A follow up of the wizard contemplating his choice to join the pack with the rogue and the fighter. I listed this as transformation, but it’s more of a transformation aftermath.

First part of the story can be found here:
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/60688069/

Enjoy!

If You Can’t Beat Them 2

Andrew sat atop the rock, looking at the other wolves of the pack lounging down below. The raised position above the ruins was one of his favorite spots to get away. There were a few things he realized after his transformation after the first week of the new form.

From the first day he knew the spell granted him an instinctive understanding of the speech of the species he had become. His brain simply turned the sounds and postures into common so that he could understand

The second thing was that the spell invested him with a need to stay near the ruined castle and guard the territory. If he went too far away from it, he started to feel sick until he got closer again. He had hoped he might be able to visit another wizard to get a cure for his condition, but he didn’t dare press too far in case the sickness became fatal.

Third, the leaders of the pack were transformed folks like them. Those transformed aged like humans, which meant they seemed like immortals to the naturally born wolves. At least a few from any group of explorers were herded into the scroll room to try and turn them in order to keep the divine bloodlines diverse. He rested his head down on his paws with a huff.

Fourth, he was an awful wolf. Pete and Alice were excellent physically as humans, and it translated into their wolf forms. In comparison to the others in the pack he was scrawny. His status as one of the divine was the only thing that kept the true wolves from picking on him. So he sat alone and watched them all from above, seeing the one thing none of them could. Between every wolf, between every flower, between every blade of grass was the sheen of the magic which connected them. Tiny threads of what held reality together that he used to be able to manipulate as a wizard to do all sorts of miraculous things. If he hadn’t been exhausted when engaging the wolves, perhaps his party might have escaped instead of joining them. Now he was able to see a power that he wasn’t able to use. He reached up a paw, and touched a thread. Even though he could perhaps catch it with a claw, there was no way he would be able to chant the words that would allow him to cast magic now. A mage who was silenced was no mage at all. He rested his head on his paws with sigh, closing his eyes as he thought about that fact. A mage who was silenced was no mage. Except for runic mages. Those who grabbed the threads of creation and forced them into the words of power to create crude, but powerful magical effects. Such practices were outlawed hundreds of years ago however. Any mage caught using runic magic was likely to be hunted down and clapped in a prison with a magic dampener around their neck. Some said because it was dangerous, others because it was so easy to manipulate even those simply aware of the threads could possibly use it, and the wizards wanted to keep their powers away from the common person.

Andrew opened his eyes and stared at the threads of magic in front of him. Any mage who was caught. What type of person would come to the cursed tower to hunt down a wolf runic mage? He held up his paw and caught the strand with the tip of one of his claws. He began pulling it into the shape of the sigil he remembered from his lessons on magical history. Despite being illegal, students were required to learn the runes at the academy and what they did. They might be required to apprehend a runic mage one day after all. Not knowing what they were telegraphing for the world to see was simply walking into a battle ill prepared. The strand struggled against him as he forced it into the shape. Then, as it was released it snapped back into the place it had originally been, purging itself of the magic he had imbued in it to create the effect he desired. His target was a piece of a fallen tree down below. His mouth hung open and he began panting heavily as the trunk of the tree blasted apart from a sudden blast of wind. The sound caused a fair share of lazily resting wolves to rise to their feet and yelp in alarm. The pack descended on the place in confusion. Alice was one of the first ones there. She eyed the destruction, then looked up at the rock where Andrew lounged. He nodded to her, and she turned to explain to the others that there was nothing to be afraid of. It was one of the divine flexing his powers to practice their use for the good of the pack. He rested his head back on his paws, feeling quite content with himself. Though he was certain he would be getting visited by some of the other divinities this evening, and be forced to explain everything that had happened.

He wondered if he was actually the only wolf that could see the threads. Well, even if he was the only one, this pack was going to have some nasty surprises for any unfortunate humans that came wandering into their territory in the future, as well as something that would give him a unique place as the first wizard among wolves.