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Werewolves, everyone was pretty familiar with the concept; humans who transformed into wolves. How often they transformed and how much humanity they had in their wolf form, or wolf tendencies in human form, was something that changed from story teller to teller. Some went for a traditional approach of only on the full moon, while others changed with sunset or by will. Many involve pack tendencies, but whether or not they employed the outdated alpha-beta-omega dynamics or strayed from them was also up to the other. Often they’ll keep traits they like and toss aside the ones they don’t. It was one his many dreams to be a werewolf growing up, who knew he’d actually be one.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t like any of the books he read. No controlling it by will, no turning with the moon or sunset. Instead of all that, he only ever turned when there was a certain flower blooming in his garden. He should’ve realized something was up with the flower when his parents would never let it touch, ever, no matter what. Oh, and he won’t turn back human until the flower goes back into hibernation. Which means he’s currently stuck as a wolf for either a few months or a few decades, as his parents explained to him.
The flower was a bit, unpredictable, his parents once only had a day of it blooming, only for a week later the flower keeping them stuck in wolf form for nearly ten years. He was born a week before the tenth year anniversary of it, and the flower went into hibernation after his first breath as a wolf, his second as a human. It stayed in stasis for another twenty years after that, bringing him to where he is now.
He glared at the flower, it looked similar to nightshade, but instead of producing a deadly berry it held a gem in the center of it’s petals.
That must be the center of his families curse, because let’s be real, being unable to be fully human or fully human at will but instead forced to be one or the other was not just inconvenient, but harsh.
Nearing his snout closer to the gem-like center of the flower, he opened his jaw carefully wrapping his fangs around the gem. With a snap and a tug, it was over; not the curse, but the boy. His parents were to afraid to ever try touching the flower, and now they’re too afraid to have another child lest it make the same mistake their first born did. They cannot escape the curse, for the flower would simply adapt; now it no longer looked like nightshade, a wolfsbane flower instead.
The flower was kind enough to go back into stasis and leave the child a wolf, allowing his parents to easily bury him near the flower, a reminder of what happened.
When it bloomed once again, the flower was harsher than ever before, many more wolves appearing further away as it had the fuel it needed to gain stronger. It still thrives to this day, any wolf or human getting closer to killing it being killed instead and adding to the pile.