Chapter Text
Artful was certain that this monster had it out for him. “Pursuer,” if he remembered correctly. Every time he would approach him, whether by accident or intentionally, Artful would be snarled at with Pursuer’s rotten breath. It didn’t help that it was somewhat late into the evening either, any darker and it’d likely be impossible to see him, even if he wasn’t using his weirdly disgusting camouflage. Artful shuddered at hearing the sound, feeling lucky that the beast never wanted to go for her- he’d gag whenever he sniffed her too closely.
She took a cold breath in and sighed. The altitude of the teapot observatory made everything so miserably frigid, a double-edged sword. The cold made running around less miserable- she could sprint for a little while longer, and could cool off just as fast, but she always found the civilians to be faster. It didn’t help that he chose to be a magician, not some olympian like half of the people there. Sure, running around and wrestling patients in a ward meant you’d have to have some muscle, but this was getting absurd! Artful cornered her next target and conjured up a small brick to lug at their head, only for said target to duck out of the way from a familiar white-faced monster..
Aaaannnd the brick landed right into the side of its head.
Pursuer was thrown off course from the poor civilian and hit the floor with a sickening thud, said victim scampering away just after Artful could land a swift strike on their shoulder. Pursuer took a moment to get up, and when his eyes met hers, Artful’s veins ran cold with an icy fear.
He rose to his back legs and a low rumble rose from his throat, causing it to wobble with every growl. He stomped closer, leaving bloody footprints in his wake (something she didn’t even notice until now- he was soggy with blood). As he approached, Artful took a shaky step back, shifting his stance to one that hopefully intimidated Pursuer, but did little to halt his approach. Pursuer was inches from her face now, and what she thought was going to be another stinky snarl turned into a visceral roar that she could only compare to the sound of a total downpour in the throat of some ugly animal. It sent small strings of spit flying out of his mouth and onto her face before he scampered away on all fours in the direction of the civilian. Artful stood in place for a moment questioning how she was still alive, but she hushed her terror and wiped off the spit with her glove. She was thankful she always wore waterproof makeup- maybe not the mascara, that was expensive, but body makeup. She tried to shake out the saliva, before simply settling on finding a stream somewhere and dunking her gloves into it to wash off the grime.
Artful adjusted his hat and stole a quick look at the sky, a nervous habit he adopted ever since… He wouldn’t think of that right now- and noticed how dark out it was, and even moreso that dark clouds were crawling over the sky like a lynx to a rabbit. The sun was almost peeking below the horizon, and the moon was rising. That was as much as he noticed before he covered his eyes with gloved hands and turned away from the sky. He learned his lesson all those years ago, and swore to never make that mistake twice. Thunder in the sky did nothing to ease his nerves. Even if there was no rain yet, that was always a telltale sign that a storm would drench him head to toe, a nightmare considering his change of clothes was back at his makeshift camp. That was miles below the sky right now. She had no idea how Pursuer found his way up here either- Artful had to practically beg one of those teapot-headed stone constructs to take her to the observatory. Not her strongest moment. She continued her search with a bit more paranoia nipping at her heels, and it wasn’t just from the inevitable downpour.
Artful continued in a nonsensical direction until his mindless trance was interrupted by the dreadful screams of a civilian. As he snapped his head in the sound’s direction, a poor guy in a knight helmet was being swung at by Pursuer. She had clearly taken a beating, but the scream likely came from the terrified, pale, rather uninteresting looking civilian behind her. Pursuer was a strong beast, he had the crusty blood under his nails to prove it, but there wasn’t a way to take out two at once, and one would surely escape if he kept missing. At this rate, you’d imagine it was a competition with a chicken-addicted swordsman. Why Artful made that comparison in specific was unknown. She decided to stop being useless and go help with the feisty knight, but decided to change course to the pale one when she saw her completely parry Pursuer’s sword with her bare hands. Pursuer had more guts than she did- if she saw that in front of her two eyes, she’d likely pack up and leave. Whatever these guys were eating had to be either the weaker civilians or straight nails.
