an extended time of hardship could lead to you feeling that way. Have you considered that these disillusioned feelings of your identity might have a place in another aspect of yourself? I do agree with you. Humanity has committed some truly heinous and despicable acts, and wanting to remove yourself from that perceived line can be quite appealing. Changing species would be the furthest extreme of that wish.”

“It's the most complete one.” Zeydaan answered flatly.

“I've had so many different dreams of becoming something else, something other than human. Most often it's been a shape kin to this,” Zeydaan said, indicating his furred hands. “At first I used to think in those dreams that I was running away from something, but it's only now that I realize what my true intentions then were. I was running towards a new way of being, and that fear that I felt coursing through my body then...that was merely the excitement of the prospects of reclaiming my identity. It's so close now. I can feel it.”

It was the most excitement Dr. Lancaster had heard from Zeydaan, and he watched as the edges of Zeydaan's lips trembled into the faint crease of smile before vanishing.

“Have you thought of the fact that once this process is completed you may not be able to think with this manner of thought? Your behaviors, your reasoning, they may very well become those of the lupine shape you are coming to adopt. Reality is colored by our beliefs, but it can only shift so far from our experiences. There's a chance that there could be a big disconnect between what you believe this experience will be like, and what will actually come to fruition.”

“Whatever reality has in store for me, I'll gladly face it. It's by my own making after all. I can already feel the instincts seeping in. It's like a cool mist that unfurls everything it touches. They take the knots away that get us stuck moving through life, like an autopilot without any fear of the judgments that keep us from acting in the way wish too.”

“An impulsiveness?” Dr. Lancaster asked.

“Action unfiltered,” Zeydaan clarified.

“I see. Is it ok if I move the chair a little closer? That breeze coming through the windows feels really great right now.” Dr. Lancaster asked, one hand tracing over the leading plastic rim of his seat.

“Yeah, that's fine. The window is the best thing about being here.”

A good sign, Dr. Lancaster thought as he edged closer.

“So far you've shared quite a bit, and I appreciate that a lot, but what I'd like for us to explore more specifically is the exact situation that began your transformation. What started the change in making Zeydaan real?

*******

“It all started back in my little coastal town. Grew up there my whole life and saw just enough other places to know how boring it was. I was wandering off after my last college class for the day to blow off some steam mucking about around the docks. As I was going by, I saw these two dogs cross the road out of nowhere that nearly got hit by a speeding truck. They had collars on 'em so I knew they had to belong to someone. I thought about trying to find a dish of water, or food, a blanket, something for 'em, but they kept walking by and no one else was around.

I couldn't shake out of my head how close a it had been with 'em nearly getting taken out by that truck. There was no way I could bring myself to walk away from 'em and then wake up the next day reading about a pair of missing animals in the newspaper. At the very least I thought if I could catch up to one of 'em and get a look at their tags maybe there would be a number or address to identify 'em.

So I decided to trail 'em for a little ways. Let me tell you that when a dog does not want to be caught it will make that need very clearly shown to you. I followed the pair into a dump site, and they disappeared behind this huge pile of trash. I climbed up after 'em, hoping to get some good vantage from higher up, but midway through my climb I remember getting my hand spiked on a stray syringe.

The pain wasn't too bad, but when you get hurt by anything out in the middle of a dump, your brain immediately goes to the worst. Most of the label on the syringe had been worn away, but I could still make out the letters “SRP” on it followed by scraps of a testing number. A few drips of blue fluid sloshed around inside the needle. I managed to carefully stash it in my pocket and continue going after the dogs. My brain was stuck on wanting to help them and actually feel useful for a change.

After I got stuck with the needle, there was this strange feeling like jelly poured into my hands and my feet, and then in my chest too. Something clicked inside of me and all of that tension I've talked to you about went away. I felt like I was on air, and my mind was clear and free of those shortcomings and self-reprimands. It was gone just long enough for me to miss it when it came rushing back a minute later. I saw the dogs down there below me and called out to 'em, and suddenly now they responded to me.

They wheeled around the corner and I thought, 'This is it. This is how I'm going to go being mauled by two dogs in a junkyard. But they sat at my feet with those big dopey paws and panting tongues like they were waiting for me. I reached a hand out, petted them. All that good stuff, and I Pied Pipered 'em out of there. The bigger black dog did have an address on his tag, and two miles of backtracking led me to their home.

