If I had to call it anything, I think I would call it an act of love. 

​

We met online, on a forum where people like him could anonymously chat with people like me. His profile was marked only by his icon of a white rabbit, mine by a picture of a snarling dog. In our private chat room, he questioned me for hours on end. How did I contract lycanthropy? What does it feel like to transform? Do I think of myself as an animal? 

​

He pursued me constantly, hiding behind the safety of his screen, unembarrassed by the nature of his inquiries. The questions were careful, clinical even; but, with every word he typed out, I could taste the frantic thrum of his heartbeat. He was hungry to know everything he could about my condition, and I was happy to oblige. When you spend so much time holding something terrible in, the pressure causes you to boil over, dying to release it to anyone who will witness you without recoiling. The delicate nature of our arrangement frightened me. I had been ghosted on the forums before—hours of inquiry turned to radio silence, the other person apparently satisfied with what they’d learned. Without thinking of the danger, I asked him if he wanted to meet in person instead.

​

He replied immediately: “Only if you let me watch you change.” 

​

~~~

 

We agreed not to use our real names. He was Rabbit. I was Dog.

​

My home, in the woods, had all of the supplies I needed, so we arranged to meet there. Before he even came in, I could hear his uneven breathing through the door. I could smell the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He arrived shortly before sundown, dressed as if he had come straight from his office, in pressed trousers and a white button-down, his suit jacket most likely shoved into the back seat of his car. I had given him directions to my cabin, which required him to hike part way here, making sure there was no easy means of escape for him if he decided to cause trouble. His sweaty hair stuck out at odd angles, as if he had raked his hands through it before coming in. He made an effort to appear put-together, but only just so. I saw his grip tighten around a bag he had on his shoulder. The possibility of him coming armed did not bother me. 

​

Stepping in, his eyes clawed over the walls, scanning for exits, weapons maybe. I suppressed a smile. Non-lycanthropes on the forums often liked to pretend they had all the control. I’d rather seem pathetic than dangerous. Still, despite myself, I liked knowing Rabbit was scared, letting the mask of his detached persona slip—if only for a moment.

​

I was in the middle of eating, clearing out my fridge. Maybe I should have been embarrassed by that display, but it was what he had come to see. 

​

“Sorry,” I said, seeing his wide-eyed expression at the carnage, “The transformation requires a lot of energy. Makes me absolutely ravenous.” 

​

“Does it happen on its own?” Rabbit suddenly asked, “Or do you have control over it?”

I shrugged between bites. 

​

“It depends,” I said. “When the full moon light touches me, it happens on its own. But it can also be triggered by an increase in heart rate. Some lycanthropes say that it might trigger our fight response, and the wolf just takes over in order to protect itself.”

​

He smiled, as if realizing something. “Does that mean you can’t—”

​

“Yeah, I would say that renders all interactions, outside of other lycanthropes, as strictly celibate. Sorry if that disappoints you.” 

​

“Not at all,” he laughed, though I could see red creeping up the back of his neck. “Not at all.” 

 

~~~

​

I took him down into the den, where I had the chains set up. 

 

When I had first started showing signs of my condition, I had trouble controlling myself. I let the wolf run loose, leaving carnage behind in its wake. I’d wake up alone and naked, covered in blood and dried viscera, unaware of what I’d done, afraid. Only flashes of memory remained, warped, like they belonged to someone else. It was a relief to find only the carcasses of deer and small rodents. 

 

I killed a man, once. 

 

I found the body—a hunter by the looks of his clothes, although no matter how long I searched, I could find no weapon. There wasn’t enough left of him to turn. The gore clung to his camouflage overalls, torn where I had ripped into his belly, nearly slicing his torso in two. One of his legs hung limp in the branch of a nearby tree. His wide eyes stared into me. I buried him in the warm earth there, and no one has been able to find him since.  

 

That was the first time this disease really made me feel like a monster. 

 

I wanted to convince myself that I killed the hunter because I was frightened somehow,  that the wolf marked him as a danger to its life. Still, it seemed wrong that I should have been the only one to come out of the encounter unscathed. 

 

After the hunter, I couldn’t stand pretending like I was just like everyone else. I decided that, from then on, I would have all of my necessities delivered. I already worked from home, online freelance jobs here and there, so there was not too much left to expose me to the outside world. 

 

I had nightmares where the hunter cried out for mercy. His screams tore me to ribbons inside. I struggled to find a way to protect him, but my body revolted against me each time. The dreams all ended the same way, with my teeth choking down into his throat.

