Wolves were a big problem in the valleys where Louis lived. They killed livestock and made off with poultry, causing serious damage to a person's livelihood. And sometimes, in the harshest winters, they had even been known to make off with children.
Louis knew this all too well. After all, it was his job to keep wolves at bay. Thankfully, the wolves near his farm were too frightened of humans to be much of a problem. But if ever a wolf became so bold as to venture near the houses or into a town, that wolf must not be allowed to live.
So when Louis skidded around the corner and locked eyes with a mob of angry men, armed with knives and pitchforks, he knew he was in deep trouble.
The human in his head panicked. Fortunately, the wolf was in control now and wasted no time in scrabbling his paws, turning him back in the other direction. Louis had no time to worry if he were accustomed to four legs. He could hear the angry shouts and heavy footsteps of the mob on his tail.
His new nose could smell wood and leaves. The town sat on the edge of the forest. Louis knew he'd have a better chance chance of evading the mob there. So he followed his nose, darting in and out of the narrow streets until he found where the town ended and the forest began. Without pausing to worry if he could, he leapt the fence that separated the two and vanished into the trees.
The mob were still close on his tail, but the fence slowed them down. Louis kept running, over logs and under branches, his tongue lolling in his open mouth. Despite the danger, he was surprised to find he was enjoying himself. He had never run for his life before. It was a thrill he'd never experienced.
A few minutes later, he slowed to catch his breath. He could still hear the humans shouting to each other, but they were scattered about the forest and all a long way from him. As he looked back, he could see the sunlight creeping in from the edge of the forest. Turning back to face ahead, he saw where the trees thickened into gloom.
The wolf in his head yearned to go on, to disappear into the dark blanket of the forest. The human was sorely tempted to do the same, but feared losing what he left behind, feared losing himself. The wolf didn't understand why this was important.
Before the human could respond, Louis heard a snap from behind. Instinct took over. He leapt, twisting his body round in mid-air. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, making him yelp. When he landed, he came face to face with Warwick, who was loading a second bolt into his crossbow.
'Your hide will fetch a fine profit, wolf.'
This time, it was the wolf who panicked. It had heard the human language before but never understood it. Now, recognising the threat, and recognising what a crossbow was, the wolf was paralysed, and slunk back into the corners of Louis's mind.
The human, on the other hand, surged forward. The injustice of being murdered by his own brother welled up inside him, and reclaimed his body. His fur pulled back beneath his skin. His snout shrank down into a stubby human nose. His paws spread out into his familiar, five-fingered hands. His whole body expanded back to its normal size. It was quicker this time, now Louis wasn't resisting.
After a few, short moments, Warwick gaped at the sight of his brother, hunched naked and grubby in the dirt before him, his arm still bleeding from where he'd shot him.
'Um,' said Louis. 'Hello, brother.'