The owner was so grateful.” Zeydaan stopped speaking, his ears pinned flat to his skull as his hands pressed hard against each other. His brow knitted tight, and with a deep exhale he released the tension in his body.

“He said that they had dug their way out under the new fence they had just installed. I felt like I had done some real good in the world for change, and I wanted more of that feeling. That night out there in the junkyard changed me. Not as drastically as how I look right now, but it made me realize that these feelings had a place and that they had been preparing me for this great transition I'm experiencing now.”

“That's quite an incredible experience. So then how did you come to realize the nature of what was transpiring for you? It's my understanding that with this emergent SRP technology it's not simply a one-and-done type of affair, correct?”

“That's right Mr. Lancaster.”

Dr. Lancaster bit back his tongue in wanting to make the automatic correction, and continued to listen to the wolf-man speak.

*******

“When I got back home that night I told my parents about my run in at the dump. There wasn't any hiding that smell when I walked in the door. I told them I had gotten cut on some metal there, and they they insisted I go to a doctor. Next day, I had an appointment set up, and by the end of the week I was there at the office being seen. I had already been noticing small indicators of the change beginning to take place: extra tufts of hair, the pointed edges of my ears, and my darkened nails. I thought what had been in the syringe might have been hormonal, and privately I shared what actually had transpired with my doctor.

Thankfully, they were familiar with the SRP serum being developed from GenUCore and had been able to list off the strange symptoms I was experiencing. A few tests later and she confirmed that a hearty amount of it was already coursing through way my bloodstream altering my genetic structure. At this point it was recommended that I continue the regiment by whatever means as abruptly stopping had been shown to have dramatic declines in health from the body failing to support mixed species anatomy over longer periods of time.

The doctor pulled a few strings for me and was able to get a generalized dose regiment delivered to the office within a few days. I don't know what kind of influence she had to be able to make something like that happen since most SRP stuff is still pretty hush hush, but I didn't question it, and I especially didn't say anything to my parents. Even though fate had given me a ticket now to the identity I knew was always lurking inside me, I still carried this nagging sense of obligation to them. You asked me earlier how I was continuing to change while I've been here, and the truth is that before I was sent here I had already taken my full regiment. My best guess is that the body can only absorb so much of the stuff at a given time, but since it all hangs out until it's needed anyway, it's not a big deal. The doses are really only there in case people want to backtrack, and that's not my plan so it's not an issue.

But man, there's no words to describe that first time where I did it of my own volition. I knew there would be no turning back, but none of that mattered because it was the most control of my life I had ever experienced. And I wanted more.”

Zeydaan had now taken to standing up before laying perpendicularly across his bed, looking at Dr. Lancaster with an intrigued, craving depth to his gaze, like a ravenous hunter assessing its prey.

“So how long did you keep taking SRP before your parents found out about it?” Dr. Lancaster said without picking up his eyes from his notepad. Zeydaan grinned with a flash of tooth and fang.

“Long enough to need to make some substantial external changes to keep my secret hidden with my parents and at school. Nothing some baggy clothes and a few extra accessories couldn't handle. When the tail and fur started really coming in that was a tricky patch, but I made it work. I tell you though, it was when the dreams starting changing too that it became most interesting.”

“In what way was it interesting for you?” Dr. Lancaster remarked, drawing two separate double-headed arrows on the page with a question mark between them.

“Oh they were so much more vivid and alive Simon! It's ok if I call you Simon right? No one's ever listened to me quite like this before, and I feel like that's something that friends typically do together. Talk.”

“I prefer Dr. Lancaster. Simon works for now. What I'm more interested in at the moment though is learning about these dreams of yours. You've had similar ones before the change?” Dr. Lancaster deflected, shooting back a stare as striking as Zeydaan's had been.

“Nothing like what was happening then and now. When I'd start tearing off in those dreams: in a forest, by a lakeside, across a mountain, on all-fours mind you with no issue at all, all of those feelings of becoming a wolf would come rushing through me. It was a rebirth, like a phoenix or something that....that you only know has happened after the fact. I'd wake up in this immense bliss as if I caught a little teeny, tiny preview of what was in store for my future, and I relished in that hope. Having hope can drive people to do any number of strange things Simon.”

