Drake let out a howl and then jumped at them, his body exploding outward and changing rapidly as he did. The elongation of his nose and mouth got more pronounced, fangs sprouting out. Deadly, flesh-rending fangs that looked like they could strip an arm of its meat in less than a minute. Coarse, dark-gray fur sprouted out of almost every part of him. His form lengthened and his legs bent backward at the knee as his feet grew into claw-tipped, wolf-like paws.

When he landed and straightened to his full height, Lola stared at a humanoid, wolfish creature over eight feet in height. Its yellow-amber eyes stared down at her and its muzzle rippled as it growled. The beast was terrifying but there was a lankiness to its frame, Lola saw. Don’t get her wrong. It could still be able to rip her arms off her body without trouble, but despite that, Drake’s werewolf form still looked almost too thin. Sickly, even.

“Stay back,” Russel told her, pushing her behind him. “Do not do anything but stand there. Running away is useless now. They’ll track you down and rip you apart.”

“They’re going to rip me apart regardless,” Lola shouted.

“Not if I win,” Russel told her. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, smiling that irritating, devilish grin again. “What’s the matter? No faith in me?”

“What do you mean no faith?” she screamed back. “I don’t even know you. We just met.”

“I find your lack of trust in me hurtful,” he said in a teasing tone.

Before Lola could offer a comeback to that, he started to shift as well. He went through almost the exact same transformation Drake had just gone through with some clear differences. The first was that Russel’s fur wasn’t gray. His was a mixture of sandy brown, umber, and white. Where Drake was thin and sickly, Russel was clearly stockier and packed with heavier slabs of muscle. The claws at the ends of his fingers were thicker too. Deadlier. And when he stood to his full height, he had at least three or four inches on Drake. Out of the two of them, it was clear Russel was stronger, faster, and better in almost every way.

The two came together in a clash of claws, gnashing teeth, and snarls. Drake’s other werewolves stayed back but Lola kept her eyes on them, just in case. She didn’t trust them not to interfere and wanted to be ready if they did. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do to stop them if they tried but she searched the ground and found an arsenal of good-sized rocks to throw. It wouldn’t kill them but at least she’d be able to make them work for their kill a little bit before they tore her to shreds, if they did end up deciding to try that was.

Fortunately for her, they didn’t.

Instead, they just lounged against boulders, trees, or sat in the grass, watching with rapt attention the duel between the two werewolves. Lola couldn’t help but watch herself and grew excited when she saw how much trouble Drake was having against Russel. Several deep gashes had opened up on his body, pouring torrents of blood before sluggishly closing themselves up. One arm hung uselessly from its socket and one of Drake’s legs had been cut so deeply it barely held together. Russel took a few hits, mostly glancing blows because Drake had a hard time getting close enough to do any actual damage. The cuts Russel sustained closed up almost almost as soon as they were made. He barely had any blood staining his fur either. Between the two, the matchup almost seemed unfair.