text: You know you have to get out of here, and you only have one option. The beast inside you knows that's true as well, as you find yourself growling and shaking. The scent of blood and fresh flesh drives you wild, and you're reminded that you haven't eaten in a while. Your stomach rumbles, as you think back to the taste of flesh earlier, the warm, wet meat sliding down your throat. 
  
  You need to turn. You have no other option. You grip your nails into your wrist, tearing at your flesh as blood begins to trickle down your wrist. Your roar of pain turns into a growl, as you find hair beginning to sprout from your skin. The scent of your own blood sends your muscles into spasms, as you collapse onto the floor. Your clothes tear from your body as you grow, falling in tatters as your shotgun slips from your fingers, which tear into knife-like claws. Flesh tears and knits, your teeth shattering and growing in your mouth as you rake your claws through your mouth, pieces of broken teeth and torn apart gums toppling out as you spit blood onto the ground with a maniacal laugh. 
  
  You retract onto your hind-legs, standing tall as you scream... no, not scream. Howl, howl at the sky. Feeling enclosed in the man-made structure, you tear forward, smashing your claw against the lock in the door, tearing it free from the wooden frame as you leap outwards, hurrying into the darkness. 
  
  Through your bestial eyes, you can make out the distant shapes of fur-covered beasts. The wolves' scents are easy to catch, and you mentally mark their locations. The desire to feast, to fight, to hunt and to kill burns through your heart and soul, as adrenaline surges through you. These other creatures are far weaker than you, with duller, more bestial, not even taking into account the fact that Fenrir only had weak, slow humans to transform unlike the man you once were, a Hunter.
  
  In short, you are strong. They are weak, and your belly is empty.
  
  However, a nagging voice, one last ounce of broken, disregarded sanity screams at you to run. The scent of coal and ash is ever so faint on the trail, but you have an urge to follow it, however small. 
  > flee
  For some strange reason beyond instinct nor desperation, you decide to retreat into the darkness of the woods, breaking off towards the woods. Adrenaline fuels your movements as you race into the shadows. One of the beasts attempts to stop you, planting down its feet as it howls at you, but its easy prey. You swipe the werewolf's forelegs away, sending it collapsing forward. You grab its skull, smacking it into the earth with every ounce of strength you can muster, crushing its skull beneath your claw. 
  
  Another werewolf leaps at you, jaws open, so you swing your claw, slashing through its eyes and blinding him instantly, leaving it yelping and whimpering. You growl, ready to leap forward and finish off the beast, before the voice in the back of your head stops you. Sniffing, you focus past the smell of fresh blood and of the beast's pure terror, smelling the faint, almost impossible to detect scent of coal. Your mind feels a second of focus and clarity, as you swivel on your legs and disappear into the forest.
  
  Sprinting through the trees, you feel free. The smells and scents of the woods give you a clear image of your surroundings, and your lungs fill with the cool air. The coal dust's bare scent guiding your path, you draw towards it, eager to reach the...
  
  Your mind draws a blank on your goal, before a new, far more pungent smell fills your nostrils. Prey.
  
  The easily recognizable scent of a prey animal catches you. The sweat and scent of fear and terror. The fresh blood from a recently injured animal. The guarantee of a kill, and more importantly, food. Your stomach rumbles, pangs of hunger hitting you like a knife, drawing your attention away from the coal, as your eyes fix on the direction of your prey.
  > hunt!
  Your legs kick off the dirt, as you hurry after your prey. Rushing through the trees, you fly forward with a speed beyond what any natural creature of flesh and blood could keep up, diving over roots and ducking under branches. The prey pops into your vision, the pale outline of the predator making your mouth water. It's injured, slow and weak, and an easy kill. It's barely had time to notice you, before you're upon it.
  
  HUNT! KILL! FEED!
  
