I am flesh and fury bound by moonlight. I have learned to love the ache of almost-transformation, the sweet tension of holding two selves in one vessel. Some nights I don't know if I'm a human blessed to become a wolf, or a wolf cursed to remember being human. Either way, the moon calls, and I answer with teeth.
 Midnight hunts, fresh bruises that map the transformation, thunderstorms that drown out howls, curating the perfect playlist for my kills, and the way fear smells just before the chase begins.
Silver jewelry, the refrigerator's incessant humming, locked doors (they only delay the inevitable), amateur occultists who think they can "control" me, and prey that doesn't run.