Artful sprinted across the bridge that connected the two islands together, only for a large teapot to slam down behind him moments later, effectively cutting off his exit. When Pursuer noticed Artful, his ugly grin faltered, his eyes met his own, and that told Artful something very clear, ‘What the FUCK are you doing?’ He shoved down that mild terror again, raindrops falling onto his forehead miming sweat that dripped down his head, and swung at the dread-filled robloxian, striking them in the side of the head. They recoiled and stumbled to the side. The knight whirled around to see what was going on behind her, but that gave the hungry monster she was just thwarting an opening to full-send into her back. Swing after swing tore her shirt and flesh up, and she whipped back around (slinging globs of blood over her accomplice and Artful) to hit Pursuer in the nose so hard he froze in place, clutching his more-than-likely broken snout.
Artful swung his wand again, walloping the pale person hard enough to where they fell flat on their back, nervously whimpering as they got their hands to prop themselves up and scoot away from him, rainwater curling around their head and following their eyes, hooking with the crease of their button nose and trailing down their mouth.
Or maybe it was their tears. It was impossible to tell with the rain.
Artful began to focus, attempting to summon a wall he could repurpose to lug a brick at them, but something else stole her attention. Something wild clawed up his spine and cooed at him to search for something. No matter how he fought, Artful’s hands fell to his sides. Maybe he didn’t even want to fight it, the way it promised him there would be no harm to come from listening. It sang to him, and all he had to do was find something to look at, to perceive, to study.
Pursuer.
Artful let her gaze wander to the wicked monster, barely processing the confused gaze the shrieker gave her as she dropped her aggression like a light switch was being flipped in her head. She stepped around the knight to give herself a better line of sight almost automatically, but this was supposed to happen, for the wild told her this was a good thing, that she was doing something good. That feeling was just too enticing to push away like the mild terror she had for the object of her fixation.
As soon as the wild had come, it left like a lover in the night. Artful was left blinking away his confusion. He knew that feeling many times over, but he couldn’t shake his puzzlement. The natural fauna on the observatory was next to none, so for this trance to end so swiftly, what had he seen?
The only things that he could immediately see were the knight and Artful’s own, picky accomplice, both parties sending swing after swing into each other, blood from both staining the grass and trickling down open gashes in each. From the amount of blood, either one looked like they could topple over at any second. Artful studied Pursuer’s handiwork on the knight’s muscular back, flesh around her open gash having turned a bright red around the wound site. Blood poured from it like a waterfall, dirt and grime already in the epidermis from their combat.
What worried him was that he never once gagged at the sight. Killing people himself never felt good to him, but something about the sight of open, bleeding flesh said something to him.
It made him hungry.
Artful slowly put her hand on her belly as she grew queasy with dread, a familiar soreness starting to well up in her eyes. Her mouth slightly ajar, she couldn't decide whether she wanted to run away or run towards them. The visual of grabbing that knight and biting into her warm, fresh meat had him nearly salivating- until a pang of pressure throughout both eyes caused him to keel over, collapsing to his knees. He closed his eyes and lifted his hand to his face, groaning as he braced himself for his terrible curse.
"M-merde..." he huffed. "N-not him... not now..."
But the wild waited for no one. Artful's eyes began to bulge, the poor magician crying out in pain as they shot open. Her vision was covered in black spots, and her eyes felt like they were going to burst. They pressed against their sockets, blocking her tears from flowing. She could hear footsteps and voices around her, but as dizziness took hold, she could only make out a few words;
"Are they turning blue?"
"Non, non, s'il te plaît, non!" Artful shrieked, knowing his body would not answer, but begging for anything but the truth.
This couldn't be happening.
He was dreaming, he had to be.
