A week later, Henrik was practically living with Alan Deaton, a Druid, Emissary and Veterinarian.
Alan had given him a bedroom, new clothes and a job at his animal hospital, where Henrik got to help tend to the cats and bottle-feed newborn orphan kittens.
Another boy, Scott, worked with the dogs, given Henrik's new phobia of Canines. Scott worked different hours, so Henrik didn't really get to meet him.
When he wasn't at work, he was researching his family and reading through grimoires and bestiaries. Alan was curious about his magic, and even more curious about the Mikaelson family.
Then Henrik found out about Scott.
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Henrik stayed late at the clinic, sitting with his favourite kitten, Frey, a little white-gold cat who was smaller than his four brothers (Nico, Flynn, Eli and Cole) and two sisters (Ruby and Fallon), when Scott came in with a girl and a very injured big dog.
Henrik looked up, gently pulling the bottle away from Frey's mouth, the kitten mewling in protest. "Scott?" Henrik called.
Scott looked up in surprise, laying the dog on the table. "Hey Rik, can you help me? She's got a broken leg." Scott pleaded as the girl went to a back room to change out of her wet clothes.
Henrik hesitated but a whine from the dog made up his mind. "Splint?" He put Frey back with his siblings and joined Scott, keeping a bit of distance from the rather wolf-like animal.
"I think so." Scott nodded.
"Can you get me one of the plastic splints while I start up the x-ray machine?" Henrik requested, turning to press the buttons on the machine even as he spoke.
Scott nodded again and ducked into the equipment closet.
"Hey girl..." Henrik said nervously, choosing to reach a hand out to the dog. He tried to steady his hand to no avail, and the female bared her teeth with a low growl.
Henrik sucked in a breath between his teeth as Scott came back with the splint. "Woah, easy girl." He frowned at the dog, easily calming her down. "Henrik, are you okay?"
Henrik met Scott's eyes and somehow saw gold fading back to brown.
His whole body tensed up, and his magic burst from his fingers in a defensive repellent spell.
Scott crumpled to the ground with a cry, and the girl came running back in. "What's going on?" She cried, kneeling beside Scott.
Henrik tried to get air into his lungs, his chest heaving as he braced himself against the counter.
"He's having a panic attack." Scott gasped, shakily getting to his feet.
"What?" The girl glanced worriedly at Henrik, but he was holding his throat, tears stinging his eyes.
Henrik wasn't registering anything, memories assaulting him of golden eyes and sharp canines, the feel of teeth ripping into his flesh, killing him. "Úlfur." He choked out. "Varúlfur."
Then everything went black as he lost consciousness
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Notes:
Icelandic:
When Henrik is having a panic attack, he says Wolf, Werewolf.
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Sorry if the chapter seems short I'll try make it longer thanks for reading
