CHAPTER 105: WOLFING OUT

{Elira}

~**^**~

The open arena was bigger than I’d imagined.

Wide stretches of grass shimmered under the morning sun, broken only by the track’s winding path and the raised viewing stands ringing the space.

My roommates and I slipped through the gates together, and immediately we spotted clusters of students scattered across the field. Some were already stretching or bouncing on their heels; others stood in tight circles, laughing and trading confident smirks.

A few instructors lingered at the edges, speaking to each other in low voices, their eyes occasionally sweeping over the gathering crowd.

Their uniforms looked sharper under the bright light, the insignia at their shoulders catching glints of gold.

We joined the growing cluster of arrivals, the sound of chatter swelling with every new group that filtered in. Before long, the quiet open space had transformed into a restless sea of uniforms, the air buzzing with anticipation and nervous energy.

Then I saw Lennon.

He stood near the instructors, his posture straight, eyes sweeping the students like a hawk scanning the ground below.

I hadn’t expected him to be here, maybe because he didn’t mention it. And something about the sight of him in that role, all cool authority, made me straighten my back without even thinking about it.

"Line up!" a voice barked. The command cut through the noise like a whip, and the crowd shifted, bodies moving quickly into neat rows.

My roommates and I ended up near the middle-to-back section of the lineup.

The instructors moved down the rows, each carrying a tray filled with bands in different colours—red, blue, yellow, green, black and other colours. The colours looked vivid against the dull silver of the trays.

When the instructor reached our row, I glanced over the options before plucking a green one, the fabric smooth and cool between my fingers.

"Each colour marks your group," the instructor explained. "Your group will run together. The race will proceed row by row. When it’s your group’s turn, you will be called forward."

I felt my shoulders loosen slightly. We were in one of the last rows, which meant I’d have time to watch a few groups before it was my turn. Time to... prepare, in whatever way I could.

Another instructor’s voice rose above the murmur of the crowd. "Cheating will not be tolerated. The course is monitored in real time. Your times will be recorded and reviewed."

I followed the instructor’s gesture and spotted the massive monitor mounted on a tall frame at the far end of the arena. It flickered to life, showing a live aerial shot of the field.

High above, a drone hovered, its steady hum faint but constant, its shadow drifting lazily across the grass.

A wave of hushed relief rolled through the rows — I caught whispers from the students beside me.

"Good. No way anyone can cut the track this time."

"Finally, a fair race."

Their excitement was infectious. I could feel it, this low thrum in the air, the electric pull of competition.

Even as I stood there wondering whether I’d even make it past the starting line in wolf form, my heart sped up.

Part of me wanted to disappear into the grass... but another, quieter part was curious.

If my wolf came today... maybe I’d actually run.

---

A while later, the first group was called forward. Students with red bands broke away from the rows, jogging toward the wide starting line painted on the grass. Their movements were loose, confident — like they had been waiting all week for this.

"In position!" one of the instructors barked.

The reds spread out along the line, some already cracking their necks, others crouching slightly as if the shift were an instinct they could summon in a breath. I felt my stomach knot.

Then it happened.

In the space of heartbeats, bones cracked and reshaped, uniforms melting away in streaks of magic. Fur erupted in a dozen shades — silver, brown, sleek black, and even a striking snow-white that caught the sun.

The change wasn’t ugly, not like the horror stories whispered about painful first shifts. It was... seamless and graceful.

Gasps and low whistles rippled through the rows behind me. I couldn’t look away. These weren’t students anymore — they were wolves, each one radiating a kind of raw, magnetic energy that pulled at something deep in my chest.

The instructor raised a flag. "Three... two... one—"

The flag dropped.

The reds bolted, claws digging into the turf. The monitor lit up with their aerial view, the drone following as they tore across the field. T

he camera switched angles often — a wide overhead shot, then a close-up of a wolf leaping over a log, another skirting a sharp bend in the path. Their speed was unreal.

Cheers erupted from scattered pockets of the stands where a few upper years had gathered to watch.

Even in the rows, students were leaning forward, tracking the tiny moving blurs on the big screen as if it were the final match of some championship.

"They are so fast," Juniper murmured beside me.

I swallowed hard. My palms were damp. Watching them like this, I could almost forget that my turn was coming — almost.

But then my gaze fell on the row ahead of ours, the blue bands. They were shifting already, the air around them rippling faintly with power.

Time was moving too quickly.

My roommates chattered softly, commenting on certain wolves, guessing who would win each round.

I forced myself to join in with a nod here and there, though my eyes kept straying back to the track, to the screen, to the way each runner seemed utterly free in that form.

A part of me — the part I’d buried under fear and shame — whispered what it would feel like to run like that. To feel the wind tear past my fur, to leap without worrying about falling.

But another part, the louder part, reminded me that I’ve never shifted before, and might not today.

Still, I couldn’t help it. My heart was racing already, as if my body thought it might take off without my permission.

The moment our row was called, my stomach twisted into a tight, burning knot. The world felt sharper, louder — the shuffle of feet against dirt, the excited murmurs, the metallic clink of the drone adjusting above us.

Cambria gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, her eyes shining with encouragement. Nari mouthed something — you’ve got this — but my pulse was roaring too loud for me to hear.

I stepped forward with the others, the soft crunch of gravel under my shoes sounding far too loud in my ears.

Every instructor was watching. The crowd was watching. Somewhere in the sea of faces, Lennon’s unreadable gaze cut like a blade.

We lined up at the starting mark, the band I’d picked earlier biting gently into my wrist. The instructions replayed in my head — no cheating, run until the end, row by row.

Those were simple words, but they felt like an execution order to me.

I flexed my fingers, tried to breathe in slow, steady pulls, but my lungs kept taking in air like I was drowning. My knees felt weak. I’d never shifted in my life before, wort more, under this much pressure.

The instructor at the front raised his arm. A hush fell over our row.

"On my mark."

My heart slammed hard enough to make my ribs ache.

"Three..."

My hands trembled. My wolf was silent. My mind screamed, ’Please, please.’

"Two..."

The memory of the Power Channelling class flashed before me — the laughter, the sneers, the feeling of wanting to vanish.

"One!"

I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, reaching for her, just like the way I had been trying for days now. "My wolf, if you can hear me... please, run with me."

The signal rang out.

And then—

It was like the world tilted. My skin prickled. Heat shot through my limbs, bright and blinding. My bones shuddered, not in pain, but with a strange release, as if something long-caged had finally been set free.

I gasped as my senses exploded—scents, colors, the quickening of heartbeats around me. The ground felt different beneath my paws.

Paws?

I didn’t stop to think. I just ran.

The wind tore past me, tasting of grass and dust and distant cheers. My stride was clumsy at first, but the rhythm came, slow and steady.

The others surged ahead, powerful and graceful, and I let them go. This wasn’t about winning anymore.

It was about being here.

It was about finally running.

By the time I crossed the finish line, the others were already waiting. My sides heaved, my tongue lolled, but joy — pure, wild joy — pulsed through me.

I shifted back into my human form, my sports uniform settling around me in soft folds, my skin tingling from the change.

And then my roommates were there — Cambria, Nari, Tamryn, Juniper — arms thrown around me without hesitation. They didn’t care that people were staring.

"She did it!" Cambria’s voice was bright with pride.

"Yes, she actually did it!" Juniper and Nari chorused.