Page 2

The man's features contorted. His back arched in what appeared to be some kind of transformation pose. His hands curled into claws as dark black hair began sprouting along his forearms. His face elongated impossibly, and his teeth visibly sharpened even in the grainy night footage.

And then—nothing. The screen went black.

"No, no, no!" Maya slapped the side of her laptop. "You have got to be kidding me!"

She rewound and replayed the footage three times. Each viewing confirmed what she'd seen—a man beginning to transform into something else. Something with fur and fangs.

"I can't believe my damn battery died!" She pushed away from the desk, pacing the narrow confines of her van. "Go figure. The one time I capture something truly extraordinary, and the equipment fails on me."

Maya's heart hammered in her chest. The rational part of her brain searched for explanations—costume, camera malfunction, elaborate hoax—while another part, a primitive instinct she rarely acknowledged, recognized the truth immediately.

"Werewolves," she breathed, the word hanging in the air between scientific impossibility and undeniable evidence. "Actual werewolves."

She returned to the screen, freezing the frame on the man's face at the moment his transformation began. Something about those eyes, silver-blue and piercing even through digital pixels, stirred a response in her that wasn't entirely professional curiosity.

"This changes everything." Maya grabbed her journal, scribbling furiously. "If there are people who can transform into wolves... that would explain the advanced pack behaviors, theintelligence beyond normal lupine capacity, and the strategic territory marking."

Her excitement built with each connection her mind made. "I need more footage. I need to find him."

She glanced at the frozen image again, studying the man's features with new intensity. Broad shoulders, powerful build, that intriguing scar running from his temple to his jaw.

"Who are you?" she wondered aloud, her finger tracing his outline on the screen. "And what will you do when you discover I've seen what you really are?"

Maya's hands shook with excitement as she soon marked the coordinates on her topographical map, the red X stark against the green contour lines. She double-checked the position against her GPS data, matching it to the timestamp on the camera footage.

"You're not getting away that easily, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Turns-Into-A-Wolf." Her finger traced the path she'd take tomorrow, through the dense forest to the clearing where she'd caught him on camera.

She packed methodically for tomorrow's expedition—extra memory cards, fresh batteries, her best telephoto lens, and even the night-vision monocular she rarely used. Each item went into its proper place in her field kit backpack with the precision of a surgeon preparing instruments.

"If werewolves exist, then everything I know about evolutionary biology needs serious revision." Maya tapped her pen against her journal where she'd sketched the man's face from memory. Those eyes haunted her—impossibly bright, primal yet intelligent.

She crawled into her narrow bed after setting her alarm for pre-dawn. The small space felt suddenly vulnerable, mere aluminum and insulation separating her from whatever prowledthe forest. Maya pulled her sleeping bag up to her chin and stared at the roof of the van.

"What if he knows I saw him?" The question hung in the darkness. "What if he comes looking for me?"

Sleep eventually claimed her, dragging her into vivid dreams that blurred the line between terror and desire.

She stood in a moonlit clearing, mist curling around her ankles. Dark shapes emerged from the tree line—wolves with eyes that gleamed with human awareness. They circled her, drawing closer with each pass.

"Stay back," she called out, but her voice sounded small in the vast dreamscape.

The wolves snarled, showing teeth that seemed to elongate as she watched. Their bodies contorted, shifting between wolf and human forms in a fluid, impossible motion that her scientific mind both rejected and was fascinated by.

One wolf broke from the circle—larger than the others, with striking midnight black fur. It approached her with deliberate steps, its eyes the same piercing silver-blue from the camera footage.

Maya stood her ground even as her heart jackhammered against her ribs. "I'm not afraid of you," she lied.

The wolf stopped mere inches from her. Then it changed—fur receding, limbs elongating, spine straightening—until the man from the footage stood before her. His height towered over her, his broad shoulders blocking the moonlight, casting her in his shadow.

"You should be afraid," he said, his voice deep and rich with power. He reached out, cupping her face with a hand that could easily crush her bones but instead touched her with unexpected gentleness. "You don't know what you've just done."

"I know enough," dream-Maya responded with a boldness her waking self might have lacked.

His face drew closer, those luminous eyes studying her with predatory intensity. "What makes you think I'll let you leave with that knowledge?"

"What makes you think I want to leave?"

The dream shifted. They were running together through the forest, his hand gripping hers as they darted between trees. Behind them came snarls and howls—the pack in pursuit.