Teen Wolf: Second Howl Chapter 15 15 Burden

I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

spatréon/emperordragon

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Chapter Fifteen: Beast of Burden

Richard tossed a bundled pile of clothes at , his grin wide and unapologetic. "Might wanna stop flashing the furniture, kid."

I snatched the clothes out of the air with both hands, spinning away from him in a flurry of movent, already fumbling into my shirt like it was armor. The adrenaline that had surged through during the hunt was fading fast, leaving behind the sudden, awkward realization that I was very, very naked. And six. And standing in the middle of a cabin with two fully dressed adults who were trying very hard not to look directly at .

Not exactly the kind of scene you dream about.

By the ti I made it to the table—now fully clothed, thankfully—Emily was already seated, casually poking at her food like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. She didn't lift her eyes from her plate when she spoke. "Sit, pup. Eat sothing."

I hesitated, hovering just beside the chair, then shook my head. "I already ate," I said slowly, unsure how they'd take it. "A wild boar attacked … I, uh… dealt with it. Ate a bit."

Emily's expression didn't change. She didn't blink or raise an eyebrow. Just kept nudging her fork through her food. "No point in letting the rest of it go to waste."

Richard started to rise, chair scraping lightly on the floor. "I'll help him—"

Emily's hand snapped out before he could finish the sentence, her palm flat and firm in the air like a stop sign. "Sit down."

And just like that, Richard froze halfway out of his seat. Her voice didn't waver. It didn't need to. It held the weight of command, of expectation, and Richard sat back down without another word.

Emily finally looked up at . Her gaze was level, assessing, but not unkind. "He's a proper werewolf now," she said, nodding at like she was confirming sothing she already knew. "Even if he's still small. He can manage."

I t her eyes and nodded once, the seriousness of the mont settling into my bones. "Alright," I said quietly.

She gave a short nod in return. "Bring it back whole. We'll make use of everything—the bones, the hide, the at. Waste nothing."

I turned toward the door, but stopped short, one hand resting on the fra. There was still sothing I didn't know—sothing I needed to.

"Wait," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "How do I turn into a werewolf again? Not all the way. Just… the in-between version."

Emily leaned back slightly in her chair, her expression unreadable but intrigued. "How did you beco a wolf earlier?"

I furrowed my brow. "I… didn't think about it. I just felt it. Like sothing pulled forward and I followed."

She smirked, a glint of amusent in her eyes. "Then do that."

I looked down at my hands. Focused. Reached inward—not with thought, but with instinct. With sothing deeper, older, wild.

Flex.

Claws slid out from my fingertips like silk-covered razors, smooth and quiet and full of promise. My bones shifted beneath my skin, subtle and seamless, not like breaking—more like rembering what they'd always been.

I turned toward the mirror hanging on the far wall.

The reflection that stared back was still … but also not.

My brow had thickened and sharpened, my ears subtly pointed. My jaw was stronger, more angular, with elongated canines gleaming like ivory blades. And my eyes—my eyes had changed completely. They burned with a golden-yellow light, glowing softly in the dim cabin. Like twin moons suspended in the dark.

And suddenly the world opened.

I could see every tremor of motion outside the window. Every flick of a leaf as the wind touched it. Every heartbeat of a tiny creature moving beneath the brush. The shadows no longer concealed—they revealed. The forest no longer looked dark or nacing. It was alive. Clear. Beautiful. I breathed in and the scent of the boar I had killed earlier hit like a mory brought to life. Still fresh. Still near.

When I had been in my full wolf form, I was too overwheld by sensation, too swept up in the chase to appreciate it.

But now—now I understood.

This wasn't just strength.

It was awareness. A rging of human and beast. A sharpened clarity that made everything make sense.

Without another word, I leapt out the cabin door and vanished into the trees. The forest welcod . I dodged trees like they weren't even there, vaulted fallen logs without breaking stride, and slipped through branches that should have tangled but didn't. My body knew what to do before I did. I wasn't thinking—I was being.

The boar was right where I'd left it. Its massive form still sprawled across the forest floor, blood seeping into the roots and leaves below. It was huge. Easily five tis my weight.

I knelt beside it and shifted—just enough to retract the claws, just enough to carry.

Then I lifted it.

The weight should have crushed . But it didn't. It settled across my shoulders like it belonged there. Like this burden was easy to carry, and my body agreed.

If anyone saw —just a six-year-old boy with golden eyes and blood sared across his face, calmly carrying a dead animal a few tis his size—they'd scream. Maybe run.

But to ?

It felt right.

I sprinted back, the boar thudding softly against my shoulder with each step. The image must've looked ridiculous—a child carrying what looked like a collapsed sofa. But I didn't stumble. I didn't slow. The cabin ca into view through the trees, and with a final bound, I crossed the threshold.

I stepped inside, gently lowering the boar onto the kitchen floor with surprising grace. It landed with a heavy thump.

Emily looked up from her seat at the table. For the first ti since I'd known her, her mouth curved into sothing small and subtle—but unmistakably proud. "It's a big one," she said calmly. "Should last us a while."

Richard let out a low, impressed whistle. "Show-off."

I gave a small smile in return, but the mont was already slipping away from .

A yawn cracked its way out of my chest, unbidden and fierce. The thrill had passed. The forest was behind . The hunt was over. And now, all that was left was the quiet weight of exhaustion.

I shuffled away from the kitchen, past the mirror that no longer surprised , past the worn couch, and into my small room.

I collapsed into bed, limbs tangled and heavy. Didn't even bother with the covers.

Sleep reached for , gentle and absolute.

And for the first ti in my short life, I wasn't running away.

I was running toward sothing.