“But you didn't end up leaving your parents' household during that time? Why?” Dr. Lancaster inquired, drawing a new arrow and box on his filling page.

“Maybe it was because I was conditioned, self-imposed mind you, of their possible reaction. I already told you earlier they believed a strict set of principles and that anything outside those bounds was at best frowned upon, and at worst excluded entirely. I didn't want to become part of the latter group. I couldn't bear the thought of them somehow stopping or reversing my treatment and taking it all away from. I couldn't let them take away my hope from me, but I couldn't go either. I was still their son, and I wasn't ready to leave them, not all the way. The beautiful thing about SRP is that it takes time to happen, but it also gives time too. Time to take care of everything you need to before you can't anymore.”

Zeydaan's ears pinned back again as he buried his face into the bed sheets and growled a rumbling sound that filled the room.

“I'm sorry that this has been so tough on you. Would you like us to stop for today?”

Zeydaan bunched an edge of the sheets into a loose clump and wiped at his eyes before regaining his composure.

“No, not yet.” He rolled up to sit on the bed after that, his legs dangling off the edge while his hands rubbed up and down through the gray covering of fur atop his legs.

“When the changes started coming on faster I noticed I was beginning to pull away more. You'd probably call that dissociate. The other guards do. Anyway, it wasn't only in the dreams now that I was forgetting which species I was supposed to be. Now I cradled that feeling with me into each and every waking step throughout his day. I remember my body feeling this immense heaviness, like I was stuck in quicksand. And I wanted to sink into it so bad. I still do sometimes. I was numb to everything else that wanted to try and reach in because if for all this time nothing had been able to, why should I have even bothered trying now?

And that's not even me saying it was a bad feeling. It was tough, but it was real, and knowing I was starting to learn about my true self in a way I had never before actually made me happy in all of that frustration. It was like there was a body beyond my actual body, a cloak of light that flowed and fluxed like a phantom limb that was of me but existed on its own too. It wanted to try to network back up with the rest of me to finally be understood, but it didn't know how to cross the gap. Me changing, becoming a wolf through SRP was bridging that divide. That's what I feel anyway. I probably sound twisted backwards to you right now.”

“You sound like you are figuring some things out for yourself.” Dr. Lancaster said, and Zeydaan noticed that the line of the man's mouth had upturned into a subdued smile. However, Zeydaan's shoulders slumped down as he looked at his claw-tipped fingers.


“But just as I was figuring out all of that was when things got really bad. I already told you about the dreams, but then I started to wander around at night acting them out. I would wake up in odd places in my room curled up on the floor or wake up suddenly after bumping into something from one of my dream runs. I had forgotten to lock the sliding glass door one night and so during one of my dreams, I actually left my room.

I didn't come to until I felt the evening breeze over my skin, and the first thing I remembered seeing was the smiling face of the crescent moon in the sky. Honestly, it was the first smile shown to me in the whole day. That's when I broke.

I remember my head tilting back and loosing this huge, howling cry out towards the moon. But it wasn't meant for the moon. It was a sound that was supposed to go beyond it and find whatever it was that made me feel connected to something outside myself again. There was this flood of yellow light in the backyard, and my parents were there thinking some lunatic was trespassing. Low and behold it's just their son, but everything was there for them to see. The secret was done.

My dad, he didn't get it right away. 'What in the world are you doing Patrick?' he had yelled at me. 'You're going to wake the whole neighborhood doing stuff like that!' Then my mom really took a look at me, saw my differences, and I remember that horror in her eyes. That disgust. At that point I was broken to her. She went limp right there against the glass door. Dad freaked out, and it was a whole mess after that.

'I can't handle this anymore. Get to your room, shut your yapping and we'll figure this out in the morning.'

I spilled the beans the next day, and at first I was surprised that my parents were trying. They didn't understand why I was becoming the way I was. They kept telling me to not give up on things I'd taken for granted my whole life being a person, but then they grew tired of that. And when they were tired, they got frustrated. And after they got frustrated...they gave up. They gave up on me.”

Zeydaan's final words were spoken in a choked sob, and he collapsed into himself, drawing up into a tight ball. Several seconds passed like this, and against Dr. Lancaster's training, he set his notepad down and stood to close the gap between he and the man-wolf. He placed a hand on Zeydaan's shoulder. His fur was warm in the sunlight coming in through the window.