Yet, a horrific cracking sensation surging out from his eyesockets to his teeth reminded him of the grim reality of his situation. As the dam holding back his tears collapsed, Artful devolved into pure screaming. He thought he was used to this, but this felt like a thousand volts of death focused entirely into his skull. Her teeth, in particular, felt like they were being slowly pulled out all at once, and her eyesockets were being broken into wide shapes too huge for the rest of her head. Then the shock spread back into her brain, and she collapsed to the ground, head between her arms as she clawed at her scalp to make it stop. Each nail broke almost instantly against what felt like thick scales. There was just as much drool as tears pouring from her face, and the weak pangs of hunger in her stomach turned to a gaping ache. Was that drool, or was it vomit? It burned all the same.
Artful's ears felt like they were being crushed as a terrible ringing replaced all sound. It only worsened the horrific migraine tearing apart his brain. Then, as if it didn't hurt enough, a repetitive popping sensation began in his neck, and suddenly there was no room for it. It pushed his head further under his body, stretching and stretching like something was trying to rip his head off. She was so dizzy she felt like it was succeeding. Her heart, already pounding in her chest, began to beat faster and faster with no signs of stopping. Was it raining? Her chest felt tight, the rapid pumping of her heart shaking her bones, and she couldn't breathe. She gasped for air like a fish out of water and closed her eyes, life flashing before them.
Then she was back, worse than before. She was choking, and her whole back was swollen. Each of her ribs seemed to crack open as her suit tightened around her neck. Opening her eyes, she saw she had slumped onto her side, the blurry, shivering shape of Pursuer staring back at her. Unable to move her arms, she heaved in a deep breath and weakly croaked out,
"Help..."
Without hesitation, Pursuer ran away.
The commotion was gone now, leaving Artful all alone. A horrible pulsating feeling surged down both of his arms, worsening at the start of each fingernail, like his cuticles were being ripped out. An overwhelming churning and burning inside him made him want to vomit again, but as he opened his mouth to, the only thing that came out was a gross sound, like a mix of gurgling and bellowing. He had no tears left to cry anymore, and it seemed like that noise had rendered his throat too sore to speak. The sound of fabric tearing apart left him finally able to breathe again, but the worst had yet to come.
As all of this was still happening, that same pulsing sensation from before surged down her legs and spine, worse than ever before. At the same time, that popping she had felt in her neck began again, but instead of stretching upwards, her spine stretched down and out. It felt like it was being ripped out of her body. Meanwhile, her knees and ankles cracked into weird shapes, and just as her spine was being pulled out of her back, her heels and toes were being pushed away from her ankles. That agonizing pull on her fingernails now spread to her toenails, causing her to writhe uncontrollably in pain. Just as she thought she was going to go numb, one final encore of pulsating pain surged repeatedly from her head to her toes as the sound of fabric shredding stopped.
At first, he didn't realize it was over. He was still paralyzed, the memory of every bone in his body seemingly shattering to pieces never leaving. But as his vision began to clear and cold rain soothed his burning scales, he weakly stumbled to his feet. The memory of what his prey were had vanished. All he knew was that he needed to find them again, or he would die.
“Aaannnddd... There.. we… go!”
Louis tied off the waterlogged gauze in a little bow, occasionally pushing up his large nursing cap that had a habit of dipping below his eyes to get a better look at Dash, whose bandana struggled to whip around in the wind thanks to it being pinned by his head against a cart full of teapots, and maybe a little extra help from the rain. He felt a little fortunate to be the sole doctor on the team- call it selfish, but he just liked being important.
He tries to recall the last headcount with his group of travelers. Ever since the sudden influx of.. tragedies , he’d been traveling with a small group of civilians. It was mostly just him, Dash, Mary, and Louie, he liked to joke about there being another Louis of the group.
