I am terrified. Absolutely and utterly terrified out of my mind. It's a deep fear, it chews at me deep down, bites at my heart and lungs, makes my breathing short and quickened.

Why, you may ask?

This is the night of the full moon, the first full moon I've ever had the pleasure to go through as a fully grown lycanthrope; a werewolf.

I've wanted this moment for as long as I can remember. It's said to be blissful, it's said to be amazing and light, the best moment of your life.

It's the moment you meet your wolf for the first time, the moment that that little voice in the back of your mind gains sentience. It's when that little voice finally grows and becomes an almost separate part of your consciousness, capable even of taking over your movements.

I know, sounds crazy, doesn't it?

I turned 18 last month, two days after the last full moon, which was good - it meant I had an entire month to prepare myself and try everything I'd been told would help me out in this supposedly 'awakening' moment.

There wasn't much really, aside from mental preparation. I only really exercised more in preparation for the muscular strain.

Honestly, I'm pretty excited. I'm ready to meet my wolf, I can't wait to meet him, I can't wait to know what he looks like and become as close and well acquainted with him as all the other werewolves in my pack are with their own other halves.

I can feel the beginnings of the feeling I've been told will soon race through me. It's like a static sensation almost, spreading slowly across my skin. It starts at the tips of my fingers, sliding up my arms and across my shoulders, down over my chest and up my neck.

It's supposed to be invigorating, searing, more intense than anything else I've ever felt before.

I can't say I'm not scared, because I definitely am. I'm buzzing with this concoction of emotions swimming within me. Terror. Excitement. Fear. Anticipation. Glee. Adrenaline.

The excitement far outweighs the fear, without a doubt. I've wanted this for so, so long. I've wanted to know my other half for as long as I can possibly remember, and I'm not going to reject them now. I could never do that, ever.

For most of my life, I've been weaker than my packmates. It's never really been through my own fault; it's just the way of the pack.

I look down at my hands. I'm pacing back and forth at the edge of the forest, just outside of the main camp. There's no one with me, just as I'd requested. This is a thing that each wolf should go through alone, deal with by themselves in order to fully accept and become one with their wolf.

I glance up at the moon overhead, through the trees. It sits silent and brooding in the dark of the sky, watching me impassively.

It's said that the Moon Goddess watches over us, that she is the reason for our abilities, and that, centuries ago, she gave them to us as thanks; a gift to her creation so that we may walk amongst animal and human, so that we could fit into both kingdoms as equals.

According to lore, we'd been created to defeat a threat to the goddess, a being known to us now as 'The Challenger'. It was too long ago for anyone still alive to remember, but if the stories were to be believed, the threat had been of the goddess' making, and had very nearly been successful in killing her until we'd joined her ranks.

In return, she'd bestowed great strength, speed, and healing capabilities upon us. We were as grateful to her as she was to us, and to this day our worship continues.

I'd like to believe that the stories are real. The idea that we have this divine being watching over us? That sounds pretty good to me, and I guess most wolves feel the same way. Why else would stories of the goddess be told so often? Why else would we howl to her in times of need?

A breeze blows softly past me, stirring the bushes, ruffling my hair gently around my head. It's so peaceful in this forest, so calm. It's the perfect place for me to experience this, as it's always been the place I feel most at home.

As a pup, I'd travelled a lot with my parents and siblings. It had taken quite some time for my parents to settle down, and then once they had, I'd almost started to miss the constant travelling. There's something comforting about staying in the one place for more than a night, but there's also only so much to explore within the confines of one pack's territory.

I plan to travel, someday. Seeing the world sounds too good to ignore, especially with my wolf at my side; a constant companion guiding my actions. Maybe I can even find my mate along the way, deep in the middle of some faraway land.

I feel a sudden flash of pain along my arm, and that's when I know it's about to begin. I only just have time to draw a shaking breath before the second lighting bolt of agony zaps along my spine.

I'm knocked to the ground, the yelp in my throat killed off by the root I smack against that knocks the air from my lungs. The next crack of pain is worse, rippling over the front of my torso and up to my head. My ears are on fire suddenly, my skin raw and cracking. I bring my hands up to grasp my head, half expecting to find flames there, but instead finding only my own head. It feels warm, feverish and clammy. This is it, oh goddess, this is it!

I can't breath. I can't speak. I can't focus on anything other than this roaring, incessant pain.

I try to curl up, as if that'll stop me from feeling it, but my limbs aren't obeying me. My hands jerk forwards, my legs flailing, muscles tensing and relaxing out-with my control. What's going on? Is this supposed to happen? Surely it won't always be like this? It can't be. It can't be this bad.

I can feel my head stretching forwards, the bones in my ears and jaw popping as they elongate in an odd jittery fashion that only makes this whole process worse. What if it doesn't work right?

The thoughts are ripped from me as prickling jolts of pain erupt across my skin. Fur. This must be fur. The thought comes from far away, like I'm watching all of this from the back of my own mind.

It feels like knives are carving their way out from my body, chipping away at the under layers of my skin and then shooting away from me. There has to be blood, surely. This is too much pain for there to be no blood.

I force my eyes to open, and look down at my hands. They're coated in a layer of grey-brown hair. I can see the individual strands growing from my skin, settling into place all the way up my arm.

As I watch, my arm jerks to the side, and a deep, guttural roar is pulled from my throat as my elbow dislocates and my arm changes shape altogether.

I'd watched wolves change shape before - many times, actually - but it never seemed this bad. Of course, I'd never watched a first shift. For nearly all wolves, it was a special occasion, and they went off by themselves to experience it. I'd never really understood exactly why that was, and yet I'd done it myself anyway.

