Fiádh’s howl echoed through the valley, carrying far more than the cries of his human throat. This body felt strong. He could feel the strength in his legs and jaws. He wanted to run, to chase prey. To bite into them and pull them down with powerful jaws. His senses were now much stronger. He could hear the soft footsteps of rabbits moving in and out their burrows. He could smell the pungent mushrooms that Enid was boiling in her pot on the hill. The young druid was always taught to be aware of his surroundings but the form of men could only be so alert. Now, he was not only aware of his surroundings but everything was much sharper. Much more in focus. It almost made his head spin. He looked back at his new reflection and grinned as much as his canine muzzle would let him. Perhaps he could clear this river now. He was never able to jump over it in his human body but the body of a wolf was far stronger than his own.

Taking several steps back, and getting used to walking on four limbs, he broke out into a sprint. The river became much closer much quicker but he fumbled and tripped over his own paws. This was nothing like moving as a field mouse or squirrel. It was entirely a different form of running. He got up and shook his gray fur free of dust and blades of grass, then tried again. This time he got it, remembering what he saw of wolves running in the woods and tried to mimic them. Just as his paws were about to push off the ground and send himself flying over the running river, his body changed back into that of a man. There was a great splash as the cool water raced up to meet him. The river that marked the border between the Whitewood and Old Enid’s hut was not large, nor fast, but it was terribly cold. Clawing his way out of wet sand and freezing water, Fiádh lay on the grass with heavy breaths and a smile on his face. His heart was beating hard, though the magic that filled him moments before was gone. Now that he was looking at the sky, he saw the position of the sun and his heart began to pound for a different reason.

Back in the village, Fiádh snuck quietly into his family home. The sweet smell of yams roasting over a fire, slathered in goat butter, made his stomach growl. He cursed silently as he crept past the kitchen and hearth.

“You wouldn’t be so hungry...” came the soft yet threatening voice of his mother. “...if you had been here when the sun was higher.” The whole time she did not look at him. The young druid sighed, and wondered if he got his sharp sense of hearing from her and not his father.
“I know, mother. I am sorry. B-but I am late for a good reason. Old Enid taught me something new!”

“Is that right?” His mother, Gwyn, let down her dirty blonde hair as she placed a clay bowl into her son’s hands. It was filled with a lukewarm stew of roots, mushrooms and rabbit meat. “What did she teach you, hm? Because it was obviously not ‘listen to your mother’.”
Fiádh winched again, but kept a weak smile. “She…well she…taught me how to turn into a wolf. It’s very simple, just like changing into a mouse or rabbit, really. She did warn me about the strength of a wolf’s spirit but I knew I could handle it so…” He paused for his mother to react.

Just before Gwyn spoke, her husband and Fiádh’s father entered the home. He was tired, covered in a thin coat of old sweat and the broken shaft of a spear in his left hand. He sat beside the fire, and Gwyn swiftly gave him a hot bowl of rabbit stew.
The hut was silent until Aodhan finished eating.

“I could smell that yam from the edge of the forest.” The patriarch finally croaked. “I could use a good butter-roasted yam…even if I dinnae deserve it.”

Gwyn gave her husband a sorrowful look, but removed the yam from the fire spit and placed it in the older man’s bowl. Fiádh looked between the two of them with worry in his voice, and hunger in his eyes. “Why would you not deserve a yam? Because of the broken spear?” Adohan glanced at his son, and the young druid saw a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. It was not disappointment in the boy, but the look of a man who had failed in something of great importance.
His father just put the broken shaft into the fire. “Fiádh…how was Old Enid? I hope she didn’t give you too many lashings this time.”

“She taught our boy how to turn into a wolf.” His mother interjected, giving her son a playful smile.

“Is that right?! Impressive. Maybe next time she can have you summon a whole pack, and help us hunt down Bale-Eye.” At the words of his father, everything was suddenly clear. Fiádh could only wonder how many of his kinsmen that monster took from them this time.
“I…could try. Thought I may just call forth a swarm of ravens instead. Pluck out his one good eye!” The young druid chuckled, but his father just patted him on the shoulder. “That’s a good laddie.” And the patriarch of the Whitewood village got up and went to the mink-skin bed to rest.

Gwyn and Fiádh exchanged worried glances, and Bale-Eye howled in the distance.