After a moment, she finally agreed and slowly retreated behind him. The girl was safe for now.
"Will I die?" she murmured, her voice broken, trying to shrink herself into an inconspicuous corner.
He didn't answer, but simply tossed her a new deck of cards. He sat down opposite her, gesturing for her to shuffle and deal the cards, and they played a poker game together.
"Don't hurt her." The moon slowly rose, and he silently warned the beast in his heart: "It wasn't her fault, don't take revenge on her."
"What do you take me for?" The change began, and he heard the wolf reply angrily: "Do you think I'm a brainless idiot?"
The next day, he opened his eyes and saw Annushka wiping his wounds with a towel dampened with warm water. He had to admit that it felt incredibly good; it had been so many years since anyone had treated him so gently.
The wolf slept, but didn't leave, also indulging in this moment of tenderness. Just as promised, the wolf didn't harm Annushka, but some facts were undeniable and couldn't be ignored. They were merging, in a dangerous way, and becoming one was only a matter of time.
"You're not a beast," Annushka whispered, unscrewing the cap and feeding him water.
He drank, remaining silent.
"You didn't attack her."
Annushka was taken away. Though he couldn't be bothered to ask about her fate, he couldn't forgive those who had done such a thing.
"I'm not an animal," he said slowly, clearly enunciating, pacing back and forth in the room.
"Wolves always attack humans; that's common sense," the scientist retorted matter-of-factly, as if he held the truth forever.
He stopped, turned his back to the wall, and roared.
"I'm not a wolf!"
The beast within him was raging, restless: "Look what they've done!" The wolf's throat trembled, emitting a rumbling howl: "They've almost crushed you!"
"No," he said softly, a hint of uncertain vulnerability in his voice. He himself didn't know what he could still rely on.
The water prison stripped him of his senses, leaving him utterly destitute. He could neither see nor hear, and with each breath came only the pungent smell of disinfectant. He floated on the water, accompanied only by the wolf and his brain, and even then, for minutes, the brain abandoned him. They were pushing him to his physical limits, cutting off all food supplies and giving him only a fixed amount of water each day to sustain life. They locked him in this water prison, like lying in a coffin—numb, lonely, and utterly exhausted. Night had fallen, but he couldn't sleep. One hour, two hours, three…six, seven…ten…twelve…time flowed by, emptiness, nothingness, boundless and headless…
"Don't suppress me," said the wolf.
"I am not a beast," he said.
"Neither am I," said the wolf.
"What do you want from me?" he asked.
He sat in a corner of the bed, his knees supporting his chin, and pulled up his loose clothes.
He knew exactly what they wanted.
"We want to know your secrets," the scientist replied.
No, they were far more greedy than that; they wanted everything. They wanted to know how werewolves came to be, how they controlled themselves, because once they had this information, they could create their own new species—with a more powerful metabolic system and more acute senses. They wanted to understand him, and then find a way to tame him.
They whipped him, handcuffed him, and nearly slit their own wrists as he tried to remove them.
"How many werewolves does a 'swarm' typically contain?"
"Is the 'swarm' ruled by geography or blood ties?" "
How many 'swarms' exist in Britain?"
"How do you communicate?"
"Who is your leader?"
"What is your position in the 'swarm'?" "
How do you hide? "
"Have you mated?"
"How do you mate?"
"We have ways to make you talk!"
No, he thought, you haven't. You can only make me scream, but you can't get anything useful out of me. There's a big difference here.
He ran, watching them.
Meanwhile, the wolf within him gleamed fiercely.
It was another full moon night.
He had missed Christmas, New Year's Day, and his own birthday. The "swarm" still hadn't found him.
"They'll find us," the wolf said, sharpening his claws. "The 'swarm' will never abandon us."
The sooner the better, he hoped. If he was too late, he couldn't guarantee they'd find a human or a monster.
He saw heavily armed guards escorting a man towards them, blindfolded and handcuffed—clearly a werewolf playmate the scientists had prepared for the full moon. The thought of their despicable actions made him nauseous. They opened the door and rudely shoved the man inside.
He sat in a corner, knees to his chin, head slightly raised.
The man cursed under his breath, struggling to untie the ropes binding his wrists and ripping off the blindfold.
"Damn it!" the man cursed, then straightened his back and looked around. He pressed his lips together, his gaze passing over the ceiling, the cameras, the loudspeakers, finally settling on him.
He heard the beast within him hiss warningly when the man looked at him.
"I don't think this place is short of money," the man complained. "If they're locking us both up together, couldn't they at least give us a bigger room?"
He figured he'd be here for a while.
"How long have you been here?"
He didn't answer, just tilted his head and squinted at him.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked, his voice weary and hoarse.
The man looked at him in surprise. "Uh…Afghanistan. How did you know?"
"You're a soldier," he said. "Your hairstyle, your tan, your mannerisms—it's military style. You're a soldier, but they somehow managed to bring you here, which means you're probably injured. The tan only goes up to your wrists, so it's not sunbathing. You smell like dry sand, and you're filled with despair; you must have been wounded in battle. Where can you see a battlefield? Iraq or Afghanistan."
Simple.
A silence fell between them. The wolf stopped its stealthy advance, lowered its head, pricked up its ears, and its eyes gleamed with interest.
"This…is amazing," the man exclaimed. "You know so much just from looking at me?"
"Not just looking, but also smelling," he replied.
The wolf raised its head and exhaled sharply.
"Smell…me?" The man tilted his head slightly and asked, "You can smell me from there?"
He could do so much more than that. He could hear his blood flowing, feel his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his lungs, and his rising body temperature.
"It's a full moon tonight," he said tactfully.
The man shrugged, clearly unaware of his implication.
He grinned, revealing his teeth, and the wolf took a few more steps forward.
The man shook his head, looking bewildered: "They just appear out of nowhere, kidnap people without asking any questions, and if there's any problem, you know, they'll treat you with fists and bullets."
Of course he knew, perfectly well.
The wolf began circling the man.
"I bet you're the key person, I'm just a foil." The soldier said, pointing to the listening devices in the cage. The cameras, microphones, and large screens reminded them again that they were being monitored. He even poked the observer closest to them on the screen with his finger. "This thing looks pretty convincing. I guess you're some kind of special person. Can I know who you are?"
"Who I am is irrelevant." He nodded slightly. "What I am is what matters."
"What?" The soldier asked, puzzled.
The wolf took a few more steps closer.
"That's right. I am… to put it simply… a werewolf."
The soldier gave a bitter smile. "Damn!" he said.
The wolf stopped, staring at him in surprise.
The soldier raised his hand to his forehead, a string of curses sliding out, as if he were reciting some kind of prayer.
He narrowed his eyes again.
"People don't usually say that."
"What do people usually say?"
Freak, liar, devil.
"Ordinary people know that werewolves don't exist."
The man pursed his lips. "Then I guess I'm probably not an ordinary person."
His name was John, a soldier who had served in Afghanistan.
"There will always be rumors." John sat on the floor, leaning against the edge of the bed. "In the high mountains, there are wolves and big cats. At night, if the weather is good, we often hear some unusual sounds, like howls or something. They are at least hundreds of miles away from us, like in those fairy tales the old lady tells, where people see strange things. But you see, you know."
Considering the reactions of the others, John was far better than them.
The wolf lay down and looked at him curiously.
"A werewolf, a real, living werewolf. Back in Bartz, we always joked about this: what would you do if you found out a patient wasn't human?"
He blinked, and the wolf looked up at him questioningly.
"You're a doctor," he said slowly. "A military medic."
"I used to be." He corrected.
"Oh, there's always something wrong."
They talked about everything; they played cards, and
...