Forever

As she moved across the room, Lilac swayed under her unfamiliar heft. She wondered if she could get vertigo from simply turning around too fast.

Lilac’s body vibrated with apprehension as she fought to hold back her questions, gripping her sleeve tightly. Several wolven staff gave them confused glances, pausing in their tasks to stare. The height difference between her, the staff, and the patients amplified her self-consciousness. She held the strap of her bag tighter. She didn’t know whether she wanted to stand tall to fit in or shrink until she vanished from their gaze. Every feature—her curled tail, golden facial markings, short, pointed ears, and soft, round face—felt louder, more mutt than ever. Just as out of place as she’d always been. Teddy, by contrast, walked straight-backed and sure-footed, her posture exuding confidence, making Lilac feel just as dwarfed by her as by the Wilde Breeds around them.

“Do you need me to carry your bag?” Teddy’s voice cut through Lilac’s rumination.

The Shiba laughed off the offer with a wave of her hand and straighter shoulders.

Noticing the doorway, Lilac jogged ahead and pushed open the large doors leading them outside to a central courtyard connecting all the facility's buildings. Teddy paused to let her take in the scenery. Not far away was a large field with basketball and tennis courts. She could see patients running along a track surrounded by patchy, yellowed grass. The U-shaped buildings were connected by a large metal fence.  Despite its openness, the surrounding buildings made Lilac uneasy—it felt like an arena. Even from a distance, Lilac could see a large chain link fence, barbed and impossible to scale. Closer, small bodies ran around a playground and through large wooden jungle gyms.

“Are those kids?” Lilac asked. “Like- patients, I mean. They’re obviously kids.”

“Lycanthropy can lie dormant in a canid for years. We’ve had senior citizens. We’ve had toddlers,” Teddy replied.

The sight transfixed Lilac all the same. As most do at their age, many of them were roughhousing. “Aren’t you worried about them…” Unable to articulate it, Lilac trailed off.

Their tamers aren’t far. It’s imperative for them to understand their strength,” Teddy hummed.

By the time Lilac posed to ask another question, Teddy was already walking toward the next building, and Lilac rushed to catch up. As they walked in, she glanced back at the kids, still running and tumbling in the courtyard—some in shifted form, some not. She wondered how difficult it might be if she were younger, if she’d known sooner.

Entering the medical wing, the strong smell of sterilized equipment and rubber gloves stung Lilac’s nose. The alcoholic cleanser seemed strong enough to taste. Teddy, unbothered, made Lilac wonder whether the job required getting used to the stench or whether everything smelled stronger now. They reached a door: “Ron O’Maley, licensed physician,” engraved on the nameplate.

"You're not coming in with me, are you-" Lilac asked, shifting her duffel bag on her shoulder. Suddenly, the image of fighting to do a pushup in front of the very attractive, no, professional collie shot a blow to Lilac’s already bruised ego.

Teddy shook her head. "No. Now would be a good time for me to take your things to your room; however, if that’s alright." Lilac offered her bag without fuss, “I won’t be long. If you or Ron need assistance, call for me.”

Before Lilac could thank her, Teddy turned and left through the double doors from which they had entered. Lilac’s hand twitched, as if wanting to reach out, but she caught herself, nodded, and then stepped alone into the examination room.

A desk, an exam bed, a treadmill, a weight bench, heart rate monitors, and a dislodged EEG filled the room. Though familiar, the space felt more like a gym than a clinic: sterile but homely.

She climbed onto the tall bed, parchment paper crinkling beneath her. She tried to sit still—she really did—gripping the bed’s edge as she stared ahead and watched the hands of the clock tick. After a minute or two, impatience got the better of her. She hopped off and moved around the room, curiosity guiding her as she examined the unfamiliar equipment.

A few degrees hung on the wall: biomedical engineering from upstate, an LPN, and other certifications. She paused at each frame. Even a bachelor’s from the University of Southern Domestica took center stage. “Wow,” she muttered. The man was as decorated as a birthday cake.

Her eyes dropped to his desk—expected items interspersed with knick-knacks. A signed tennis ball sat beside a framed photo of, presumably, Mr. O’Maley, his wife, and their young daughter.

She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror spanning the back wall. She approached, as if the image might bolt the way she wished she could.

Her small frame contrasted with her thick limbs— a chubby, soft little thing, like a bowl of dumplings—her mother’s laughter echoed.

Big and strong, a wolf fit to move mountains—her father’s words followed.

She flexed her hands, testing her forearms. She studied herself. Turning, she watched her cinnamon-roll tail gently sway.

She looked around the room and noticed that the walls were covered with wolf family diagrams and paintings. In one, a wolf mother and several pups played at a playground. One child was especially large, with eerie black eyes. “Family is forever” was written in bright pink below it. Lilac almost smiled.

Studying the painting, Lilac noticed a patch of a different wall color behind the frame’s edge. Driven by curiosity, she stepped closer, reached up, and gently tilted the painting aside. Behind it, a slab of wall—puttied but unpainted—with deep claw marks gouged into the plaster.