  You hit the creature with all the force of over hundreds of pounds of muscle and fur. You smash into the creature, knocking it into the dirt as its bones shatter and break beneath you. Pinning the creature to the ground, you slide a claw across it, tearing through its thick, blackened hide and releasing a burst of blood and guts, fluid filling the creature's collapsing lungs. 
  
  You raise your head towards the sky, howling towards the moon in victory, the burning pain in your chest having dissipated. For the first time since Fenrir first called, you feel truly strong! Powerful! WILD!
  
  Victory. Power. Blood. Hate. Anger! Hunger! Feed! HUNT! KILL! EAT!
  
  You look down to your prey, grinning from ear to ear. Time to feast!
  > kILL!
  Suddenly, pain, burning, all-consuming pain surges through your flesh, turning your blood to fire as you scream out in pain, howling upwards to the moon, wishing its light could wash you clean from this fiery hell.
  
  You collapse off your prey, your once mighty stature shrinking to that of a tiny, weak, terrified human. Lying in your warm blood, you gasp for air, feeling your body set alight, your pain barely dulled by the moon's light. 
  
  "W-w... William?" a voice gasps. 
  
  Your head rolls to the side, as you find yourself staring at Wyatt. The boy's chest has been torn to shreds. He's barely breathing, his face looking at you with a torn expression.
  
  "T-they... they got you," he manages to gasp through horrible, wet breaths. 
  
  Breathing heavily, you paw at the burning, stabbing pain in your side, your fingers wrapping around a polished wooden handle. Realizing what's happened, you slowly slide the long blade out of your side, groaning in pain as blood pours down your skin. You slide out the silver knife, tossing the weapon across the dirt as you scream. You groan, feeling your muscles tighten and contract. 
  
  Rolling onto your back, you slide over to Wyatt, ignoring your own pain. The knife hit has quietened the beast within, quashing the monster's howls. As far as wounds go, yours is fairly non-lethal, barely two or three inches in a non-lethal place. You doubt it would kill you normally, but with the beast within you, it's almost certainly non-lethal. You grit your teeth, rolling onto your knees as you stare down at the victim. His body's decimated, a barely surviving hulk.
  
  You lean down, pressing your hands against his bleeding chest wound as you try to stem the bleeding. Wyatt weakly bats at your arms, the occasional fear-wracked sob breaking out of him. 
  
  "P-please... ple... please..." Wyatt begs, before his words disappear into a jumble of gurgling and dying chokes. 
  
  The light in Wyatt's eyes goes dull, as the heat begins to drain from his pale skin. Blood runs down his chalk white skin, as you slowly let go of him. You hear a faint screaming that, somewhere in the back of your mind, you recognize as your own. You bash your fists into the earth, screaming as you feel the wolf howl inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, as you bash your head into the dirt, hoping to quash the wolf inside you. If you'd only been a man... if you'd only went out with Féval...
  
  You take a deep breath, calming yourself. You wait for several minutes, before you stand slowly, looking down at Wyatt's body. The boy lies there, limp and cold. You stare to the side, looking at the rifle that lies alongside him. You reach down, picking up the gun by the wooden stock, lifting it into the air. You pull back the bolt, loading a silver round into the chamber.
  
  For a moment, you stand there, feeling the cold air on your naked skin as you stare at Wyatt's gun.
  > end it
  The Silver Doorway
  
  You raise the rifle to your head, taking it in your arms as you press the bottom of your chin against the gun barrel. You prop the gun upwards, aiming it so that it should go through your skull and out the top of your head. You reach down, pressing your finger against the trigger. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. You've done enough tonight. You're tired, and you want to rest. 
  
  You feel the pangs of hunger tear through you again as the beast awakens, roaring through your entire essence. You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the urge to scream. You slowly release your breath, before pressing down on the trigger.
  
  The gun fires, and the silver bullets tear through your chin, bursting up through your skull, blowing apart your brain and shooting out the top of your skull. Darkness shrouds over you, and you can feel the desperate, clawing, howling beast within you get pulled down into the depths of darkness with you.
  
  Now, the eternal rest is all that's left for you.