“You made it this far Zeydaan. That's all been you. There's more past this struggle if you can hold onto the strength to get there,” Dr. Lancaster said.

Zeydaan only gave a couple of short nods. “You're right,” he kept mumbling under his breath.

“This SRP that you've been undergoing for yourself is a new technology, a new way of being, and anything that is new can sometimes cause rifts to form, even between those that we love. Their reactions are not your fault, but your actions are your own. Your parents carried that fear of uncertainty, and I think in our conversation today we've begun to really touch on what else may be going on at the same time.”

Zeydaan's brow furrowed, and the hackles on the back of his neck stood on end. Still Dr. Lancaster stayed at the wolf-man's side.

“What should my parents have done. What would you have done if you were in their place instead?”

“That's not for me to say. My time right now has been and is to help you understand why things have happened and how there can still be a plan for a future with you in it.”

“You say that like I'm dying Simon.” Zeydaan answered back in a defeated tone.

“I think you can reason where I'm coming from when I say at least a part of you, your physical self, is changing forever. To finish undergoing this procedure would not leave you as the person you have been for the vast majority of your life. It would be a reset button, a rebirth like you said, but the honest truth is even scientists working on this don't know all the answers yet. Only you will with time.”

“I think I'm done now for today.” Zeydaan said, laying back against his bed. “This was different though. Will you be back tomorrow Simon?”

“Not tomorrow, but I'll be back to visit again soon. I promise. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me today.”

The older man lifted himself off the bed with a bit of effort and went to gather up his belongings stashed at the chair.

“Dr. Lancaster?” Zeydaan asked, his eyes still fixated towards the ceiling.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” the wolf-man said, lifting his head enough to catch sight of the older man adorning his long, brown coat.

“You're very welcome Zeydaan,” he replied as he gently closed the door behind him.

*******

Several more conversations between the two took place this way with Dr. Lancaster coming to know more and more about the reasoning behind Zeydaan's decision to leave his old self behind. During their continued meetings Dr. Lancaster had great difficulty not immediately taking notice of the continued suite of changes rampaging across Zeydaan's body. Often Dr. Lancaster was met with Zeydaan's resistance to alternative perspectives he proposed. So deep was the increasingly more wolf than man's perceptions of exclusion as a means of self-preservation that he feared a significant breakthrough was futile at best. So it was that yet again, Dr. Lancaster found himself at another impasse today.

“I understand what you're wanting to accomplish for yourself in becoming a wolf Zeydaan, but I want to reinforce again you are choosing a path that is against the grain of society. SRP is a young process, and as such is the case with new and novel ideas and conventions there is the chance of being misunderstood in its pursuit. You've explained yourself well to me, and I empathize with you as someone wanting to do better for themself. You are challenging the prejudices and misconceptions of communities. There is risk in a path like that, courage too.

We have been talking for a while now, and I imagine it must get frustrating at times to bring it up so often, but it remains true. What is it that you want Zeydaan?”

Zeydaan groaned, tossing himself back on the bed.

“Honestly and truly Simon?”

“I value your opinion, so yes.”

“Just more time with you before I lose what's left.”

The words had trickled free from his thoughts, unfiltered as a pure expression of emotional instinct. Now it was Dr. Lancaster who needed to practice the reorientation techniques he had instilled towards the disruptive thoughts within the more-wolf-than-man.

“Then you have to let me know what you'd like this time to be. You're leading right now whether you believe it or not.”



*******

Dr. Lancaster noticed that Zeydaan was phasing out of active participation in their meetings more and more as time went on, and it was with a aching pang that he watched as the clutched hope in his eyes eroded into quiet acceptance. They both knew what lay at the terminus of this sole path available to Zeydaan now, though neither were the more comforted for it.

There was one day in particular when Dr. Lancaster had dropped by for a visit with Zeydaan and he spied him huddled over his desk crying. The pencils and pens that normally sat neat and tidy in a discarded jelly container on top of his desk were scattered about the floor. Paper had been flung in every direction. Zeydaan's ears swiveled in Dr. Lancaster's direction and he loosed a loud growl at him immediately followed by an exhausted whine as he licked his nose.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just....I can't even draw anymore. My hands are too stiff.” he said, lifting up his veritable paws.