​

On the forums, I’d talked to other anonymous lycanthropes like me. They reassured me that they all had similar experiences, that we weren’t the monsters we believed we were. They taught me to separate the human self from the wolf—the disease. 

 

They doled out advice too. What grade of chains to buy, how to install bolts into walls. I became the benefactor of years of guilty consciences. None of us knew what we really were—animals, humans, or something entirely different. We only seemed to agree that there was only so much that we could do to mitigate the damage.

 

“The wolf does what it wants,” one said. “No stopping it when it's in the driver’s seat.”

 

Eventually, I was tired of talking to people who pitied me as much as they did themselves. I found Rabbit on the side of the forum where normal people lurked. It was a place where strangers could open up past wounds as far as they would go, not caring about any discomfort or pain. It’s what they counted on. They would ask about my kill count. My scarring. Did my family know? Do I trust myself in normal society? If they saw me in real life, would they be able to tell what I was? 

 

Rabbit was different. His curiosity was limited to the physical complications of the disease. Have there been noticeable changes in my human form since I contracted it? Is the transformation painful? Do I sustain injury? Sometimes, even I didn’t know the answer.

To satisfy him, I checked my eyes for discoloration. I tested my pain threshold, biting into the palm of my hand as hard as I could stand. I never was able to draw blood—the wolf must have had its own ways to keep me from damaging its body.

 

Rabbit never asked me if I’d ever killed anyone, although I would have told him if he did. Something told me that it wouldn’t have frightened him away. 

​

~~~

​

Rabbit whistled as he surveyed the den. I didn’t keep much in there; a few blankets so I wouldn’t have to crash on the hard ground. I would have smuggled in a mattress, but I was afraid it would end up in shreds by morning, if I did. There was one small window near the ceiling, where the moonlight was able to filter in.

​

“Stay on the staircase the whole time,” I said, removing my clothes. “It’s the only place I can’t reach once I’m chained up.” 

 

I hissed against the cold. There are some sensations you just can’t get used to. 

 

He looked so small, as I left him there to lock myself into the chains. My stomach lurched, seeing him so pitiful.  He asked, “Are you… Yourself when it happens?” 

​

So close to the onset of transformation, my senses began to sharpen. The booming sound of his pulse, the dry swallowing sounds in his throat—they seemed to reverberate through my body, worming their way into my skull. 

 

Through the disorientation, I answered, “Who knows? Maybe I am.” 

 

I looked towards the window as the light of the pale, full moon hit my skin.

 

“I just don’t really know what I’m doing.” 

​

~~~

​

When I woke up, Rabbit was gone. I tugged at my chains to test for looseness. There was no blood, either—not even the smell of it. Hunger gnawed at my stomach.

 

Back in the kitchen, I found a note next to a bottle of wine. 

 

“Sorry I stepped out,” it said. “Let’s do this again sometime. -Rabbit.”

 

I drank the whole bottle alone, in heavy gulps. 

