Just a simple misunderstanding

It was a simple misunderstanding. Really that's all it takes sometimes. One, simple, misunderstanding and your life gets turned on its head.

The wind was cold, crisp, as it whistled past in its swirling dance. The young girl shivered, curling in on herself, rubbing her arms in a futile attempt to create heat. Her pale skin glowed slightly under the light of the moon, in deep contrast to her raven-dark hair, wild and curled around her thin shoulders. She walked tentatively, bare feet light and wary of the treacherous night and its myriad traps and snares. Pulling haplessly at the short sleeve of her form-fitting tank top, she fervently wished she'd listened to her father and worn more 'forest-friendly' clothes. She hadn't thought a hike through the forest would be a big deal, but then she hadn't counted upon the bear either. The bear that was currently munching upon her favourite pair of converse shoes…and perhaps even her father. She shivered and struggled to hold back the tears. An icy trail tore through the film of dirt that had settled over her delicate features and rolled off her cheek, falling, lost to the ground below. She sniffed and fought back the sudden urge to simply fall to the ground and give up. She was hopelessly, hopelessly lost.

Almost thoughtlessly, aimlessly, she trudged on, guided only by the desperate hope that it would all be over soon. The forest couldn't go on forever, could it? The forest was silent but for her soft footsteps, the breaking of twigs, the cold, merciless hoot of the hunting owl. It was eerie, and the pale light of the moon served not as a comfort; instead bathing the forest in a half-light, spreading shadows, allowing glimpses and frightened conclusions as to what may be lurking, half-hidden, in the night. She dared not utter a sound; fearful of the shadows, and knowing that these stories never ended well.

A slow, mournful, howl echoed through the silence and she froze; utterly terrified. She listened as it died away, an immense sadness melding with the awful silence of the forest. She shivered. A cloud, dark and heavy, drifted lazily across the gleaming moon and its pale rays began to dissipate. As the surrounding trees were drawn into the absolute blackness she fought back the fear that threatened to permeate her soul. A low growl sounded behind her and she choked back a scream, clasping her hands over her treacherous mouth and flattening herself against the nearest tree. She heard twigs break, bushes rustle and the soft, unmistakable, sound of breathing. Her heartbeat raced, and she felt as if her heart was engaged in a desperate attempt to beat itself right out of her chest. She shakily drew a deep breath and winced as the ragged sound filled the air, magnified by the stifling silence.

There was something coming towards her; slowly, deliberately, menacingly. She heard the soft pad of its feet, the swish of its tail, saw the hunger in its fierce, gold eyes. She tried to build up the courage to run, but her feet felt heavy, numb. Her heart continued to pound, fear climbing, she was sobbing now, but it didn't matter. Those liquid gold eyes were fixed upon hers, unflinching, merciless, and yearning. Yearning; for her, to sink its teeth into her flesh, to sate its hunger with her life. As it prowled closer she sent a prayer out to whatever deity that might be listening to spare her life.

The moon resurfaced, throwing the wolf's lithe form into sharp relief. It seemed to grin wickedly at her, eyes iridescent in the light. Suddenly the wolf lunged, bone-crushing jaws aimed straight for her jugular. She screamed and closed her eyes, desperately trying to wake from the horrible nightmare, all the while dreadfully anticipating the sharp drag of its teeth through her flesh. But it never came. Instead there was a terrible yowl of pain, and the sound of harsh, ragged, breathing. She hesitantly opened her eyes and saw, much to her relief, her attacker racing off into the night. Her rescuer, however, was not quite what she would have imagined. The second wolf turned its moon-white head and stared at her with deep, cerulean, eyes. She gasped at how human they seemed, alight with what looked like compassion. The wind swept past and she shivered again, teeth chattering, it was getting colder. The wolf emitted a soft whimper and walked slowly towards her. She fervently hoped it hadn't saved her simply so it could eat her. Wolves weren't known for befriending lost hikers after all. There was no malice, however, in its gaze and she felt, somewhat inexplicably, that it was trying to be friendly. It rubbed its body along her legs and she gasped as warmth flooded her limbs. She ardently wished she had something, anything, to warm herself with. Fur, she determined, would definitely be acceptable. Little did she know that she was about to get her wish in a decidedly left-handed way.

The wolf regarded her, its head tilted to the side, and a mischievous glint entered its eye. It extended its neck until its nose just touched her arm. She shivered at the cold emanating from the spot. It bared its teeth slightly and, before she could react, nipped her. She stared in shock as blood welled out of the tooth-sized wound and dripped to the ground, painting the leaves a rusty red.
"What was that for?" She questioned, annoyed. The wolf gazed at her with those intelligent eyes and settled down on the ground, head on its paws, simply watching. She scowled and ripped a small portion of her shirt to wrap the wound in.
"That was a perfectly good shirt," she grumbled at the wolf who simply looked at her, expressionless.