Dr. Lancaster nodded, imagining this event was coming sooner or later since he had shown hints of preference towards a quadrupedal gait the majority of the time now.

“It's ok. That would be really frustrating for me too. I tell you what, I'm not the best artist in the world, but would it help if you told me what to draw, and I give that my best shot for our time today?”

“I've never done that before.”

“Neither have I. Let's give it a try today and see how it goes. How about it?”

Zeydaan looked as relieved as someone nearly a wolf could show on their face. He stepped back, low to the ground in an all-fours gait before leaping up onto the bed and laying down there.

Dr. Lancaster drew the thoughts and wishes of Zeydaan then, being particularly proud of the small, beach landscape featuring he and Zeydaan approaching a rocky shore in a rough, sketchy approximation. Dr. Lancaster pulled a small tab of tape and hung the drawing at his desk before looking down to his watch to see that their time was up. Dr. Lancaster walked with a cheery, youthful air back to the entrance of the asylum that day, revisiting the image of Zeydaan's gesturing paws and broad smile with pride.

However, the perceived breakthrough was fleeting. The next time Dr. Lancaster saw Zeydaan he did not talk. He couldn't anymore. He simply sat curled against the corner of the room, the sheets from his bed pulled over in a messy approximation of a fort, or more aptly a den more suitable for his wild self. Dr. Lancaster was allowed in, but could find no words of praise of comfort to offer the nearly-all-wolf and simply sat in silent company with him, idly stroking through the thickened scruff of his neck.

“Remember, you're not alone,” Dr. Lancaster said at the end of their meeting before turning away from Zeydaan and closing the reinforced door behind him for the very last time.

*******

At the end, Zeydaan, now fully a wolf, was unable to remain in the care of the asylum and was escorted from the premises by animal control. He gave no fight, nor even threatened a growl as the officers whisked him away. The officers thought him a simple animal, but he was simply living, quietly observing through the fur-cloak of his abandoned humanity. He lived out the next year of his life at a wolf rehabilitation sanctuary, and in some respects he was happy there.

He ate as the other wolves ate, ran as they ran, and even joined in collective howls with his makeshift pack, but one of the rehabilitation workers, keen to the ways of wild things saw that there was an element still left unfulfilled within Zeydaan. He wrestled with the decision for weeks, but eventually came to dial the number of someone he had been told was quite familiar with his case.

So it came to be that late at night an older gentleman with wrinkles at the edges of his eyes visited the wolf sanctuary and came to find Zeydaan there. His time at the sanctuary had left him lean with the same flowing, ethereal quality most other wolves possessed in their curious explorations. Zeydaan the wolf sniffed at the edges of the enclosure of the sanctuary and remembered this particular man's scent. He gazed up at him, hope rekindled again in his crimson eyes. It was the man who had listened.

“My friend let me know that another friend was in need right now. Come on. You'll be staying with me.”

Dr. Lancaster loaded Zeydaan into the back of his truck and away they peeled into the night. They arrived at his estate some time later in the early hours of the morning. His home was grand and luxurious, filled with all manner of finery and pleasure of the eyes and senses. Zeydaan tentatively padded alongside the man, taking in the glittering sight of so much bounty.

“It's funny that of all these things I've gotten over these many years, none have interested me so much as you had. That unbreakable spirit you carry was something truly remarkable for me to take note of. It takes courage to go against all of humanity for the sake of yourself. I wanted to honor that for you in this way. You can still understand all of what I'm saying right now can't you?”

Zeydaan's mouth hung open, his tongue lolled free as his lips pulled back into a wolfy smile. Dr. Lancaster led them both to a fire-lit den and sat himself upon his favorite armchair. Zeydaan stood a few feet away, quietly watching.

“So, would you like to listen to an old man's tale now? We can start from there. I'd say you've waited long enough for it to be your turn.”

Zeydaan's ears pressed forward and he padded closer to the man before laying down beneath a stained-glass table. Looming tall against the corner of the room, a burnished gold banister shined bright with Zeydaan's reflection, and as he stared at it now containing the image of the man there too, there was a newfound ease in his heart.

“Don't worry. I'll make sure everything is ok now. We'll learn together, you and I, about one another and the ways by which life comes to know itself.”