They’d met others along the way, but he doesn’t like to think about what happened to them. Sometimes he blames himself, but there’s really nothing he could have done when their side was blown halfway to hell by a killer robot. Nothing but put them out of their misery, the thought making a tiny tear slip out of his eyes. He blinked it away, hoping Dash didn’t catch on. Thankfully, Dash was too preoccupied with trying to breathe in the tight bandages. He eventually groaned and stood up, Louis guiding Dash to the aforementioned cart of teapots as extra support. The earth below was still very slick, and in any other case Louis wouldn’t have let the patient stand, but the monsters that gave him this work-in-progress scar story were still prowling.
Louis was shaken out of those worries when Dash let go and fully stood, a helping hand fixed on the cart in case he slipped.
“Thanks, doc. Remind me to save your tail when I’m dying again.” Dash gave a shaky chuckle that very clearly hid little to nothing of the pain on his face. The man’s eyes watered a little.
“Hopefully, you won’t have to do that,” Louis sighed.
Nightmare scenarios clawed up the doctor’s spine and nestled into his brain like little worms, but he flushed them as he stood. A cascade of trapped rainwater flowed from his hat all at once, completely drenching him again and taking his mind off of the terrors. Louis sputtered and wiped away the water as Dash erupted into a short-lived fit of laughter, then a yelp, then keeling over just slightly, the pain reminding him to be kind to his weakened body.
“Agh.. Y-You’re a hoot.” Dash angled his head up and grins after composing himself, a hand planted on his abdomen.
“Team morale is important, you know. I don’t know anyone funnier than me!” Louis beat on his chest, giving a false, egotistically prideful look similar to a posh, pampered prince in children’s cartoons.
“I dunno, Louie’s pretty funny.” Dash leaned onto the cart. “He might be the only one who can hold a candle to you.”
Louis jokingly rolled his eyes. “He’s only funny because he jumps five feet out of his skin every time he sees his shadow.”
A particular memory of wandering through what was apparently the backyard of someone’s grandma one of the dead party members knew, recalling the time when Dash saw a tree branch break off beside them. He leaped so high that he hit his head on another branch. It hurt for days on end according to him. Louis let his mind wander further back to older times, when there were more people who knew more stories, and more stories to tell to more people.
“I miss Bowie,” Dash blurted, “She was awesome ”
Louis hummed in agreement, mostly because a lump in his throat formed every time he thought of her. He remembered how… viscerally Mary cried as she held Bowie in her arms.
“I think her spirit’s still following us around, maybe giving Chuck an earful about gun safety and trigger discipline,” Dash joked. Despite the look on his face, his voice quivered a little. “Pfft, or when she managed to save your skin from bleeding to death.”
“Or that time when she and Mary were sleeping on top of each other, like otters.” Dash smiled a little. “You ever think they had something going on?” “Mary wears her purple shirt like a scarf. Take a wiiiiilllld guess.”
“Louis, you totally agree they would’ve been cute together.”
“Oh man,” Louis lit up, flinging more caught water out of his hat in a small spray. “Absolutely, you and I both remember all the times Mary went red next to-“
Louis was cut off by his doppler Louie charging past the two and crashing into the doctor, sending his cap flying and both of them to the ground. Louie scrambled to stand up, but the slick ground gave out from under him, and he crashed down on his back with a sharp gag. Louis slid over to the pale man and propped his head up. The impact didn’t leave him with a serious head injury, evident by the fact that the man was already trying to fight him off, wasting no time at pushing off the doctor and grabbing Dash by the arm, throwing it over his shoulder and immediately trying to get him to move it. Despite the shouts for the jumpy soul to cool it, it fell upon deaf ears, not until Dash wiggled free and held him at arms length.
“DAMMIT LOU, SPEAK TO US!” he shouted, the receiver flinching like a kicked puppy.
“I c- hant- I can’t I cann’tt we need to hie- Hide-! We neeD tO HIDE-!” Louie gripped Dash’s arm again, repeating the same hold, no protest came from Dash this time. Louis and Dash traded dreadful looks.
