About an hour of aimless wandering and emotional spiraling later, Guy- no, Fenrir had started to get a grip.
'Not Guy anymore…', he thought to himself, grimacing. He still felt like himself yet, his hair was scruffier, his body smaller, leaner and he had fucking furry ears.
He got up from the gravelly floor and started walking. Probably not the best idea, considering how shady and rundown the area looked. Best case scenario? He wouldn't get mugged, since he didn't have anything worth taking anyway.
Still, he carried on. Eventually, he found a puddle, murky, but reflective enough. What he saw confirmed his suspicions: grey hair, wolf ears resting atop his head, and a face that was entirely unfamiliar. He couldn't quite make out his eye color in the muddy water, but it didn't matter. It wasn't his face.
He sighed, hands dragging down his cheeks as he tilted his head toward the sky. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Please let this be a coma dream, he begged silently, for what felt like the hundredth time.
Another sigh. Then he turned and made his way back to the house, or rather, the mess of timber that barely qualified as one.
He vaulted through what might've once been a window, landing back in the bedroom. He gave the room another look.
Disappointing didn't even begin to cover it.
A scowl formed on his face. "It is what it is," he muttered, clearly coping. Whether it worked or not? Only he knew.
He walked over to the excuse for a bed and collapsed onto it, staring up at the ceiling. His mind churned.
Tomorrow, he'd have to talk to these supposed parents. It made sense to review his inherited memories, just so he wouldn't seem completely lost.
So he did.
For about an hour.
And then, finally, sleep took him.
…
The sun pierced through the cracks in the wooden walls, landing directly in his eyes.
Fenrir groaned.
He turned over with a wince, immediately regretting it. His back was killing him, thanks to the uneven surface of the so-called bed. The hay poked and scratched at his skin, and at some point in the night, he'd managed to kick the thin sheet completely off.
He scratched at his arm, frowning at the little red lines running across it.
Great.
Sitting up with a stretch, he felt something shift behind him.
Something… moving.
He blinked and looked over his shoulder.
His tail was swaying.
Wait–tail?
He stared at it in stunned silence for a second before grabbing it. Grey fur, soft to the touch. Definitely attached to him. His pants had a rough hole cut in the back to let it stick through. He wiggled it experimentally, watching it respond.
"How the hell did I miss that?" he muttered.
Well, he did have wolf ears now. A tail was just part of the package deal, apparently.
He sat in silence for a moment, running his fingers through the fur as if that might help him come to terms with it.
"Okay. Whatever," he said.
Then paused.
Maybe being in a beast kin body had its upsides. He was probably stronger, faster… something like that. He hoped so, at least.
With a sigh, he stood up and looked around the room again. Still depressing.
And today, he'd have to talk to his 'parents'.
That thought made his tail droop slightly.
Still, nothing he could do about it now.
Better get it over with.
Fenrir walked up to the door and paused. His hand hovered over the handle as he took a deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
The moment he opened it,
-CREAK-
the door let out a long, groaning creak, like a cackling witch announcing his arrival to the entire damn neighborhood. He winced.
Inside, he saw them. His parents.
Layla stood by a counter, wearing a simple green shirt with a faded brown tunic over it. A makeshift skirt wrapped around her waist. Her hair was some blue, cerulean seemed the right word. Her green eyes met his, tired but warm, and she smiled softly.
"Good morning," she called out, voice gentle.
The man sitting at the table, Jack, stirred, lifting his head from where it had been resting in his hands. His hair was the same shade of grey as Fenrir's, his eyes too, a muted contrast to Layla's vibrant green.
"Good, you're finally awake." His tone was gruff, but not sharp. His gaze dropped away, flicking over to Layla. Her expression hardened slightly.
He sighed.
"Listen, kid. I'm… sorry about yelling yesterday. I was in a bad mood. That asshole human cut my pay again, so now I gotta take extra shifts just to make ends meet."
Fenrir blinked.
He didn't remember being yelled at. At all. Maybe that was part of the whole new life situation. Either way, he didn't feel any bitterness.
Layla reached out and placed a hand on Jack's shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort. Then her eyes turned back to Fenrir.
"Uh… not a big deal," he muttered, hesitating a second, "Dad."
He glanced at Layla. "Oh, and good morning to you too, Mom."
That earned him a small smile from both of them.
Jack stood up, "Well, the days started. I'm off to the carriages", he said and headed out. The door to the outside creaked as he left, followed by the fading thud of his boots.
Layla had started gathering a few items into a worn satchel when Fenrir asked, "What are you doing?"
"Getting ready to set up shop," she replied casually.
As she said it, memories floated to the surface. Layla was a herbalist, the local one, in fact. Jack was a laborer. Nothing fancy, but honest work.
Fenrir nodded.
"Right… okay. Take care, Mom."
"You too, sweetie."
And with that, she left.
The door shut behind her, and the house fell into silence.
Now, Fenrir was alone.
"That went better than expected", he said to himself.
He was worried for nothing apparently.