​

~~~

​

I couldn’t stop thinking about him, what I let him see. In our chat room, I told him that he could come by for the next full moon, too, if he wanted.

 

He agreed. 

 

Online, his questions became less and less frequent, and I panicked, thinking he was growing less interested in me. The only thing to soothe my fears was his continued affirmation that I would see him during the next full moon, that he wouldn’t miss it for anything. 

 

I stalked aimlessly through my house, quiet aside from my own padding footfalls. I had no photos on the walls, no posters or paintings. I had everything I needed, and no more. Rabbit had been my only visitor since I got the place; a parting gift from my late brother’s family, his old hunting cabin. It seemed different since Rabbit came in, unfamiliar. I wondered if I could still call it mine. 

​

The next time Rabbit came over, he was less skittish. We ate easily together, although I finished much more of my plate than he did. He had a starved look to him, yet every bite he took was controlled, as if there was no real hunger behind it. He fiddled with a golden band on his left hand, a wedding ring. He must have forgotten to slip it off his finger this time, accidentally revealing something to me about who he was outside of our arrangement. Or, this was another calculated move. 

​

He shrugged his bag back onto his shoulder, as we descended deeper into the den. I chained myself up while he watched, amused. 

​

“Is that uncomfortable for you?” he asked. 

​

“It’s okay. I like knowing that I’m in here, rather than out there.”

​

“Why don’t you want to be out there? If I had the power that you did, I would run wild. You have no one to answer to, no one to please, nothing that needs to be kept in order. Why deny that?” He sat down on the stairs and leaned his face against the palm of his hand, the perfect inquisitive picture. “Did you know, all night, there wasn’t a single moment when you weren’t trying to tear those chains off the wall? It was fascinating to watch, I’ll give you that.” 

​

I huffed, “You just don’t get the power of that appetite. Instinct takes over, until there’s nothing you won’t do to satisfy it. Why do you think I make you stay on the stairs?”

​

It had taken me a long time to stop hating the lycanthrope who turned me. I had to remind myself what the other lycanthropes on the forums said; that the wolf will make you do anything it wants if you can’t control it. 

​

I remember running as quickly as I could, adrenaline working overtime in my already weakened limbs. I felt the horror of his claws raking across my back. Cold air invaded my lungs. I crashed to the dirt. Iron and loam filled my nostrils. My face tasted like salt. Unclean—I felt unclean, more than anything. His teeth clamped down on the back of my neck. Whatever happened next, I had no recollection of. I just know that when I woke up, he was gone, and my life was over. It must have taken everything for the lycanthrope to stop the wolf already in action. I had to honor that restraint with my own. 

​

Rabbit leaned back, suppressing a smile. “I see. Sorry, I never meant to pry.”

​

I couldn’t force myself to speak. Briefly, I saw him as he was—a stranger in my home, with a life I would never gain insight into. I didn’t even know his name. He didn’t need mine—I already gave him everything else he had asked for. I was glad that, at least this time, I was the one with claws.

​

I looked up at the window, away from him.“The moon is going to come out soon.” 

​

~~~

 

He was gone again in the morning. 

​

The faint, sour scent of cold blood clung to the air. I was still hungry, but the feeling lacked its usually painful edge.

​

Rabbit left another short note:

“I see what you mean about that appetite. Something to be in awe of.”

​

I tracked the scent of blood to the trash can in my kitchen. Inside were numerous empty packages of meat, still dripping. I imagined Rabbit throwing raw steaks to the wolf, empty-eyed and voracious. I touched my stomach, recoiling against my own satisfaction.

​

~~~

 

Rabbit left me waiting. I stalked through the back catalog of our chat sessions, searching for any clue, any discrepancy in his tone to suggest he was growing bored of me. My eyes glazed as they raked through the flat lines, shocked at their banality, their lack of feeling. What made him interested in me to begin with?

​

I picked up one of the still simmering pieces of chicken from the stove, not even feeling its burn on my fingertips as I ripped out a bite. The texture felt odd in my mouth. The piece of meat in my hand glowered back at me, pink and raw in the center. I swallowed.

​

The moon could not wait for him. I ate in silence, preparing for another night of cold metal, another morning of sore muscles. 

​

As I dropped my skillet into the sink, I heard his knock at the door—low and thudding, as if he were using his feet. Rabbit smiled as he walked inside, soft carrying cases slung over both of his shoulders. 

​

“I come bearing gifts.”

​

I bent down to look inside, although I could already hear the tiny, rapid heartbeats coming from within. He brought a pair of rabbits, large and white, with round red eyes. He arranged the cases down on the couch. I didn’t like how comfortable he was becoming in my home, how naturally he moved through it. 

​

I didn’t find the joke as funny as he did. 

​

“You don’t think this is the slightest bit cruel?” I asked, frowning at the twitch of their little pink noses. 

​

“What’s cruel is that you lock your wolf up without giving it a proper meal. Don’t all animals prefer live prey?” He kicked lightly at my ankle. “Come on, I want to see you.”

​

I choked back the protest forming in the back of my throat. I meant that it was cruel to the rabbits. He lifted the bags back into his arms, and I followed him down into the den, jaw tight.

 

I woke up alone, picking fur out of my teeth. 

​

In his note, Rabbit told me not to eat before he arrived next time, and promised to bring me something more. “I need the wolf to be ravenous again.”

​

~~~

 

I obeyed his command. I paced through my home, my stomach howling ineffectually against me. 

​

When I killed the hunter in the woods, I swore to myself to never forget the cost of my condition. To reward the wolf now felt wrong, but when I met Rabbit something in my better instincts mutated.

​

When Rabbit stood at my door, he was empty handed. My stomach turned as he smiled at me. “Sorry, I forgot all about it. I can always grab you something from your fridge after the change. You have meat in there, right?”

