The night air was crisp and cool upon Jake’s face. Millions of tiny lights filled the sky like a field of fireflies. Like most nights, Jake sat on the old oak stump in the center of the silent woods. But tonight was special; he could feel it, the tension in the air, the stillness of the seemingly nonexistent wildlife. Something was to happen.
A warm breeze stirred the trees, their great green leaves shimmering in the moonlight. Jake looked up at the moon, he broke out in a grin and rose to his feet, the air before him shimmered like waves lapping at his bare feet. His ragged jeans hung loosely about his slender frame, his rough crop of midnight-black hair dancing in the breeze, his leather jacket dully reflecting the light from the iridescent moon. It was happening.
In the distance a lone wolf released its mournful cry, the forest around seemed to answer. All at once a great clamor arose as out of the trees broke hundreds of birds. Below them on the ground picturesque white-tail deer, along with bears and foxes, ran away from the clearing. As soon as it had begun, it ended, and everything was still once more. They knew it was to happen.
The aurora of shimmering air encircled Jake, glittering around him like morning dew in the new sun’s light. Jake stood stock still, the grin gone from his face to be replaced by a look of awe, nothing like this had happened before in his lifetime, he knew nothing about what was going on, except that it was part of him, and that it was meant to be.
A loud, earsplitting crack broke the silence of the night. Out of nowhere a bluegreen bolt of lightning flew towards the earth at an astounding speed. Jake’s body began to change, the smile had returned as he crouched on the ground. The bolt of lightning struck the ground not an inch before Jake’s face. Fiery multicolored sparks flew, striking Jake all over. It was happening.
The ragged jeans and leather jacket fell away, along with the other articles of clothing, no longer necessary on this body of dense black fur. Jake lifted his new ca- nine head and loosed such a howl that the very air seemed to vibrate with its melodious notes.
Jake turned, the shimmering air was gone, his time had come, as it now would for the rest of his life. He was a lycan, a demon, a werewolf.
Another call answered his, and he trotted off towards the reply. Above him the clouds parted, revealing a full blue moon. The Jake-wolf sat on his haunches, and howled once more at this sign of power. It had happened.