Chapter Text
Wolfing out felt like Enid had dove into a sea of rainbow caramel frappuccinos and sugar syrup and was drinking it all to the brim. Her heart was beating a thousand times a minute, her eyes were taking in a million details she couldn't focus on: sounds, smells, images that the human part of her mind, even if it caught them, couldn't process because they were so different from her normal sense of the world.
She felt like she was drowning, sometimes going under the water of wolf essence, sometimes surfacing and taking a shuddering breath of ragged, disjointed human thoughts.
And she felt powerful. No, that's not it - all-powerful. She wasn't afraid of anything anymore, she didn't need to be. SHE was the apex predator now, the main danger here. No one could look down on her or hurt her. She was free. Absolutely free, and the moon was calling her to experience that freedom.
The moon was calling her to hunt.
In that second, Sinclair understood why her mother had been so terrified of Enid not turning, and so obsessed with it. For a moment, she herself was afraid that she might never feel this freedom, this safety and euphoria. No wonder wolves were almost never addicted to any substances - what could compare to the high of transformation?
But the moment passed, and the euphoria was broken by a smell that made her concentrate, and the fur on the back of her neck stood on end. Blood and another predator. Dangerous one. Encroaching on her territory, on her pack. On her freedom.
Enid had always thought that in a fight-or-flight situation, she would be the one who flight. But now she was not a kitten with claws, she was a wolf. And yes, that predator was dangerous, but so was she. And this was her time, blessed by the moon and Fenrir. He wouldn't even know what had happened to him. So she didn't want to run - she wanted to fight.
A quiet, experimental growl escaped her chest. But once she got the hang of it, the wolf growled louder, deep and rolling, her ears twitching in satisfaction after the growl died down somewhere between the trees. She broke into a run, heading towards the scents of Wednesday and the other predator.
*
The fight stirred her blood in a way she had never imagined. Maybe when she became human again, it would terrify her, but for now, her wolf was in control. And she enjoyed the fight and the chance to test her strength against a worthy opponent.
Unfortunately, too used to playing and keeping herself under control, Enid instinctively tried to take over the animal part when she saw Wednesday. And in the end, she missed the attack.
Now Hyde had her pinned against a tree and was clearly going to rip her head off. The human inside her thrashed violently, trying to pull herself together, but suddenly it only made things worse. Movements like breathing which were natural just a moment ago had become difficult, the loss of coordination and attempts to get used to a different center of gravity and the length of her limbs did not even allow her to hold Hyde's hands normally.
The wolf inside howled in disappointment when the stupid human part, unable to control the body normally, only lightly slashed the enemy's stomach with its hind legs, instead of leaning on him and releasing his intestines.
The shot saved the situation - not so much because it distracted Hyde, but because the human part retreated into the depths in fear, allowing the wolf to fully regain control of the body. She grinned in satisfaction, rising to her paws after hitting the tree. Hyde was an idiot. The shot distracted them both, but he didn't take the chance, somehow deciding that the man with the gun was more dangerous than her. She would make sure that this would be his last mistake.
The wolf stretched contentedly, enjoying the control she had over her body, and jumped. With her body being fully under her control, it was easy enough to deal with Hyde. He had underestimated her and paid for it. She bared her teeth contentedly, sniffing her prey. The crunch of a branch distracted her attention. The man with the gun - the sheriff, the human part of her mind suggested from the depths of her consciousness. Tyler's father - approached, warily shifting his gaze between her and the prone body. The wolf growled warningly when he took another step closer. He wanted to try to fight her for her prey? Let him take his chances.
"Are you able to you understand me?" the man raised his hands, pointing the gun to the side, but Enid knew that it could be pointed at her in a split second. She tilted her head, interested. "You're Enid Sinclair, Addams' friend, aren't you? I need to get Tyler before the others get here. He's an Outcast too, shouldn't you guys have each other's backs?"
The sheriff tried to take a step, but stopped again at another low growl. Tyler wasn't pack, he was prey. She owed him nothing.
"They'll lock him up like they locked his mother up. And he'll die in there, just like she did." The man's voice wavered, but that wasn't what Enid cared about.
Someone else wanted her prey. Her FIRST prey. She bared her teeth, slowly walking around the body so that it was between her and the man. Quickly lowering her head to the face of the prone pup, she sniffed the wounds her claws had left with satisfaction. Blood. And the smell of a predator, danger and death, which she would now always associate with the delight of victory. And which she could find at any moment. After all, tracking prey was also fun.
But for that, he needed to be out of prison. The she-wolf snorted discontentedly and turned away, heading into the forest, ignoring the scurrying behind her. She needed to try to find Wednesday.