and drags her up and out. She sprouts a ruff of grey fur and gains velvety grey paws and ears.
Ginny struggles, but that’s the most that happens—and understandably, she begins to panic. “What if this is as far as I can Change?” she asks, her voice altered, every word coming out a little growled care of her mostly wolven throat. And then something more horrifying occurs to her. “What if I can’t Change back—”
“Calm, Ginny,” Finn assures. “Remember what I said? Everybody worries about this, and not even the dullest of us have gotten stuck. Not even lump-headed Deek over there. Come on. Focus. You can do this.”
I give him a benign look. Which he ignores.
“Deek isn’t dull, or a… lump-head, whatever that is,” Ginny scolds him.
And her protective tone warms my heart. If I had my tail right now, it would be wagging lightly. Also, her words are extra impressive with her growly voice box, and this seems to startle her.
“Focus, Gin,” Finn stresses.
But she’s steadfastly my champion. What a sweetheart. “Be nice to—”
“Fiiiine. If you need me to be honest, Lucan has been shifting since he was a babe. He’s never had any trouble. There, you happy?”
“Yes.” Ginny’s eyes search Finn’s face. “How long did it take you?”
“Til I was three. But I’m a special case. Get back on your hands and paws. Relax.”
She does, her shoes abandoned behind said paws. Her leggings look wrong on her, with her essentially walking on her rear toes, her knees heavily bent and her ankles having shifted up to be strong hocks.
Because she’s far enough along in the process, Finn calls Susan over so that she can be the one to help Ginny out of her clothes, getting them gone so they don’t impede her.
“How long does this usually take?” Susan asks as she rejoins me, and I realize she wasn’t able to hear Finn speaking to Ginny when we first got here.
I slide her a look. “We tell wolflings that it takes as long as it takes. Could be seconds, could be days.”
“Days?” Susan mouths.
My smile is pained. “That’s why adolescent werewolves aren’t out among the public at large. Their Changes can be erratic. It’s why Finn wants Ginny here until we know she’s got a handle on her wolf.”
Twenty minutes later, Ginny’s reaching the point where her progress is obliterated by her near-panic. She looks first to Sue, stumbling when she tries to turn on her four paws and ungainly half-human legs and arms. “Nothing is happening! Susan, Finn, I’m stuck! It’s been too long—”
“Shh,” Finn soothes, catching her by her ruff and hauling her back in front of him. “What have I been saying?”
“This is normal. I’m doing fine. But…” She tries to bring her arm—which is mostly a foreleg—up to brush at her face; there’s a glistening thread stretched over her. “I can’t concentrate like you want me to. Stupid bugs are all over me!”
“We are in the woods,” I murmur, trying to be helpful from the log perch.
Ginny turns her head to stare at me just as Susan does.
I bow my head. “Not helpful, I see.”
Susan asks, “Can I get closer?”
Finn motions her forward, and Susan moves to drop near Ginny, starting to soothe her, or try to, but calming words aren’t doing much to reach the terror-stricken girl when she’s half-human, half-wolf, and unable to commit to being fully one or the other.
“Ginny?” Finn says carefully, staring intently at her.
“What?” she cries.
Finn swallows. “Don’t move.”
Ginny freezes, her eyes going wider. “...Why?”
Finn stares into her eyes, willing her to stay calm. “You have a spider.”
“What?” Ginny cries, jerking sideways to look at herself.
“It’s not that big,” Finn assures unblinkingly, in a measured manner that plainly says the spider is gargantuan, venomous, and deadly. “Just… come closer.” He reaches toward her. “Slowly, that’s a good garl, slow—OH, SHITE!”
Ginny shrieks and turns into a full wolf.
Susan gasps. “Ginny! You did it! And wow… you’re beautiful!”
She is. A steely grey, she’s grizzled with white hairs that accumulate heavily along her sides, until she’s cream-and-white-bellied. There’s white on the insides of her legs, and the strip that runs up her throat and splits to bisect her furred cheeks, giving her half of a mask that is also white.
Above that white line is black striping, a bold bar of it that frames her pale yellow wolf’s eyes.
Which are aimed and glaring at Finn.
“There now,” Finn says proudly, stepping back. “Look at you.”
Eyes slitted, Ginny slowly raises her muzzle a fraction. With