“Lou- Lou- Louie, boo, where’s Mary?” Dash tried to get Lou to stop on his own, eventually having to dig his heels into stray turf they crossed over for him to pause and think.
“I don’t- She was- She’s back there! I don’t know! I left when shit hit the fan! What did you want me to do?” He almost dropped Dash with how violent his gestures were. Louis wrestled Dash away and stood back, firing a scowl that sent a message, as Lou seemed to shrink in his gaze.
“Louie, boo, I’m sorry for yelling at you, but you NEED to tell us what’s going on,” Dash said, bringing his hand up to Lou’s cheek and guiding his gaze to look him in the eyes. “Even if it’s a little, tell us everything you know.”
Louie hesitated, swallowing down what looks like an ungodly weight in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but someone else interrupted by skidding through and splashing water up from a small puddle. Thankfully, she only wet existing turf and the teapot cart Dash was at prior, not that different from a car charging through a pool of water.
Mary whirled around, water flying off of her in a ring, and she brought up one arm. Louis traced where she was looking and screamed. Pursuer, as Bowie called it, was charging forward with an expression that was alien to see on the beast, at least from what Louis remembered. It shrieked and swung at nothing in the air. He tried in vain to put a name to whatever noises it was making.
Mary used her free hand to yank Louis behind her, leaving a large handprint on his forearm. He slipped on the ground and had to grab her shoulder to prevent himself from dipping forward. Only then could Louis see muscles in her back shift and tense, and jolted at the sight of her grotesque injuries. How she was standing, let alone letting him touch her, was alien to him. He was mildly grateful that the robloxian body forgets to die sometimes. When he finally snapped out of it, he fished around in his pockets for more potions, yet that served nothing, or maybe he was just too startled to focus yet. Blood spurted from one of the deep claw marks, hitting his white coat when she moved in a particular way. If Pursuer went at Mary, Louis’s dirty getup would make contact with her already grimy wound, potentially infecting it further than it one-hundred-percent already was. There wasn’t time to duck away, do something clever, or do that “super awesome trick” that Bowie taught Louis where he half-assed his way through it and somehow did it right. Mary is BIG, Mary would HURT, Mary would probably BE hurt if- if- THINK Louis, THINK.
To his surprise, Pursuer just kept charging in a straight line, throwing the both of them aside. Both fell to the ground, Mary's helmet clattering unceremoniously onto the brick as her face was exposed. The monster was gone as soon as it came, leaving the civilians in confusion. Never had it ever acted like this.
"What the..?" Dash murmured.
"I-it's... there's..." Louie stammered. "Mary also saw- I- I can't..."
Louis and Dash both turned to Mary, who was slowly and shakily rising to her feet. Louis rushed to help her, for now opting to just rinse her injuries down with a bit of ointment and hope for the best.
She coughed. "I... don't even know where to begin, I barely saw what was happening until it was too late, but, Artful-"
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
Everyone froze.
Huge, heavy footsteps unlike anything Louis had ever heard before slowly approached, the sound seemingly coming from nowhere and yet everywhere. Immediately, Louie scrambled away, his whimpers carrying real, primal fear. Dash was quick to follow as best he could, gasping out a strained "Oh hell no!" Mary was uncharacteristically wide-eyed and frozen. Louis looked around for the source of the sounds, before Mary yelped at being touched by something. It slowly lifted her, Louis falling back down in a panic as she cried out and whimpered. The only visible sign of what was holding her was a hat and mask with no visible wearer.
Then Mary's eyes were burst open, incisions matching huge teeth lining her forehead. Her screams were cut off by teal teeth appearing where the incisions were to rip her head clean off. A pale face behind the mask faded in, bright eyes blocked the disgusting visage of Mary's own, crushed ones, and the rest of the figure's appearance followed. It was huge, over 7 feet tall if Louis were to guess, and it looked like if Pursuer shattered its skull and cried black tears. Once Louis calmed down as much as he fathomably could, he noticed its eyes were bloodshot, intense white pupils drilling into Louis's soul whenever it wasn't focused on eating. Had another of Pursuer's kind come to join the hunt? What happened to Artful for it to be wearing his clothes? While Louie could make a big deal out of anything, it wasn't like Mary to panic about such a scenario.
