Portrait

Crashing through the forest, I swept leaf filled branches effortlessly out of my way, and run. Behind me, his roar of frustration carried through the trees. I urged my muscles forward, faster. He would catch me, it was inevitable, he was stronger, fitter and more used to the change.

New, powerful legs carried me out into the Derbyshire countryside. I felt the horrible skim of insects gather in my fur and I shuddered in disgust. Cool air tickled my nostrils, carrying a bewildering mix of damp leaves and earth. Birds exploded with a shriek into the canopy as I passed and I snarled as their cries reverberated through my head. The rich essence of summer in the deep night air. I refused to see to look down, I would see…I would have to face what I had become.
He had assaulted me in the worst possible way, stealing my control, stealing my life as he forced the change on me. I detested him for it. I twisted down the hill, clearing a small brook where a tiny trickle of water wrapped slowly round the twigs and stones in its path. The wind changed and I caught a scent of him, and the others. Their powerful canine musk carrying through the quiet night as a threat, the girl’s strawberry shower cream, the oily odour of the young man, flowery talcum powder of the older woman. Alexander’s intoxicating musk carried strongest. Even after only such a short time in their company I could identify them and I shuddered. I didn’t like, didn’t want this… ability. I could smell the small mammals quivering in terror in the grass at the trunks of the trees. Above I knew the owls watched me pass, could hear the nervous chirruping of birds nesting within reach. All this I recognised above the thunderous pounding of my heart, the rush of blood round my system, the crackle of twigs and leaves. My muscles and skeleton strained and cried out in agony. I was still reeling from the unexpected changes driven by the moon.

Reaching the bottom of the valley I burst from the cover of the woodland into an open meadow, bathed in silver from the full moon. I fought the urge building in my chest to howl my reverence to the Goddess. The tall flowers and grasses brushed against my calf, plants that should be mid-thigh barely passing my powerful knees. Lingering drops of rain transferred themselves onto my fur, working their cold way to my skin. They tugged at my new flowing tail fur, in itself a strange sensation stretching from my spine.

Smelling the rich scent of water, the comforting sweetness in the air, drew me like a magnet. The moon’s rays were inexplicably warm on my shoulders and against my will I found myself relaxing.I spent hours on and around the water; it was my home from home. Behind me, I could hear the crashing but my aching, tired body had no more run in it. If I had to face him, if I had to accept it I would do so on my own terms. My muscles ached, and I soon slowed.

Reaching the edge of the lake, where I kept my yacht, I waded in. Ripples spread out across the still water. The icy liquid wrapped itself round my legs, floating my long fur across the surface. As the water lapped at my thighs, I bent forward, plunging my long muzzle into the water. Water splashed up to my eyes and over my forehead and I closed my eyes. Drawing deep mouthfuls over my tong, I lifted my head to pour the liquid down my parched throat.

Refreshed, I straightened slowly. Taking a deep breath I decided to face my fear. Staring down into my reflection I studied what I had become. Staring down the length of my new slender muzzle, I gaze into small blue eyes, gleaming circles in a bed of short golden fur. A wet, dark nose twitched, identifying waves of aromas carrying in the still air. Flicking and twitching as I listened to the range of noises that reached across the lake, triangular ears rested at the top of my head, stretching up to the moonlight from a thick mane, dripping with water. Thick golden fur cascaded across broad, muscled shoulders, long strands cloaking my usually generous breasts. Shorter fur clung to my powerful deliciously narrow waist. With a twist, I peer at my tail, sweeping it across the silvery water, the fur shivering in the breeze along the long limb.

Stretching out my hand, I stared at my long, powerful fingers, flexing their delicate lengths. Watching the fur shimmer and the new sharp nails shine in the moonlight I puzzle at the streak of darker longer fur stretching from my elbow to the back of my wrist

Behind me I hear a piercing howl joined in rapid chorus with the rest of the pack as they reached the edge of the meadow. Drawing my jaw over my upper lip, I flatten my ears to my head. Catching a glimpse at my reflection I tilt my head to one side. Angry looks very effective in wolf form I am pleased to note. Sharp teeth gleaming white in the moonlight. Turning, my movements shatter the reflection and I face the rapid approach of the pack.

The six of them spread out across the meadow, Alexander leading the way, his black fur positively reflecting the moonlight. As they reached the shore line they stopped, and the growl I felt building in my throat vibrated across my tongue. Alexander pressed forward, surging the water against my legs as he waded in. I fought the urge to step back at his approach, refusing to be dominated. He would regret the day he turned me into a werewolf.

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This is my, hopefully encouraging, entrant for a challenge that I have set in the full moon rising group- for writers to create a portrait in a similar manner to an artist. I hope that I am not the only entrant! See how much deeper we can go. Please let me know how effective this is as a portrait- let me know how you see her…

An identity, a portrait is more than a name, or an image!

Part of my way of getting to know a character before (or even after to help me edit and develop) feeling my way through a story! Often accomopanied by a profile, that should follow shortly as a point of reference!

Scribbler, painter, photographer and designer; creative alround and proud.

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