Three days had passed. The slow and agonizing task took his body three complete days to fully recover. With aching muscles and a gnawing hunger deep in his belly, Rafe leaned forward on the branch that he straddled. Every joint and bone cracked. The tension in his body relieved some, but the hunger was still there. It was calling, beckoning him to move forward. He needed to hunt.
Three days in hiding within the branches of an enormous tree had given Rafe the time to dwell on his new found hate for man. While they had always been an easy target for his kind to hunt and destroy, this particular team had other motives on their mind. These "demon-hunting" men had intended on wiping out his entire clan. Although some of the clan had escaped into the woods of Fellock, most had been gutted, dismembered, and burned. They had come with unusual weapons and actual strategies.
Perhaps they weren't as stupid as Rafe had been lead to believe.
Rafe wrapped his large hands around an uplifted knot in the tree branch. Pulling his torso forward, he arched his back. The bones shifted and the noises of them shifting into place were almost sickening. The darkness concealed his figure as he leapt down from the tree branch and onto the ground. Rafe's green eyes surveyed the land before him. It was early morning and even the night creatures were still out. The rustling of leaves and the patter of light footsteps brought the forest alive even more.
Standing near the tree, Rafe could see the black blood that had smeared against the trunk. Shifters bled black. It was one of the "old ways" to tell them from a mortal human or beast. In a few days, the blood would be gone. His assailants were not tracking him. Rafe would have made for an easy target had they decided to do so. It would prove to be a deadly mistake.
There was a well-traveled road a little over a mile from where Rafe had been recovering. It led into the small town of Crees. The scent of the people making their ways to and from had driven him mad in his ailed state. The thought of sinking his teeth into the manflesh had been teasing him. His hunger was growing stronger each moment he delayed. Knowing that his two-legged state was useless for quick travel (especially nude) Rafe decided it would be best to change.
Rafe's body began to wretch almost as if he were about to vomit. His body had become so weak healing itself, even transforming was taking a toll. It was a task that normally went smoothly with little hesitation. Rafe wretched, gagging up some sort of fluid as he fell to the ground. His hands braced his fall and his fists clenched the earth as he continued to heave. Rafe growled, cursing in an unknown language in fury, desperately trying to get his body to change its form. Eyes wild, he spat and lunged forward. The first bone clicked. And then the second.
His muscles shifted and stretched while pulling together to form a completely new image. The sound of snapping bones filled the area. There was a hellish smile pulled across his lips as Rafe went down, only to emerge as his other form. He had succeeded. He had pushed his body to its limits and surpassed those. He was an Alpha and was born into his blood. Breaking out of his boundaries made him stronger, and even deadlier.
Where once stood a man now stood a formidable beast. The creature was shock black and resembled an exaggerated wolf. It had large, five-toed claws and a wide chest. While the creature stood on four legs, a two legged stance was not impossible and even more deadly in battle. The jaws of the creature were lined with large fangs made for peeling flesh from bones. His hip was narrower than that of a normal wolf and the size was practically doubled. The weapons of a preadator and the intelligence of a sentient being made for an extremely efficient, and deadly, killer.
The only remnants from his "two-legged" form, as Rafe would call it, were his green eyes and black hair. His nose lifted into the air and let out a long warning call. The predator would not be killed by his prey.