Unless...
Artful's wand floated over the giant's shoulders. It dropped Mary's half-eaten corpse to the ground with a wet splat, took ahold of the wand, and gently tapped Louis, releasing a puff of mist. The same puff of mist that walls or music boxes vanished in when Artful repurposed them. The Government had warned the civilians that Pursuer was intelligent, but magic?
Magic was Artful's thing.
Immediately Louis scrambled to his feet and flew away, legs taking him faster than he'd ever ran before, but no matter how fast he went, the consistent drum of monstrous footsteps never got quieter. Tears flowed freely down his face, but he had no time to grieve. He slipped and stumbled, leaping to avoid falling over. Eventually, Dash and Louie came into view, and the ever imposing weight of the creature knocked Louis to the ground, but it darted right past him. Drool dripping from its mouth faster than the rain fell, it gripped Dash, who squirmed and kicked to get free. Louie tried to help, only for Dash to kick him away too.
"Boo, run..." he warned weakly, still struggling.
Tears formed in Louie's eyes, but he didn't have to be told twice. Dash managed to catch whatever Artful had become in the groin and tried to slip away, only for it to rip his bandages off with its claws, causing him to scream and double over. Without hesitation, it bit into his open wounds and ripped through them ravenously, Louis watching helplessly before stumbling to his feet upon seeing Pursuer duck into the spot Louie had gone. He took out his banana launcher, ready to stop the smaller predator from hurting his brother, only to see them embracing each other in terror. Glancing at Artful, who was still busy mauling Dash, Louis suspended his disbelief to take shelter next to them.
"I-I've never seen anything like this," Louis stammered, whole body weak and shivering. "I knew Artful did magic, but-"
Pursuer clawed at Louis's face and unceremoniously slapped a soggy talon over his mouth, shutting him up. Low whirring came from around the wall, but before anyone could look for the puppet, Artful's bloodied wand drifted into view. Louis froze, before slowly looking up. Hungry teal eyes stared back at him. Everyone was instantly on their feet, but before they could get far, Pursuer tripped Louie and scrambled away. Artful pounced, crushing his skull on impact and slurping up the contents like a disgusting soup.
"LOUIE!" Louis shrieked, turning around to see the gruesome sight before gasping. Light sobs escaped him as he kept running.
Everyone he cared about, gone in minutes. His best friend. The love of his brother's life. Finally, his brother.
how could he be so careless?
He knew this new monster was unstoppable, but he couldn't help but wonder if he could've saved them. Maybe if he had understood the approaching threat. If he had allowed himself room to anticipate a change like this. If he ran the other way like Bowie did months ago.
But no one anticipates when a man becomes a monster. That was the real horror.
In a last-ditch effort for their deaths to not be in vain, Louis swiveled around, aimed his banana cannon, and fired it at Artful. The once-magician leapt over it nonchalantly and pinned Louis down, mercilessly scarfing down his arm before moving on to his chest. Every bite ignited a flame of agony in Louis's body, making him loathe the fact that the Robloxian body forgets to die sometimes. Much like Pursuer, Artful didn't treat Louis as a living thing with feelings- he saw prey, a meal, fresh meat. In his final moments, Louis didn't see Artful. He didn't see any semblance of humanity- or of Pursuer's kind.
Not a single soul escaped that night. All met their gruesome ends by the hands of the loup-garou. He feasted greedily, wolfing down every last piece of the bodies before they grew rotten, and even a little after, defying his instincts. Blood and bone filled him, relieving all the pain just for a moment. However, the hunt wasn't over, for Artful's body still ached with hunger. He needed just a little more, one more bite, one more prey.
