A beautiful shade of hurt and soul

While momentarily consumed with muffled familiarity -the complacency of travel and the exalted sensation of magic- I'm allowed to recline, to bask in the grim solace that was the rearward cavity of shared occupancy. There was pleasure in the assertion of a predator, the primal instinct of a confident hunter. Courage spurts into my introverted, skittish personality. The she-wolf offers her best smile; and the grin seems good-natured, even empathetic, at least until it widens and canines poke out in their unsettling way, 'call more often,' her tone slips, cascading into a murmur, 'I wouldn't force the change...if you did it willingly.' The chasm of silence to follow her chide is reply enough. After all...we (I) didn't need to actually give voice toward  displeasure or unease, she could feel the sensations crawl over us (me). The she-wolf knew those fears; they were after all...in plentiful supply. One heart, one body -- two alterations, two halves of the same soul. This power is unlike my other gifts. The she-wolf is me (mine,) as much as tail, legs or wings are. Her awareness isn't sickness...but addition. This magic was nursed - or more apt, sired - from the fractured slivers of personality which never matured to fruition. She was hand crafted - ligament, bone and folical - a beam of pure vitality amidst tragedy. The willful combination of raw will, instinct and magic. I stretch forward, timidly abandoning comfort in favor of productivity. Nostrils swell greedily, but the persistent weather has bled out variety and there was nothing but wet, earthen...earthen...Something...is close... 'Something? Or someone,' she corrects, grinning wider and flashing those horrible, beautiful teeth. This saturated environment irritably dampens our (my) canine senses -- still these nostrils suckle the moldy current uselessly; their inbred ability to distinguish and separate has been reduced significantly. Small, furred feet ease off their canter as another wave of uneasiness threatens to override that fresh sense of assertiveness. We (I) press through the grove of foliage, slowing, mindless of leafy fingers who leave memorable trails as they collide and are brushed aside. Rising from the span of stunted greenery, these predatory irises lift just in time to see the solid frame of a towering man. His charred body is faintly haloed by mist -- vibrant tattoo-like markings zig across his countenance. For a moment, she (I) are ensnared, suprised. Caught by the startling beauty of this exotic... Panic rushes in...hot, uncontrollable! My ruffled hindquarters immediately stiffen and their rump shrinks into the damp litter. My tail flies upward, narrowly escaping entrapment. Caramel and cream feathers balloon from their lax hold, their violent swing rams into adjacent branches and unsettles a wild spray of cool liquid! The she-wolf thaws from transfixation and responses...taking rein  of our emotion and reactions. Her insistence is the wall which halts the tide of skirting emotion...countering those anxious, baseless shortcomings with strength! Canine lips withdraw, flashing those ivory needles - while a rumbling, warning snarl ricochets toward the humid sky. Feathers are tugged inward, gliding to occupy their span against our (my) carriage. I hunker in the corner of our occupied space, doe eyes becoming wide, childlike; intuitively letting the wolf run free. OC: Nora is in her wolf form! References here: Here & Here