Wolf Got Your Tongue? (A Hemlock Grove fanfiction #JustWriteIt.)

Chapter 2

At first, there was pain. Like poppies blossoming in a field of spring snow, it was unavoidable and impossible to ignore- a rippling, tearing pain, so violent that it left Peter breathless and begging for death. But death never came. Only change.

As the moon bears with it the tide, so did it the Turning. Peter felt the wave of energy wash over him, bringing with it a moment of clarity- and for a second, he was aware of what was happening and not only its inevitability. This wasn't the end. This was only just the beginning.

As the hairs on the wolf's back bristled and bent to the will of the Turning, it let out a yip from its mouth. Pain clawed up Peter's throat like a trapped spider as the pressure began to build up behind his eyes, and then-

Darkness. Everything and everywhere was dark. The wolf felt animal panic course through its bones, along with pain- so much pain- as its sight began to come back. Only this time it was not his sight, it was human sight. A growl ripped its way free from his throat, and then he began to choke as his jaw suddenly caved in on itself. Peter moaned as he felt the wolf within him shudder with adrenaline and fear and he threw his paw into the ground, knowing that it would speed up the Turning. There was more than one crack as the bones in his clawed foot rearranged themselves into a hand shape, and the flesh was sloughed off his body.

His teeth plummeted onto the leaves beneath him, making a pattering noise like light fingertips on a keyboard, and he howled in pain. His face was almost fully human by now, but his lower half was mostly wolf. He reached down with his hand and battled with his skin like it was an item of clothing, attempting to pull it off of him.

Eventually, he was human- Peter- again. He could no longer feel the powerful waves of energy radiating from the moon, or smell the rabbit-scent he had picked up earlier. He lay naked in a pile of his own flesh- albeit his wolf skin- shivering from the pain and exertion. But this time, there was something wrong.

Peter could feel the liquid pooling in the bottom of his mouth- what was it? It had no taste. He swallowed some and immediately began to choke. But when he coughed it up onto the grey rock in front of him, he could see that it was blood. A shiver wriggled down his spine as he reached up with his hand, beginning to panic. He felt for his tongue. It was not there.

A gargled sound came from his mouth as he began to yell for his mother- for anyone.  Panic rose up in his throat as he choked, and he got to his feet. His mouth could make no human sounds, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually he gave up and howled out a single cry of pain and misery.