You collect the diary and return to the relative safety of the vehicle.
After clicking on the dome light, you thumb backward a few pages and begin to read…
Sept 5: Miles approached me and the other interns today, requesting assistance on a shoot. He was frank about where he wanted us to go, maybe too frank. Most
of the students didn’t stick around to listen. A few actually laughed. I knew I wanted in.
Is it actually possible, a land where it’s always night and the moon’s always full? Could werewolves be real? I couldn’t pass this up. It’s what I’ve wanted for so
long.
Sept 7: It’s real! Everything Miles said was true! My heart’s been blasting in my chest like a subwoofer at max volume. We spent most of the day…or what I
perceived as day, based on my watch…searching for clues to the existence of the werewolves. So far, we’ve had no luck.
That night, I had some weird dreams. I was running, naked, and howling at the moon. I’ve never felt so free in my life. I’d dreamed of finding a real werewolf and
becoming its mate many times, but this felt more intense. I honestly felt like it was happening. I spent hours dreaming of them afterward. Eventually, I had to slip
into the bathroom and masturbate to steady my mind.
Miles has no clue why I want to find them…
Sept 8: Still no luck. Miles is beginning to worry. I’m still confident we’ll find them. Actually, I’m beginning to think they’ll find me.
The dream came back last night. As I ran, a unique scent caught my attention. I traced it to another naked woman, trim and tanned with beautiful ashen hair. I
locked eyes with her; her eyes were amber, like a wolf’s. She beckoned me to her, and I approached. The touch of her fingers on my skin was electric, and I
moaned in pleasure when she kissed me. We touched each other in the most intimate of ways, and even in my sleep I felt myself nearing orgasm. She asked me to
join her. I gasped a yes, and felt the soft pain of her bite. She pleasured me tirelessly as I writhed in ecstasy and change, and merged her own howl with mine as I
became complete.
I woke up, sweating and wet. Again, I had to pleasure myself, telling Miles that I didn’t feel well when he heard me. I came; stifling any outburst for fear that I
would howl.
I didn’t have to. Something else did it for me.
Miles sprang to attention, urging me to hurry. I cleaned myself as best I could, and went out to find them.
I only hope they desire me as much.
Your mind races to process these entries. Zoë wanted to be a werewolf? You never realized that about her.
The next entry is in the same shaky script of the warning.
Or was it a…invitation?
Sept 10: I am Windsong. I am whole.
The transformation was exhilarating. It felt so wonderful to feel my body change, to grow strong muscles and warm fur. My howl was like the sweetest orgasm.
I have been blessed with a beautiful body by my pack mates, and by Great Wolf. In this sacred land, beneath Luna’s watchful eye, I will never fear disease, never
grow old, and never die. My strength is immense, my speed unmatched. No predator is greater than me.
This journal is my last link to the human Zoë, and soon I will discard it, as I have discarded my old human life. I am no longer human, and I have never been
happier.
Miles is dead. The pack had to kill him to protect ourselves from exposure. The locals respect us; some fear and some envy, but outsiders endanger us. The males,
especially, share no connection with our spirits. Females are drawn here. Soon, I will select one special human, and bless her with the gifts of Great Wolf. I will
have my mate, just as Snowclaw and Ashmane are mated.
I will give this journal to the woman I have selected, that you may know what you will be given. I will never harm you; you will be protected even if you remain
human. Know that you can not leave this land; you are a part of it now, no matter what form you wear.
Do not fear me. I only wish to free you.
You shudder as you read the last words over and over. She wants to make you a werewolf!
Maybe she was lying, you think. You could find a way out, if you searched hard enough.
Thoughts of her dreams wash over your mind. Frightening as it seems, it sounds like bliss. You think over your thankless retail job, the toil of your classes, and the
promise of a career beneath a glass ceiling. A scowl crosses your face at the memories of ex-boyfriends and their fake promises of love, spoken to increase the
chances of getting into your pants. You’ve resisted, saving yourself for Mr. Right.
Your attention turns to the forest. What if Mr. Right isn’t a Mr. after all?