Tying it securely, she winced as it seemed to flare up. She watched in morbid fascination as a rather large portion of her arm reddened, the throbbing pain spreading in both directions.
"Ow," she cried out as a particularly sharp pain shot through the nerves in her fingers.
"What the hell did you do?" She accused the Wolf, suddenly scared that she was getting rabies or something. The redness crept up to her shoulder, and the pain moved with it as a strange sort of tingling started at her fingertips.
"This is weird," she raised her hand and looked it over carefully; it seemed almost translucent in the light, veins clearly visible and pulsing. Her nails, curiously, seemed slightly…longer? Thicker, even. The insides of her hands seemed harder, tougher. She cried out as a vein in her neck throbbed painfully.
"What the…?" her heart began to flutter frantically within her chest, so fast she could barely distinguish one beat from another. Still the redness spread; capturing her chest, her waist and at the same time, her neck, her chin. But as the pain receded from each limb to the next, the redness cleared out and left translucent skin in its wake. Her entire arm, she noted, was eerily translucent. She could see muscles, veins, blood pumping at an entirely abnormal rate. Her vision blurred and her world was doused in red. Panicked, she reached out, searching for something to hold on to, a tether to reality. Warm, soft, fur met her hands and she clutched it gratefully.
"What's happening to me?" She murmured, not expecting a reply. Naturally, when a reply did indeed come, she was appropriately shocked.
"You're undergoing a transformation," a deep, rich voice answered her.
"Who's that?" She scooted closer to the wolf, her safety. Her vision began to clear, the red vanishing to be replaced with a strange version of daylight. No, it was still night, she could just…see everything.
The voice chuckled, "It will be disconcerting at first, but you'll get used to it."
She spun around but saw no-one.    
"Who's there?" She yelled, "Show yourself."
A sharp pain exploded in her abdomen and she bent over, gasping. The wolf whined and licked her hand. She nearly screamed as she felt her spine crack, her muscles tear and her skin prickle.
"The first one is always the most painful," the voice sounded sad, almost apologetic.
The pain was horrendous. She felt as if her entire body was being torn to pieces. And yet, her throat refused to make a sound.

The prickling in her hands intensified until it felt as if her skin was being pulled in a thousand different directions. Thick fur blossomed from her skin as her arms and legs shortened slightly. Her spine elongated and the bone broke through the surface of her skin, extending out past her rear. Her ears seemed to shrink against her head, even as two amorphous blobs separated from the skin on her head. Her hair thickened and shrunk as her face stretched out. Her muscles and bones reformed and set, knitting together, as she gasped and writhed in pain. Finally, the pain seemed to recede, leaving only a dull ache in its place.
"It is over," the voice reassured her, its deep tones calming and soothing, "rest now."
She felt a warm body settle beside her and, bone-weary, she succumbed to the darkness.

