Maybe fifteen minutes into their trek, with the river still in sight behind them, Tove pulled her clothes off and shifted. Chloe pretended not to notice, collected up the discarded items, and continued to limp along, narrowly avoiding stinging nettles and thorns.

Fur disappeared and reappeared between the trees as the wolf took a few warm-up laps and Chloe continued to hobble forward, secure in the knowledge that Tove would intervene if she was bumbling off-track. They were deep into the forest now, into 'wolf territory' as Tove had called it, and Chloe realised she could now tell the difference by the plants. Things grew wilder here, overlapping and intertwining with each other. No outside manipulation, letting the forest grow and develop according to its own design. Without disturbance, left always as it was found by visitors. It would drive magic folk mad to exist amongst this level of leafy chaos. It was exhilarating to Chloe, the kind of environment her inner nature witch called for. To be a magical force that tip-toes through the undergrowth and only betters it; one with the wild.

A snout bumped her butt.

Chloe stumbled but managed to stay on both feet; she gave Tove an accusatory look over her shoulder and pushed on, slowing even further when thick tree roots came across her path. Every step made her ankle more tender.

The wolf brushed her again, this time against her hip, and her weak leg buckled. Chloe snatched at the fur at her side, grappling for support as she fell and cursing under her breath. Tove lowered with her until they were both on the ground. Chloe gave her a baffled look, and Tove jerked her head, beckoning her to her other side.

"You want me to walk on your left side?"

The wolf shook its head.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Chloe pulled herself up, leaning heavily on Tove for support. Tove stayed on the ground, her shoulders almost reaching Chloe's hip. "I doubt you're trying to tell me you want to rest." Chloe waited for another hint, but Tove watched her with bright eyes and zero indicators of what she wanted. "And if you needed the bathroom, I like to hope you would take yourself somewhere private." Chloe laughed to herself and stepped away.

Something tugged at her. She peered down, and mouthful of her skirt was being held by the wolf. When she didn't put the hints together quickly enough, Tove tugged her backwards until she fell against her furry side.

"You want me to lean on you?" She was clutching her arms over Tove's back, fingers splayed in her fur.

Her skirt was released and Tove stood suddenly. Chloe squealed in fear as her feet lifted off the ground.

"Tove!" she gasped, scrabbling to pull herself up and over instead of dangling helplessly by handfuls of hair. "Okay, I get it. You want to carry me because I'm going too slow. Just- hold still, please!"

The wolf stilled, and Chloe wriggled herself onto her her belly, pressed against Tove's spine. The back of her was so... wide. Chloe's arms and legs were splayed as far as they could stretch, squeezing down on the warm body under her for steadying. She peered over Tove's shoulder at the ground that seemed unnaturally far away. It was a look that brought instant regret. She hurried to bury her face into the nape of Tove's neck.

"O-okay... I think... I'm ready."

The wolf straightened its legs, lifting them both even higher. This time, Chloe was wise enough not to look down. 

The trees passed them much faster the moment Tove took off. Chloe kept her face down, cheek-to-fur, and watched the trunks rush away while Tove’s muscles bunched and released under her in a steady tempo. It was almost enough to send her back to sleep… almost, if the fear of sliding off wasn’t ever present in the back of her mind. Would Tove even notice the missing weight?

There was a secondary reason for her racing heart, though. She was riding a wolf. A werewolf. She may just be the only witch alive to have done so. It wasn't impossible that she was the first ever. If only she had the courage to sit up and feel the wind on her face, to take in the magnificence of Tove’s power as it pulsed under her. It must be strange to have one form that is so powerful… but then, Tove’s ‘human’ side wasn’t so weak either…

At Tove's four-legged pace, they cleared miles and miles of forest land by lunchtime, but they had nothing left in the pack to eat, and they must have been close because she didn't stop. Chloe's tummy rumbled against Tove's back, quiet gurgles and indignant squeezes of her insides.

The speed dropped a little, with nothing visible to Chloe to offer a reason why. For a while she hoped lunch was back on the schedule. Weedy, winding walkways had been worn away between brambles and dry leaf stacks, they followed them and came to more of the same. Then their pace dropped more, with no halt, and Tove was taking the trail unusually carefully, squeezing through tree trunks that seemed unnecessary and sniffing before she stepped sometimes. Chloe could only assume that meant they were within wolf-smelling distance. She braced herself for the appearance of a guard or curious local, sniffing out the stranger in their midst.

None revealed themselves, although they could easily be spying through the undergrowth. Chloe shivered against Tove’s back and the wolf made a curious whining noise back.

“It feels different here,” Chloe whispered in explanation.

Tove huffed in a way that resembled a laugh. It quickly made sense, she knew what was about to come into view around the next bend.