Artful immediately rushed to hound down the lesser monster, who had not stopped running for even a moment. Both slipped and skidded in the rain and blood but neither relented. Ignoring the stabbing feeling in her gut, Artful desperately charged on all fours. So high up, Pursuer had nowhere to run. He scurried down a plank near where the night had started, swiveled around, and swung his sword at Artful. It dashed her shoulder, leaving her reeling for only a brief moment before Pursuer leapt off the edge.
The last thing he felt before meeting the civilians' fate was Artful's hand around his neck.
When Artful came to, daylight shone on the teapot observatory. Soreness paralyzed her for several minutes, coupled with the urge to vomit and a horrible, rotten taste in her mouth. Frigid, soaking wet, and bare, she let her mind wander in her agony. Perhaps it was a good thing her memory was foggy. Usually, her mind did that to protect her from the worst of the worst. Though, once she finally moved from her collapsed position, it didn't take long to put together what a nightmare she had forgotten.
Immediately he retched and spat out the chunk of flesh resting between his teeth, bits of it getting stuck there. It wasn't human flesh- those obsidian scales could only belong to Pursuer. Letting out a few weak whimpers, Artful looked up to see more bits and pieces of Pursuer mere inches from him. He retched again, but nothing came out. Instead, Artful broke into a full sob, looking down at his own naked, bloodied and broken body. His belly was badly bruised, and a huge scab made it hard to move his shoulder. Subsumed by horror and loathing, he couldn't help but scream at nothing in particular.
Artful dreaded the day he'd wake up with blood on his hands. He promised himself, never again- but now he sat in a pool of viscera, flesh stuck between his teeth. His gaze drifted from what remained of Pursuer to the dismembered pieces of a clown doctor, banana launcher not far. Everything flooded back. Not last night, but many full moons ago. The warm flesh between his nails. The horrified faces of his fans. The screams. He could never forget the screams. Here, Artful remembered what a loup-garou was: A monster. It didn't matter what kind of animal they turned into, for they were animals regardless, and animals were unpredictable and violent. For a moment, Artful considered turning himself in, not just out of guilt, but out of fear that the only way to save him from this nightmare was to kill the monster.
But the loup-garou knew that death was never an option.
So she heaved her broken body to its feet, ignoring the agony. Hollow, she stumbled over unrecognizable pieces of flesh that, like her, were once human. Any semblance of shame or embarrassment about her nudity was the least of her concerns. She wandered aimlessly to the nearest stairwell home, to the wild, where animals like her belonged. The same wand that made him this way all those years ago trailed behind, as silent and empty as him. He could clean himself later; the only thing on his mind was fleeing the scene, much like the first time. The descent was as slow and agonizing as the metamorphosis itself. On multiple occasions, Artful almost fell, certainly only a stumble or two from death at any moment. Death was never an option. He pushed through the pain, righted himself whenever he tripped, and shambled in a zombie-like state to the bottom. There was nothing to accomplish from doing so except living another day, but he did it.
Limping back to his encampment, Artful mindlessly plunged into the nearest body of water, ignoring the freezing cold, before drying himself off and forcing himself into the closest garments he could see. He rooted through his first aid kit for an ointment that he slathered onto the incision in his shoulder, and choked down the last of the sedative painkillers that kept him going through the lunar cycles. Though foraged scraps awaited him, he felt too sick to eat. He buried himself in his makeshift hammock and started crying again, the only comfort he had left. If he was lucky, he'd cry himself to sleep as the sedatives kicked in. That mercy never came.
Nightfall approached. Artful numbly stared at the moon, letting the wild she hated so much whisper words of comfort to her. Though the sedatives hadn't lulled her to sleep, they at least eased the torture she was in. She needed to be rid of the Pursuer-thing in her. The wild offered to replace it with something tolerable. Something like a deer, or a bird, or a hare.
Those were better things for a loup-garou to be.