She awoke to the sound of chomping and munching, and the…rather appealing smell of fresh blood.
Eww, since when was blood appealing?
Groaning, she tried to stand and found that her limbs just wouldn't co-operate.
What the? She crawled onto her knees, well that she could manage; at least. Strange, she felt rather…comfortable. The wolf, from last night, she recalled, trotted over.
"So sleeping beauty has awakened," his deep, cerulean, eyes danced.
"Ahh!" She frantically backed away, stumbling over her uncooperative limbs, "y-you talk."  
"Why so do you," the wolf chuckled, "amazing."
"S-stop talking," she demanded, trying desperately to stand up so she could run away.
"You know," the wolf laughed, "around here we tend to walk on four legs."
"I'm human," she pointed out, "we walk on two."
"Are you?"
"Of course," she snapped, "what else would I…" She trailed off. Had her hands always been this hairy? And had her nose always been so far away?
"Ahhh!" she yelled again, "I'm, I'm a"
"Wolf." The wolf supplied helpfully.
"How did this happen?" She wailed, and then, oh. She remembered the transformation, the pain, the bite –
"You did this to me," she accused the wolf,"you, you turned me into…you."
"In a manner of speaking," the wolf agreed.
"Why?" she sat down on her haunches and glared.
"I was lonely," he shook his coat out, "you were lost and heck, I'm impulsive."
"You could have asked," she complained, "Not everyone wants to run around on four legs and attack people."
"I do not attack people," the wolf replied huffily, "and there was a little bit of a language barrier."
"But I don't even like nature," she wailed, "and I'm stuck as a wolf –"
"Not stuck," he cut her off, "you can change back."
"Then I'm doomed to turn into this, this, thing every full moon or something-"
"Is it a full moon currently?" The wolf questioned, "'cause to me it looks like morning."
She blinked.
"Throws a wrench into that complaint, huh?"
"Okay Mr. Smarty-pants wolf," she grumbled, "how do I change back?"
"Er," he hesitated, "we'll work on that."
"What does that mean?"
"It's just that, well," he hedged, "okay, so you can't change back just yet."
"What do you mean, 'just yet'?" She asked warily.
"Well," he sighed, "you kind of have to accept your 'wolfy side' before you can change back."
"What?!" She screeched, "Then I'll never be able to turn back. I'll be stuck as this, this, hideous beast forever"
"Don't be so hard on yourself," the wolf grinned, "you're not hideous."
"Stupid wolf," she grumbled.
"You must be hungry," he inclined his head towards the nearby carcass of an elk, "eat up."
"You've got to be joking," she wrinkled her nose, "that's disgusting."
"Uh huh," he winked, "you just keep telling yourself that."
She hated to admit it, but the elk smelt very, very appealing. Scrumptious, in fact. Her resolve weakened.
"You know you want to," the wolf's voice drifted back to her.
"Not in this, or any other, lifetime," she shot back, determined to resist.
"Have it your way then."'
Her thoughts drifted to her father, was he still alive? Or had he been eaten by the bear? She suppressed the urge to cry. Maybe the wolf would know?
"Hey wolf," she called.
"Yes wolf," he replied, "the name's Zach, by the way."
"Zach?" She said, surprised, "that's so…human."
"Well I am part human," he laughed.
"Oh yeah," she said, embarrassed, "I'm Emily. I was wondering," she began, "have you seen a man wandering the woods recently?"
"A man?"
"Yeah, he'd be quite tall, possibly wounded…"
Zach seemed to think for a moment, "There was one the other night, before I found you. Seemed lost, carried a gun though," he added, "so I didn't get very close."
"That could be him," she gasped, "take me to him?"
"Woah," Zach shook his head, "he has a gun."
"He's my father," she pleaded, "I have to know if he's alive."
"I, oh okay," he gave in, "but promise me you won't do something stupid like run up to him."
"I won't."
Zach looked at her, disbelieving but acquiesced.
"Come on, he was headed in this direction." He ran off into the bush at a fast pace, and Emily was hard-pressed to keep up.
"Slow down…you…maniac," she panted, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Her feet hurt, her legs ached and frankly, she felt like collapsing.
Zach slowed, "this was about where I came across him last night," he sniffed the ground, "his scent's all over the clearing."
She inhaled the familiar scent and sighed in relief, it was her dad alright.
"That's him," she looked at Zach, "now what?"
"We track," he grinned, "his trail heads east." Again he raced off, and she struggled to keep pace.
"What are you?" She panted, "An Olympic runner?"
"You just have to get your wind up," he laughed, "and then you'll be running with the best of 'em."
"I have a question," she called out.
"Shoot."
"Why didn't you change into a person last night?"
"I," he paused, "I can't anymore."
"Why not?"
"It's just, it's been so long," he sounded sad, "I've forgotten how."
Suddenly he halted, and she all but crashed into him.
"Sheesh," she complained, "Give a person some warning, why-"
"Quiet," he barked, "listen."
It was her Dad and he was crying. She could just barely see him through the bushes. He was clutching something to his chest, and rocking back and forth.
"Dad," she whispered and began to walk forwards.
"No," Zach lunged and grabbed her neck with his jaws, "don't go near him, he won't recognise you."
"Of course he will," she retorted, forgetting everything, the relief was so immense. She shook Zach off and began to run towards her Dad.
"Emily, don't!" Zach called out, hesitated, and then ran after her.
She watched as her father look up, saw her, and waited for the recognition to light up his eyes. It didn't. Instead she watched, shocked, as her father dropped the chewed up converse shoe he'd been hugging, and pointed his gun straight at her.
"Dad, it's me," she yelled, "It's me."
"Piece of scum," she heard him shout, "You killed my daughter!"
"No," she skidded to a halt, "I'm alive, it's me."
Zach skidded to a halt beside her, "come on, "he said, urgent, "he doesn't recognise you, if we don't move it he'll shoot."
She turned her head to face his, jade-green eyes gazing deep into cerulean ones.
"He won't."
Her words were punctuated by a loud crack, and she flinched. But there was no pain. Instead, she heard a low grunt as Zach collapsed to the ground beside her.
"Zach?" She anxiously nudged him with her nose, "Zach, get up."

He lay there, unmoving, blood pooling around him, and she stood there, uncomprehending. How could this have happened? Desperately she willed herself to change back. And then she felt it, all too vivid memories of the first change shot to the surface of her mind, and she gasped in relief as the tingling began. But it was happening too slowly. Her father was pointing the gun at her, his finger, ready, on the trigger. Faster, she thought, have to change faster. As the second shot rang out, she forced her body to change quicker, but it was to no avail. The bullet ripped through her body even as it reformed, reshaped. As she gasped through the sharp burst of pain that invaded her senses, she felt her fur shrink and meld with her skin. She was almost done, almost human. She heard her father's shocked gasp, the slight thump as the gun slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground. Even as the blackness threatened to overwhelm her she urged the transformation to continue, she had to be human – and then he'd see she was alive. Finally, she was done. She was human. Her father's face filled her vision, he was talking, screaming, crying. She reached up to touch his face, to reassure, to tell him everything was okay now. Was it? Yes, she decided, it was. It was just a misunderstanding after all. Just a simple misunderstanding. And now it would be cleared up, he would understand, would see, that she was his daughter.

Just a simple misunderstanding.