Roughly hewn stone walls surged up to the sky, unnervingly vast in that until they were spitting distance away, there had been no hint of them through the greenery. Chloe reared back with her mouth open, fear of falling forgotten in the face of the daunting enclosure. With one hand filled with the fur at Tove’s nape, Chloe used the other to wipe at her glasses with her skirt, while keeping them balanced on the end of her nose, so as not to miss a moment of the view.

Ruins, silent but for the bustle of leaves in the light wind, and yet, surely oozing history and culture and definitely not that of magic folk or humans. The shallow engravings that ringed the walls from top to bottom indicated they weren’t constructed by werewolves either. They meant nothing to Chloe one way or another, she had no experience in translation or ancient texts, but the feat of carving into such monstrously high walls would be much easier with wings… Unless Tove was the runt of her litter. Another nervous tremble overtook her and she dropped forward again, pressing her cheek into long, thick fur.

The walls grew taller still when Tove sank to the ground, hinting that the free ride was over. That there was now potential to be spotted. Chloe swung off with zero elegance but a lot of underwear exposure. In her defence, she wasn’t one of the little witches that did horseback riding on Saturdays. And once she realised that was quite a good skill to have, she wasn’t so little anymore.

The ground met her boots firm and dry and her ankle ached for a few moments at being expected to bear her weight again. Tove took a slow trot forwards and Chloe clung to her as she hobbled along at her side.

A thunderous shake of the ground gave only a moment’s warning of the enormous wolf that bounded past, slowing only to give Tove a curious look before continuing its patrol of the wall. Maybe Tove wasn’t a runt, but she certainly wasn’t as tall or wide as the beast that had flown past on a blur of paws, claws and rust-red fur. Dread settled in Chloe’s stomach, despite there being nothing she could do to deter their arrival. They were already here. And the wolves would all shortly know.

They followed the same route as the patrolling wolf, only closer to the cool stone. In the shadow of the massive wall, Chloe’s skin was no longer being beaten down on by the high summer sun. It was a mild relief she hadn’t realised she’d needed till then. She limped with one hand against the stone, and one on Tove’s back, until something drew Tove’s snout to the ground. Markings swirled the outer ring of a metal disk set into the dirt and partly obscured by the wall. When Tove pressed the right spot, it tilted open on an invisible hinge.

A deep and dark tunnel was revealed.

Chloe looked up from the hole to give Tove a wide-eyed look. “I really hope you’re not telling me what I think you are.”

Tove shifted, her fur shrinking back and her limbs and torso shortening, it was a sickening sight that Chloe hadn't indulged in before, always looking away politely to avoid catching an eyeful more than she bargained for.

As soon as pointed canines had retracted, Tove asked, “What’re you scared of?” Part teasing, part tender.

“Um, that?” Chloe pointed into the darkness. The never-ending, terrifying darkness.

“It’s short, I promise, just an entrance into the top-ground areas. The real den tunnels don’t have entrances out here.” Tove grinned wonkily. “If you’re really scared, I’ll let you hold my tail while we climb through.”

Chloe flushed. “Are they as dark and scary as this? The den tunnels?”

“There’s light further in,” Tove soothed. “Torches and old magic in veins in the walls once you get deep enough.”

“Old magic?” Chloe breathed.

Tove hummed and rocked on her heels. “Maybe ‘magic’ isn’t the right word for it…”

Snatching at Tove’s elbow, Chloe drew herself up a little. “I want to see!” she pleaded, before remembering Tove was once again naked, and retracting her hands. Tove laughed quietly.

“Good, we need to get moving, it’s not safe for the pack to be hovering here.”

“Of course,” Chloe murmured. What was the point of a secret entrance if you loitered around it all day?

“Follow me. It’s easier for me to climb through as a wolf, but I’ll go slow for the lady’s comfort.” She winked and shifted, leaving Chloe’s face warm without the sun.

There was enough room for Chloe to keep her backpack on, but the ground and ceiling were rough and jagged and she understood why Tove would want to scrunch herself small and utilise her hardened wolf feet to traverse the short journey. Short in distance, that was, long in the awkward, painful shuffling that was required to move through the darkness. First, a test tap of the heel of her palm, seeking flat spots to put her weight on, then shifting forward and trying to place her knees in the same places her palms had just been. Rinse and repeat in minute movements forwards. At least she could be grateful that her ankle wasn’t taking any weight, her knees and wrists were doing all the support work. Occasionally, she would stretch a hand out, stroking through the tufty hair at the end of Tove’s tail to reassure herself she was still there.

Eventually, palms and knees burning, stomach gurgling, and hairline damp with sweat from both exertion and nerves, the light appeared at the end of the tunnel, partially blocked by long fur that filtered it from blinding Chloe’s shocked pupils.

They had arrived, on hands and knees, at the wolf pack’s inner sanctum.