Split | Aden
The moon hung close to him. He could feel it, like a weight on his back, like a brush against his fur, like a packmate.
They were wilder tonight, ranging, running farther. Splitting and spreading. A scent lured his nose away from them. There was something else. It called to him but his hackles raised at the same time.
He stopped in the sudden clearing, light from the moon almost blinding. They ran in a circle, weak arms raised high, reaching for the moon. His moon. He snapped his jaws, panting at them. They were small and breakable but he knew somehow they were strong in this dance. They stopped suddenly, and a crackle of energy ran through him, snout to tail.
He stumbled back, curling in on himself, one arm held up to protect his head. He paused, realizing that it was an arm and not a wolf’s leg, and tripped over his feet again. He was in the treeline by now, and could not readily see the witches--they had to be witches, right?--not even the one standing closest to him.
He didn’t wait to learn more, though, and dashed off through the woods, moving as quickly as possible. He felt horribly vulnerable, though, and turned towards his home, skidding to a halt in front of his hidden box. He pulled on the shorts quickly, but only gave his house a glance. No, he couldn’t go there. But where could he go?
Adam’s apartment was closer, and so Ben took off running, skirting from shadow to shadow as best he could, paying little mind to the concrete and asphalt tearing at his feet. Finally he stood, breathing heavily in front of Adam’s apartment, and knocked quickly, casting glances around himself the whole time.