Chapter 3: Two Wolves, One Cub
Surely it wasn't his mind or ears playing tricks on him, right? He could've sworn—absolutely sworn—that he had just heard the predator talk.
But as bizarre as that was, another thing gnawed at him even more.
'It mentioned something about... a baby boy?'
His pulse quickened. Is it talking about him?!
That would explain everything—the reason why he couldn't speak, why moving felt like dragging lead weights. Is he... trapped...? in a newborn infant's body?
The thought was terrifying. Confusing. And above all—impossible. Yet, what other explanation could there be?
Before he could process it further, another voice rang out.
"Fenrir! What are you doing there?"
He stiffened. Who's there? His eyes darted around—or at least, tried to—but the limited control over his newborn body made it impossible. He couldn't see the source of the voice, he couldn't even tilt his head if his life depended on it.
Then, as if answering his silent plea, another figure came into his view.
Another wolf.