after breakfast, before sunrise



Amidst a blanket of white – the clearing ringed by thick trees and laden branches – Shona lifted her head and grinned at the figure appearing at the edge of the clearing.

Wreathed in a kitschy-looking scarf and a thin layer of snow was Zel, quickly making his way towards them. Over break – before New Year’s but after he’d been found – Shona had officially taken the young werewolf and his older sister under her wing. Once the residual awkwardness had been plowed through, she had made it clear that his early Saturday mornings were now hers for the foreseeable future. To that end she had a spot in the forest cordoned off while she, Rick and Alex set up a last few things. They continued on without her now, weaving in and out of the clearing.

Since they were nearly done anyway, Shona left them to it and went to greet the younger werewolf, closing rest of the distance with a smile bright beneath the overcast sky. “Good morning,” she beamed, tucking her hands into her jacket. “Did you have a good swim?”

Gloved hands in his pockets, Zel swiftly made his way through the trail leading to the Donovan's weirdly pack-like training clearing. He appreciated the privacy that the trees would provide, and appreciated their offers to help him learn how to protect himself with, and without magic. His new wand didn't feel right; it was secondhand. He knew that Raine would insist on getting him a new one, but he was still holding out hope that his old one would be recovered.

The early meeting time had not bothered him. Over the last couple of years, he had shifted to becoming a morning person. His sleep schedule as of late was erratic; either he slept too much, or not at all. Either way, Zel did his best not to let it show.

"Mornin'." Zel replied. Shona Donovan had always been friendly. She, too, was a werewolf-- and her sister was flatmates with his sister. He supposed, by extension her sister was also, kind of his flatmate. After all, where else was he going to stay when he wasn't at Hogwarts?  "The squid kept teasing me today." He explained in exasperation. The damn thing was probably getting lonely in this chilly weather. Despite how annoying it was, Zel had a soft spot in his heart for the creature.

"I... Sorry if I kept you waiting?" He tilted his head to the side, tucking his bottom lip under his teeth anxiously.

At the mention of the squid, Shona grinned. As a magizoologist who specialized in marine biology, she found Hogwarts’ biggest invertebrate both a beauty and a marvel, something to look forward to every time she visited the lake. Its ability to play – that mischievous streak – only sweetened its acquaintance. She was very fond it.

“Nah,” she said, cheerfully waving Zel off.  She briefly looked back to where Rick and Alex currently were, the former watching with his arms folded as the latter inscribed something into the ground. “You didn’t. Just wanted some time to set things up, is all.”

Yards away, Rick was shaking his head. “Reverse raidho,” he said. “And not so sharp. We don’t want Zel flying halfway to the castle–”

“We don’t?”

Shona coughed, turning back to Zel with a wide, artless grin. “I thought we could start off with a few exercises,” she offered by way of explanation. “Social stigma notwithstanding, there’s a bit more to being a werewolf than wolfsbane potion and monthly transformations. Which I’m sure you’ve gathered by now.” A corner of her mouth lifted wryly; they both knew he wouldn’t be here, now, if he hadn’t.

But there was more to being a werewolf, and finding others to explore the new changes with – to accept them with – that was only the start. Though the acknowledgment of a leader figure did have a bit of that mystical quality Muggle fans were so enamored with, everything else would only come with time and work. “How much, though—that depends on the individual.

“A lot of us often don’t notice, or if they do, it’s for the worse: migraines, fatigue, zero appetite, vertigo… And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Some even find themselves just plain ill. But that isn’t supposed to happen.” She looked at Zel, facing him more fully, her gaze calm but direct. Searching. “What differences have you noticed between yourself and your peers?”

A simple enough question—an easy one to answer, even, especially in his case. As tall and pale as he was, the Hufflepuff stood out no matter where he was or what he was doing. But Shona didn’t mean it that way, and the way she waited for his answer spoke volumes.

The Donovans and Emeline had completely embraced their werewolf-ness, and it was as much a part of their identity as their magical status or their spiritual beliefs. It couldn't simply be separated from them. From conversations with Emeline, Zel knew that she wouldn't change the fact that she was a werewolf if there was a cure-- it was how she lived most of her life. However, she wouldn't be opposed to it being less... Painful. Dangerous.

He had experienced many of the negative symptoms of being a werewolf that Shona had listed off. The fact that he didn't have to have those feelings wasn't.... Well, Zel wasn't sure if he necessarily agreed with that. But, he would hear her out.

“What differences have you noticed between yourself and your peers?”

Zel gave Shona a long, blank stare. He motioned towards himself, eyebrows raised. "Have you seen me?"  He sighed, and continued. "I'm tall, I'm gangly, I have albinism." He said monotonously, "I'm..." He struggled to find the right word. His mother had always told him that he was too sensitive as a child, but he didn't view that as particularly bad. There were plenty of peers that were sensitive. They were teenagers for God's sake.

"I like bad cat sweaters, solely because they're hideous?"  Oh. And he could smell everything. Maybe that was the answer Shona was looking for. Too late.

Shona laughed. “No, Zel.” But when she stopped, settling into a smile – reluctantly amused, maybe – something else lurked behind it:

Pity.

The Lord knew insecurities weren’t uncommon at Zel’s age; between the raging hormones, the growth spurts, family drama and changing dynamics, there was always something just around the bend, for each and every teenager. With such noticeable changes in one’s body, it was easy to become uncomfortable—to feel comfortable with what you were now. But Zel… He always had so much more on his plate than the average kid.