For a moment, she thought she smelled forest and felt her fur rise. She spun defensively, tense. A knock at the door startled her; the painting fell back into place.

A Beagle man entered, pushing a rolling cart of supplies. He wore thick lab goggles and a white puffer jumpsuit, which likely made it a chore to touch his toes. Despite his marshmallow look, it made Lilac wince. Still, the scent of oak wood lingered behind him.

"Ah! Ms. Kimberlite, I've been looking forward to meeting you," he beamed, extending his hand. His jacket squeaked when he moved. "My name is Dr. Ron O’Maley. I'm a physician specializing in lycanthropic mutations."

The contrast hit Lilac hard. After Henna’s intimidating aura and Teddy’s cool professionalism, Dr. O’Maley’s sunny, almost giddy warmth crashed over her like sunlight after a storm. His grin was easy to return, and loosened something in her chest.

He turned, shuffled papers, and hopped into a swivel chair. His jacket hissed. "I've been briefed on your case. While we await your records, I’ll run some tests." He waddled, jacket swishing. "But first, how are you feeling?"

Relief slackened her shoulders under his gentle smile. Lilac exhaled. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.” The words tumbled out, full of fatigue. She rubbed her limbs, wondering when the pain would cease shadowing her. “They said I broke… everything. I tore up my dorm, and I don’t even remember what happened, really.” Questions pressed—How am I alive? How did it happen? How will I know if it comes back?—but all she managed was, “How does that work?”

Ron's eyes lit up almost conspiratorially, "I'm very glad you asked!" He worked as he spoke, attaching a compression cuff to Lilac’s arm and a heart monitor to her finger. He stuck a plastic stick under her tongue until the machine beside him beeped.

“Imagine, if you will, a single cell that can take the form of all other cells in the body, diving thousands of times a second," Ron mumbled her readings between his explanation, marking her temperature as 103.2. Lilac pressed her hand to her forehead. She didn't feel feverish, and he didn't seem concerned. "The process is called a shift, when the body begins generating these mutated cells. Typically, in response to stimuli, which we work to catalog here. The process ends after some time. As these cells die, their bodies undergo forced reconstitution into their original form!"

His speech quickened as he spoke, overwhelmed by his own scientific fascination. It sounded like some convoluted mix of stem cells and steroids. The concept was so outlandish that all Lilac could do was laugh. The sharp sound of Velcro pulling apart let Lilac know the first test was done.

"They said it only happens in wolves? Why?" She questioned. The concept that none of this might be happening if she were a purebred was discouraging, but one she wanted clarified all the same.

“Truthfully, it appears to be an atavism—a dormant trait reawakening for reasons unknown. Our ancestors are shared, but wolves are likely the closest relatives. That’s the leading theory, but you didn’t hear it from me,” he smiled. Lilac cocked her head at the joke. Who else could she hear this from?

He pulled out a small silicone hammer and tapped Lilac’s knee. The reflex shot through her leg like lightning. Her leg struck him square in the chest, knocking him back onto the floor. His puffy jacket cushioned the fall with a deflating hiss.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry Mr O'Maley! I didn’t - I didn’t mean to--” Lilac shimmied off the bed just as Ron held his hand up to pause her apology. He wiggled back and forth until he could leverage himself to his stomach. It was like watching a turtle right itself upward. Lilac bit her lip so as not to giggle.

“Feel free to laugh, Miss Kimberlite, I’m sure I look quite a fool.” He chuckled lightheartedly, “And feel free to call me Ron, everyone does.”

Despite his instruction, she helped him to his feet. Gathering a clipboard and clicking his pen, a seriousness returned to his tone. "Now, as far as your first shift. Can you describe the experience, please? Be as detailed as possible."

Lilac got back up on the bed slowly, her brow furrowed in recollection.

“I heard this...growling. It felt like there was someone there.” Like it’s still there. Watching me. She swallowed around the thought.”

“Does it ever speak to you?” Ron leaned in. “Does it seem ...scared? Angry?”

Lilac shook her head. The look in his eyes didn’t make Lilac feel that this was particularly surprising news to him. If anything, he seemed to have expected it.

"Alright, that’s good to know. In any case, you have my word—this is all confidential. Only staff directly handling your case will be informed. Anyone beyond that is up to you." Vulnerability prickled in Lilac’s chest, her mind flickering unwillingly to her parents, and then to Teddy and Henna. The room suddenly felt tighter. Although she knew neither of them in any meaningful capacity, it was clear they would spend significant time together over the next few weeks, if not months. Silently, Lilac resolved to do what she could to avoid looking like a fool. Surely if she could make it through this impromptu medical disaster, she could make it anywhere. The concept felt strangely like a fresh start.

"Some wolv-patients carry it their entire lives without it activating. It sometimes responds well to medication, and sometimes requires extreme lifestyle changes to accommodate the nature of the condition. It's caused a significant amount of social pariah and rumors, I'm sure you've heard."