​

“Yes, that’s fine,” I said, waving him off, light headed. His gaze had a trapping effect on me. No matter what I did in his presence, I had the feeling that I did everything he wanted me to.  

​

I needed to get down there and chain myself up already. I stumbled down the stairs into the den, scrambling towards the chains. I stripped off my clothes and braced against the cold. Rabbit entered the stairwell, shutting the door behind him. He was empty-handed, again. 

​

“What are you doing up there?” I asked. I glazed up at the window—not much time. The salt of his sweat burned my nose. 

​

“Nothing. I wanted to see how the wolf reacted when it was truly hungry. On the first night I saw you, I was afraid that you would tear the bolts off the walls and rip right through me. I’ve never wanted anything as much as you wanted to be free.” Rabbit smiled down at me, and I felt fury bubble up inside of me.

 

“Maybe,” I spat, “that would be for the best.”

​

“Maybe,” Rabbit agreed. “If I came down now, do you think you could stop yourself? Are you strong enough to do that?” 

​

“Are you crazy?” 

​

He descended the stairs, stepping down into the range of my chains. I pulled against them, grabbing for the key I kept tied to my ankle, then froze. There wouldn’t be enough time—if I unchained myself now I would only tear right through him and the door keeping me down there. I backed away, weakly casting glances at the window—not long now. The thrash of his pulse deafened me. I thought of the rabbits he brought me before, how they tried to run away. Deep in the recesses of my mind, I heard them scream. 

​

“I am not the wolf. What it wants and what I want are separate.” I had to convince myself, too. The memory of chains cutting into my flesh bubbled to the surface of my mind, the fear and frenzy of the wolf maddening me. A rogue hunger clawed within me. Rabbit took me into his arms.

​

He carded through my hair with his fingers and told me his name.

​

“Stop it, I don’t want to know,” I groaned, “Please, leave.”

​

“I want the wolf to know it, at least. Whatever it decides. That, at least, will be out of my hands.”

​

I felt a shift inside me. Something had finally broken. 

​

“I can see the moon now,” he sighed, “Time to come on out.”

​

Heat built up in my center, then bloomed outwards. I screamed as my bones elongated and fused into new positions. I grabbed onto Rabbit to steady myself, my long fingers spouting hair and claws. He gasped as their sharp points dug into the flesh of his shoulders. The scent of his blood sharpened my senses into a fatal clarity. My jaw shattered and reformed, my teeth clattering to the floor in bloody pearls as their canine replacements pushed through my stretched out gums. Rabbit kept touching me, kept running his hands through my fur as the transformation wracked through my body. I hated him. I pulled him closer, growling as I buried my face in the crook of his neck. 

​

As it was nearly complete, he squeezed his arms around my body, teeth tightened against his words as the heat from my skin scalded his trembling hands. 

​

“Not so bad, now is it?”

​

I sank my teeth into him and tore. 

​

I wrenched his arm free from its socket. Blood gushed out in hot spurts. I lapped at the wound greedily, but it wasn’t enough to satiate the wolf’s all encompassing hunger. 

​

My hunger.

​

Rabbit looked like he was on the verge of fainting, barely holding onto consciousness as I slashed open his stomach and dug into his entrails. The small part of my brain that was still revolting against my body died when I leaned in. 

​

I ate until I was satisfied. What sweetness. 

​

~~~

 

In the morning I collected what parts of Rabbit were left. I found his head rolled into the corner of the room, disfigured almost beyond recognition. Even the leftover bones were picked clean and broken open, so I could get at the marrow. I pulled his wedding ring from the gore, the metal so cold against the skin of my hand, as I slipped it on.

​

I packed the remains as neatly as I could into a small bag, and set out into the morning. The wind felt like icy fingers combing through my hair. I reached the spot in the woods I had been avoiding for a long time—the spot where I had buried the hunter in shame. I broke through the frozen ground, relishing the effort it took to unearth what had been so easy to hide. The hunter’s body no longer frightened me. I only hoped that, if he could, he would forgive me, as he might have asked any other animal he killed to forgive him. At least, now, he had someone to keep him company.

​

I removed the chains from my basement. 

​

I couldn’t force myself to feel sorry for what I had done. Rabbit came to my house in search of a wolf. He found one. That next full moon, I felt the night air on the wolf’s face for the first time in years. I howled, without fearing that someone would hear me. I hunted alone, intoxicated by the power of my body in the moonlight. 

​

I still think of Rabbit often—his careful words, his sad eyes, and the cling of his blood in my teeth. I remember and I salivate.