As Danielle Schvett rode along the open road, her thoughts kept tracking back to the events of the past six months, when the World learned of the Truth, that werewolves, aka lycanthropes lived in the world alongside normal humans.
To say the revelation shook everything right down to the foundations was itself, quite the understatement. To some, it was nothing too unusual and didn’t pay it much mind. Others were welcoming, trying to get special protections in place for them. But a greater number looked to this with fear, hostility, extermination being there declared end-goal, in one case, four of them burned alive, and live-streamed. And then there were those who simply saw them as animals to be studied, laboratory specimens. A lot of differing peoples, with an equal number of views, and somehow those like herself had to navigate their way though this bizarre maze of risks and rewards.
The thing was, unlike what certain folklore tales and more recently movies had depicted them as, they were anything but mindless savage beasts. In truth, they were cunning, intelligent, retaining rational thought even when covered in fur. Powerful, able to lift far more than their own weight. Mountainous endurance, she herself could run for over an hour before she tired. And with a higher calorie requirement, to sustain them if they were in that form, when their energy consumption was at its greatest. Not to say they lacked instinct, but with education, with training, they could easily keep on top of them. And in any case, why roar and leap at someone with claws and teeth? When you could just shoot them?
Over to herself though, she was one who had been born into a werewolf family, as opposed to being bitten and having it transferred in such a manner, and thus had had twenty-seven years to earn to deal with everything it entailed. Needing a higher meat quantity in her diet to keep herself healthy, and having trained herself to have fantastic control over the physical and mental aspects of her lycanthropy. That said though, there was one night each month where she had no option but to have the fur out, and when instinct was at its strongest, that being the night of the full, Full Moon. For all other times though, she was the one to decide it, and to what degree.
As a human, her shoulder-length auburn hair was usually allowed to hang loose, and her build could best be described as slim-but-toned, with moderate C-Cup breasts that were just the right size for her liking. As a werewolf, her muscles built up a good deal, to weightlifter proportions though her breasts didn’t increase in size to match the new physique, which was probably just as well given how uncomfortable that would make things for her if she were active at the time. In some respects, she looked like a wolf that could stand on two legs, with digitigrade feet, tail, snout and ears, the fur longer where her hair would be and the same colour as it.
For now though, she was in her human form, Waxing Gibbous Moon hanging overhead in the cloudless sky, riding a Honda Goldwing while dressed in black gloves and riding boots, with a matching padded one-piece riding suit and helmet, and nothing else on underneath it, just in case she needed to change forms and so have less to peel off should she be forced to. An understandable precaution given that those who despised her lot could be anywhere.
She was getting closer to her destination now, and with it, the reason for her being there.