Which he handled well, all things considering, she reminded herself fiercely. By the usual standards – grades, friends, mental health – he was doing well, certainly better than Shona could hope for after his kidnapping. And she had had high hopes.

So she shoved the pity aside with a forceful mental elbow.

“You were all those things before you were bitten,” she reminded him. “And you would have liked your sweaters regardless.” Questionable taste wasn’t a werewolf thing. They might be killers without Wolfsbane potion, but no one could ever accuse them of having it because they were werewolves.

“I meant being able to smell everything,” she continued. And paused; she glanced at Zel – eyed him – before relaxing, seemingly satisfied with what she found. “But… not just that.”

Shona began the slow trek to the spot where Rick and Alex had been, confident that the younger werewolf would follow. “Rick and I can hear almost everything, too,” she said, as leisurely as their pace. Snow crunched beneath her feet, but it was something she felt rather than heard. “We can hear as far as nearly a mile without pushing ourselves. We can even tell when people know they’re lying.” It wasn’t a sure thing, of course; there were ways of getting around it, as certain siblings could attest to. But enough so that between them, she and Rick had a pretty good rate of success.

“What I’m trying to say is… we,” There was a new but gentle emphasis on the word, in such a way that could only imply she was including Zel as well, “are stronger, faster and healthier because of what we are, though there isn’t much of a difference to see unless you’re in shape. More than that, we have fangs—and claws.” Shona pulled out a hand from her pockets and let her claws drop.

They were clean and healthy looking and so, so sharp. The movement itself was silent, effortless. She held them up for Zel to see.

“With all of this, our biggest, most important difference from our peers is our need for self-control. Not just for the safety of those around us, but for our own safety as well. Too many sounds can distract us. Worse, they can overwhelm us. The same goes for every sense for which it applies. More important than that, is the way our tempers wax with the full moon.”

Finger by finger, Shona curled her hand into a fist—letting her claws slowly puncture her palm. Blood welled beneath them, filling the immediate area with that coppery, metallic scent. “We can hurt ourselves just as easily.”

Then, all at once, she squeezed her fist, tucking her palm away from sight. When she opened her hand again, her claws were gone. Shona drew her wand from her other pocket, tapping her palm with a silent Episkey before looking back up at Zel and letting it drop. All traces of indulgence or amusement were gone. “Our safety is just as important as anyone else’s.

“Now.” A sharp exhale. The grimness bled from her features. “Any questions?”

Zel didn't usually hear everything, not like Rick and Shona could. The thought that his other senses could become heightened was a mixture of exciting, overwhelming, and downright terrifying. A mile?! Did that mean that louder sounds caused them more pain, or was it just a sensitivity to the quieter frequencies? He didn't have time to dwell on that, Shona kept talking.

Stronger, faster, healthier. That rang true. He hadn't caught a single illness since getting bitten-- but considering how horrible he felt before and after transformations, he supposed it was still a very unequal trade. Emeline had always been physically stronger than him, but she had been bitten young. Nearly two years after he had been bitten, now his strength surpassed hers. With his change in diet to accommodate his metabolism and level of activity, he was beginning to fill out. Zel no longer looked like some sort of emaciated street orphan.

His blue eyes widened as Shona pulled out her claws. What the-- whaaat?! He glanced down at his hand. He didn't have those-- as far as he knew. Then, to make things even weirder, Shona punctured her own palm with them. Zel let out an exhale of surprise.

If things weren't weird before, they were certainly heading in this direction now.

"Uh." He was too stunned for coherent questions, "I--WHY?"

Shona cocked her head to the side. “Why what?” She looked down at her hand – her nails – as though they might provide an answer. But only normal nails glinted back at her, pale pink and decidedly human; was it the claws?

Didn’t he know he had claws?

Somewhere in the trees, Rick’s voice reached her ears: “Shona…”

He went ignored. Instead, the she-wolf stared at Zel, pinning him with a thoughtful look. From the widening of his eyes to the pitch of his voice, the whole of his expression—she didn’t think it was the claws. At least, not just the claws; maybe it wasn’t even the bit of bloodshed itself. Though it made her feel a little guilty to think it, Shona doubted a little blood would make him squirm. Not after everything he had been through.

Or maybe it did. There wasn’t only one right way to react to trauma, after all, and Shona had been a wolf far longer than she had been a werewolf. She knew what it was like to have blood in her jaws and still be in control. Few werewolves could say the same.

“Because this is what we are,” she finally said, quirking him a wry smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was… solemn, and sharp, and a little tired: the kind that could only come from personal experience. “We’re human, but we’re this, too—claws, fangs, fur and all. It can be more than a curse, but that’s up to us. Every time we don’t have control, whether we’re alone or not—we are the first ones that we hurt.” Literally and figuratively.

But that – wasn’t why they were here. Shona glanced behind her and released a breath. Today’s exercise didn’t require them; they could wait another day. “Your first lesson is on tracking,” she said. “Somewhere in this forest are Rick and Alex… and a lot of traps. Flare charms, Incarcerus traps, repulsion jinxes, misdirection hexes—your goal is to find Rick, then Alex, while avoiding them all. Keep an eye out for signs; if an area is too quiet, then it’s probably been rigged.”

Both werewolf and witch posed their own challenges. However, Rick was working with handicaps and had to stay in one place. Alex, on the other hand, was not, and could move as she pleased. “Here,” said Shona, pulling a couple of shirts out of her jacket. One of them – a man’s white tank top – was significantly sweat-stained, pungent to a werewolf’s nose—a fresh product of Rick’s daily workout regimen. “Memorize their scent. When you’re done, you can start.”