“I used to hear about how werewolves transform on the moon, and if they bite you, you’ll turn into one.” As much as Lilac tried to keep her words innocuous, an upward lilt suggested her questioning whether there was any validity to the folklore.

“Regardless of what folly you may have heard, I can assure you that could not be further from the truth. While each patient can vary significantly, there's no reason to believe it could ever be transmissible.”  Ron laughed at the absurdity of her query. “Truly, the nonsense the media comes up with these days.”

"You seem really passionate about this. That's really…cool of you." Lilac said honestly. It was unusual to see dogs, let alone a hound, take so much pride in working with wolves. She wondered what Teddy's reason might be. There was truly something heartwarming to it.

"Working here has...changed my perspective on quite a lot of things. Truthfully, I entered the field hoping to help find a cure. It became quickly apparent that that was not a feasible reality. So I take great comfort in knowing we are able to help our patients lead fulfilling lives despite whatever symptoms may arise."

The Beagle’s words sat heavily on her chest, though she could feel the well-intentioned hope within them.

The treadmill marked the second phase of her physical, he explained. Nodes were placed along her brow bone, around her pointed ears, and over her heart. He let her know to alert him the moment she feels uncomfortable or notices any physical sensation that might indicate a shift is occurring.

The pace started slow, a leisurely walk uphill. Lilac gave a thumbs up, and Dr. O’Maley returned it.

The pace increased. And again. Her ears were ringing.

When was the last time she ate?

Her grip dug into the railing, her claws sank into protective foam. The static was louder now, like nails scratching and scraping the inside of her chalkboard skull.

“Focus,” was written in bold letters behind her eyelids.

She shook her head and kept jogging. Lilac swallowed thickly, saliva pooled in her mouth, and her stomach burned.

She was panting now, the pain in her stomach felt like she had swallowed rocks that were tearing her up from the inside out. She had run faster than this for the ice cream truck. The hollow feeling was making her collapse inward. It felt like her bones were grinding together like flint and steel.

But when was the last time she felt something crunch between her teeth?

Focus, she demanded herself.

Distantly, the beeping grew quicker.

Her limbs didn’t ache anymore. They burned. Her body felt like it was catching on fire, and the metal under her hand refused to bend to her. Her footsteps slammed down with intention, with malice, with a hatred she ripped out of her wildfire stomach and forced into her pace. She was fighting back the hunger; she was fighting back the burning; she was fighting back the biting feeling in her feet. Her mouth dropped, but no air was getting into her lungs. It felt like she was choking on cinders. A growl was pointed at her from somewhere; it didn’t want her to be running. Her legs grew heavier, tripping over themselves as if she were being bitten on her ankles. Her fists tightened, hands clenching, the metal would surely melt if she kept it up, if she believed it would. But they did not yield, and she would not stop. She would be okay if she just focused.

Lilac’s world was spinning; there was nothing beyond the ringing in her ears and the blurry sight of the floor moving beneath her feet. It took everything she had to stay upright. Someone was calling out to her; she had to keep ignoring it. She had to keep focusing, no matter how her vision started to sway.

The heat traveled up her neck and across her face, but she continued on with a single purpose. The heat was spreading, quicker, hotter; it was wrapping itself around her arms and legs. It was digging into her like fangs made of fire if she kept running, maybe she could get away from it.

The smell of roses flickered in the air, and suddenly, like snapped puppet strings, her limbs failed her, and she plummeted to the ground. With a flashing glance at the treadmill vinyl, she expected to fall face-first into the track. Instead, her landing came in the form of two arms looped under hers and her head slamming into the crook of a shoulder. Her limp body was barely suspended above the slowing track, rubbing against her shins and fingertips.

“I apologize for the disruption, but you were not responding,” Teddy explained calmly. The Collie was cradling Lilac with each of her feet planted on the sides of the treadmill, supporting all of her patient’s weight despite her slim frame.

Lilac grumbled into Teddy’s shoulder, attempting to ask a question in her suddenly drowsy mind. Ron found her side as the treadmill finally slowed to a stop, and she was helped to stand.

“How’d you…” Lilac rubbed her dreary eyes as she came back to the center.

“Proper acupressure can pause the transformation, though it doesn’t always stop it.”  Teddy moved a respectable distance away once Lilac was steady on her feet.

"The process takes an absolutely immense amount of energy," Ron ushered them towards the door with urgency, “we can continue this tomorrow during your weigh-in. For now, please get something to eat.”

“Wait,” Lilac paused, looking back at Ron with a furrowed expression. “What you said...can it really not be cured?”

For a long, tense moment, Ron is silent. His mouth tightened into a stained smile that answered for him. Her short ears fell minutely. “I’ll be watching your case closely. I have the utmost confidence in our staff that you’ll be graduating in no time.”

This time, when she smiled, it was harder to smile back. But she did anyway. Family is forever, and apparently so was this.

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[See Chapter Artwork ]

How are we feelin' so far? :3 How would you feel if you were in Lilac's position?

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Page 9-10 [April 5th]