It's probably a good thing really - I hadn't wanted the others to see me this weak. I can just imagine the jokes they'd make about it, even though they'd probably been in a similar state the first time too.

The next whiplash of pain stems from the tips of my fingers. What feels like logs force themselves outwards from my hands. Claws. That'll be claws. Claws were last, right? I shudder at the idea this could go on for a while more. How long has it been already? An hour? Two? A day? Each dash of pain goes on for much longer than I'd figured it would.

I scream from the agony in my hands, dragging them across the ground despite the crying protests from my muscles. They feel smaller, blockier than before. Maybe they have nearly changed now, maybe it truly is almost over.

Then, it all stops. Everything stops at once; all the pain, all the convulsing. I'm shivering on the ground, coated in a layer of sweat beneath the fur.

My mind is cloudy, and as I rise shakily to my feet, I realise that I'm still not really in control of my movements.

That's when a jagged needle scrapes through my brain, and another presence is suddenly in my mind, sitting right behind my eyes.

Finally, the control is mine.

Is that...the wolf? Is that him?

Him? No, I am you. And now, I will be taking over.

Taking over? What does that mean?

Eighteen years I've spent, repressed in that mind of yours. I think it's about time I was given the driver's rights, don't you think?

There's something off about that voice. It's familiar, somehow, and yet strangely foreign at the same time. It sounds older, as well, like something from the stories. I suppose it makes sense I'd recognise the voice of my wolf, but this doesn't sound anything like how I'd imagined it would.

I would think you should know me, too. I am afterall, well known to the great goddess herself.

A name shoots into my mind, and an icy chill of fear dashes through me as I realise why I know this wolf. Is it possible? Could it be?

Surely not. Surely...no.

Oh, yes.

Tyron. It's the voice of Tyron the Challenger. The curl to the ends of his words, the ancient quality of his presence. It can't be.. it's not possible. How could he be in my mind?

Quite simple really. It's high time I made myself known again, and what better form to take than a young runt like yourself? Your wolf was quite easy to dispose of, being as strong as his human counterpart. I can help you, and in return, you can help me.

As a wolf, I begin to move, walking forwards slowly at first, and then speeding up into a run. I can feel my muscles screaming, already exhausted from the exertion of my first shift, but it's a far off feeling. It doesn't register as my own.

This isn't how it's supposed to be! How...how can I help you? I can't resist his control, and he isn't giving me so much as a second's chance to skip back into control either. There's a voice somewhere in my mind that's telling me this could be okay, that maybe it's about time he came back. Why am I inclined to believe it?

You can be quiet, and stop trying to overpower me. I can assure you, you will not succeed.

It is then that my vision dims, and I am in complete darkness. I can hear, and smell, but my sight and sense of feeling are both gone.

I stay silent for the next hour or so. It's strange, this existence. It's like I'm floating in deep space. Everything is muted, and there's nothing to be seen, but I have my thoughts, and I know I'm alive.

I pick up the scent of my pack after a while, and for a few moments I wonder why I've been brought here.

Then, I hear the first of the screams.

It's a stinging sound that seems to reverberate through my consciousness. The smell of blood is soon to follow, alighting a dark dread within me. It's not prey blood, no, this is wolf blood. This is one of my pack members. A call of alarm goes up next, swiftly followed by a thick gurgling sound and a stronger metallic smell.

What's going on? Is he...is he killing my packmates? Why?

How I've missed this feeling. To be alive is truly a blessing, is it not?

His words come to me while he moves, while the smell of fear and barks of aggression ring out around us. Each one is a jolt to my consciousness. I recognise each wolf, and I'm starting to believe my pack may be about to serve as a test of strength for this brute.

Perhaps you are more quick witted than I had pegged you for.

The next squeal is high pitched and followed by a sharp cracking sound. I recognise the scent instantly. It's my younger brother.

One less annoying rat roaming the earth.

I shove to the forefront of my mind, trying to gain any ounce of control over my actions. For a second, the sounds become louder, and I almost think I can see something other than black. For a second, I catch a picture-shot view of the campsite, of my brother dead a foot or so to my left, and the Beta rushing at me.

It's all gone before I can utter a word, and I'm back in the darkness once more.

"Stand down! What are you doing?" The Beta shouted at me, at my wolf.

I tried to shout back at him, to tell him to run and take the rest of the pack with him, but before I could so much as utter a word, Tyron attacked. I heard the sickening crunch of bone-on-bone, and the follow-up noise of a corpse hitting the ground.

For the first time, I was glad I couldn't see, but the sounds alone presented a different kind of torture.

This continued for a while longer, until eventually the last scream faded into the distance.

By that time, I was numb, shocked to my very core and wishing I could be anywhere but within my own head at that moment. Never in my wildest of nightmares would I have imagined that meeting my wolf could be quite this horrific.

Now, now. I'd like to think we've had some fun together so far, you and I.

The sound of his voice sickened me. At least it was over now, at least they were dead and not left alive to suffer. That was all I could cling to from this, all I could think if i wanted to stay sane a moment longer.

Oh, you poor, stupid runt. Do you really think would be brainless enough to kill them all in one game? I didn't quite manage to catch your father, or your sister, I don't think. Maybe it's time we go on a little...hunting expedition. I can think of a number of things I'd like to test on these wolves. Oh, the fun we'll have.

A number of terrifying images flashed through my mind, each one worse than the last. Blood. Screaming. My father, limbless and crying on the ground. My sister, strung from a tree by her arms, a waterfall of blood trickling from her throat.

No...leave them...please leave them...please.

The images replayed themselves in my head, over and over again while Tyron headed away from the camp.

An all-too familiar scent found it's way to my nose, and as it did, I heard the harsh sound of Tyron's laugh.

My father wasn't too far ahead. I just hoped he had the sense to keep running.