Werecat Choice - Enrike Fluence

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these people come for you, you will leave the school building. And they will come very soon. There is one sure place where they will be waiting for you. The director lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. To hear him, Marianne had to lean forward. “Almost no one knows about him. It is not on modern maps. It is called Wolf Mountain. You will go straight north. The journey will take several days. Someone managed to walk without preparation in a week. You have to handle it. Wolf Mountain is not to be confused. It is the highest and largest peak in the northern rims. The forest that covers it has a special power for werewolves and a scent. You will recognize her immediately, the blood will tell you. This place is the only salvation for you. Please forget your past. Now everything that connects you to him is more dangerous than important. Big changes await you.

      Suddenly Marianne perked up in his chair and pressed his hand to his pocket. He heard a quiet familiar sound. His phone ringtone. But a second later I remembered that the iPhone was no longer in its usual place – in my pocket. A muffled sound came from the director’s desk.

      Only now Marianne thought that he did not want to leave the familiar, reliable and carefree world of school life, and also because of friends. He did not want to leave them. Even Junia Claire – a girl from a parallel class – seemed now a kind and welcome embodiment of his world. He somehow pushed her in physical education, but instead of reprimanding him, he heard only a mischievous laugh. Marianne looked into her eyes in surprise and realized that he clearly underestimated her. She was different from her classmates. Not so important and pompous. Cheerful and kind. Then she seemed friendly to him, after he realized that he really liked her. You might have been able to ask her out on a date in your next PE class, but it certainly won’t. His thoughts were interrupted by the director’s voice.

      “You must go,” he said, getting up from his seat. Marianne was already heading for the door when the director called out to him.

      “Not through this door.

      Marianne turned in amazement and saw that the director was waiting for him at the open door to the next room.

      – Ah… I thought I needed to pack my things? – He agreed to leave the school, but without his things?

      – I’ve already collected everything you need. Please come in.

      Marianne has never been in this room. Private quarters of the head of the school. In the semi-dark room, a curtained square of the window was guessed. The director walked quickly into the darkness and after a short rustle opened a small door. Marianne obediently followed the director through it and found himself on the dimly lit narrow staircase of an abandoned tower. There were few people walking at all, since this staircase was removed from the classrooms. Ahead came the hunched figure of the director. Now to Marianne she looked old and feeble. He never perceived the director as a person with weaknesses. He was a symbol of the confidence and wisdom of the school. All his students, without exception, were afraid of him. And now, seeing the head of the educational institution hurrying up the steps, quacking and touching the wall with his hand, Marianne felt compassion. Before him was a feeble old man.

      The staircase ended and they walked down a dark basement corridor. The director illuminated the way with his telephone flashlight. And Marianne was jealous that someone had a phone, but now he does not. At the end of the corridor, Director Defoster pushed the door open and it opened. Marianne wondered that the school doors were not locked. Even one that no one knows about. Coolness and evening freshness blew from the street. Marianne took the warm jacket handed to him. Standard school outerwear. Immediately near the door, a flashlight illuminated a small bedside table and several pairs of warm shoes. Marianne changed his shoes. The director put a hat on his head and held out a small but heavy backpack.

      – Take care of the food. There are many things you can’t take with you. You have to move fast. It should be enough for a week if spent wisely. And this, – the director held out a small glass bottle, – take one sip every evening. This herbal tincture will help you survive the transformation and soothe your sleep.

      Marianne wanted to ask what the transformation was and when he would see the director again, but his tongue stuck to his throat. The feeling of parting squeezed my heart. Always so domineering and distant, the director now took care of him.

      Defoster squeezed his shoulder and said wearily:

      – Go. And one last word of advice, Marianne. Try to be always human! Good luck.

      Marianne walked quickly away without turning around. North, he said to himself. He, as if intoxicated, could not ponder, appreciate everything that he learned. A narrow path had been trodden from the back door. She turned right and led along the walls. But Marianne went ahead. He jumped down the slope, fell into a snowdrift. I got out and wandered north, knee-deep in snow. Marianne was breathing heavily, but he could have sworn he heard the door creaking shut behind him.

      Oh, how familiar this sound seemed! Marianne glanced back, but the director, the path, and the door could no longer be seen. Just old school walls and a dozen lighted windows. The castle that remains behind has never so attracted with its warmth and comfort. Why was it a hundred times harder to take every step right now? A week ago, Marianne could easily leave the walls of the school and would not even be upset about it. And now it was more difficult. The corridors and staircases of the cramped small castle, immersed in the orange twilight (now such homely), came to mind. Even in the days of the knights, the offspring of noble families, and maybe even kings, lived here. But now this is no longer recognizable. There will be no more lessons on the history of the native land. The blue light of the small windows melted in the air and did not touch the snow. The lamps remained there, high above the peacefully sleeping ground. This is how this light does not see the velvety smooth surface of freshly fallen snow, so Marianne no longer sees herself in the castle. Somewhere up there, by one of these windows, Junia Claire is now sitting doing her homework.

      Something trembled inside, taut, as if wanting to stay, but his legs carried him forward. Thoughts about the time spent at school became a sweet memory, and friends became a big and significant event in life, even if he studied here for less than a year. His heart felt big and hot as never before. This feeling gave strength and

      confidence on an uncharted path. The hope and thoughts that he would return someday were inspiring. Even if this is only a pipe dream, an illusion, it is so necessary now.

      Chapter 2. Dead Man’s Refuge

      Marianne did not notice the cold. The strong gust of wind felt like a light breeze on a hot day. Probably half of the werewolf imperceptibly took over the human. He did not even think that something was wrong with him, that something was changing, mutating in his body. Although, having been alone with yourself, running away from your past and from yourself as you knew yourself, you will involuntarily begin to reflect on the most terrible and impossible. And now Marianne thought of himself. About what kind of monster he can become, what will change in him.

      He didn’t feel sick or tired now. Rather the opposite. But he attributed the lack of loss of strength from a long journey to an emotional upsurge, and at first he did not think about it at all.

      So the first hour passed. Wandering in the forest and in his thoughts, he did not notice the increased physical strength, although he walked straight ahead, on impassable roads and without special equipment. This path will exhaust anyone.

      And Marianne easily overcame uneven slopes and ascents. Sometimes deep pits and bumps, tree roots or frozen bushes appeared under the snow. Stumbling, losing a step, falling into deep snow, the young man walked forward.

      The snow crammed into his shoes, melted and now gave Marianne unpleasant sensations. He stopped twice, leaned against a tree and hurriedly shook the ice out of his shoes. But my legs only became even more chilled. Annoyed Marianne began to think about a warm shelter, where you can warm up and dry your feet. Fatigue nevertheless crept up and began to shackle the body. Now Marianne was looking both ways, trying to listen and wondering where to hide for the rest of the night. There were only dense

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