A Campground Just Outside of Town

The two of you head down a gravel road a few minutes out from town. You start hearing the raucous noise even before you see the lights among the trees, the faint points of your almost-human ears twitching to the sounds of whoops carrying over heavy music. Soon, a whiff of woodsmoke carries by the car window, and you can spy a roaring bonfire in a clearing ahead. You pull the car to a stop among a number of other vehicles, including a few motorcycles that look as if they might be brand new in the dim light.

Stepping out of the car, other scents carry to your flaring nostrils. Cooking meat, beer, and a heady animal funk that, while less ingrained than it was in the Werewolves' Den back at the haunted house, is unmistakable. The pack is increasingly making this area its own, including in a number of decidedly feral ways that bring a flush to your cheeks as you remember the brief exchange you and Allegra had when you smelled it back at the den. Your eyes dart to her and you see she's taking in the scents as well, her grin spreading as her teeth start to sharpen.

"Okay," she chuckles to you, "I take everything back. These bitches know how to have a good time."

"Even... uh... that?" you ask, canting your head to the alkaline reek that's wafting from a nearby tree.

"Especially that," Allegra smirks, elbowing you in the ribs and laughing as she sees you blush deeper.

"You're not gonna expect me to..." You trail off, looking to her meaningfully.

"See how you feel a few beers in," she snorts, clasping your hand and almost dragging you into the throng.

The women present are all definitely part of the pack. The smell alone confirms that, but every last one of them has gone through the same second puberty you and Allegra have. They're tall and stacked, firelight dancing over visible muscles playing under their skin. Some sport wild manes tumbling to sway near their taut, often leather-clad rumps. Others seem to have gotten the same idea you did and had their hair shaved or braided in styles reminiscent of some forgotten or half-imagined culture of warrior women. Most of them have slipped a bit south of human while drinking and carousing. You see quite a few sharp teeth, pointed ears, and eyes that reflect the firelight. Some have gone even further, their silhouettes haloed in the beginnings of pelts.

It's hard not to feel some sort of kinship here. You'd gotten a bit of that as you spotted the other girls in town, but here it's impossible to ignore. These are your kind, your... well, 'people' doesn't feel like the right word. None of you are 'people' when the moon's out, and you get the feeling most of this bunch are barely human even when it's not. You're having trouble finding anything wrong with that, in this rarefied air.

The firelight glints off the collar you still insist on wearing. Several pairs of gimlet eyes fix on it as you make your way to the bonfire's edge.

And there she is.

Lilith.

Her pale hair tinted ruddy gold in the firelight, a beer in one hand and the long-nailed fingers of the other curled around a packmate's waist. Her sharp-toothed grin lights up as she spies you.

"Red, you made it!"

"Seemed like a good time," you reply in what you hope is a nonchalant tone.

"I told the girls to keep it down to a dull roar until the main attraction got here," she says with a sly wink. "Go on, say somethin' to 'em."

She cants her beer bottle to the side, gesturing at a stout stump in front of the bonfire.

The unruly carousing is starting to quiet down as animal eyes bear down from all sides...

...at you.