NO.
That was impossible.
Once a werewolf, always a werewolf.
She could never lose her wolf; it was a part of her, she was the wolf. So she reached again, and still, yet, she found nothing.
Her hands trembled as they slowly reached up to her chest, and she banged against it over and over again, as if expecting her wolf to respond in rage, but all that surrounded her was silence. Tears streamed down her cheeks as a wave of emotions washed over her.
It was different to grieve one who was dead, but how do you grieve yourself knowing that you still live, but you are incomplete?
Numbness tried to consume her, but she fought against it.
It was this room; it had to be. There was something in this room that was suppressing her wolf beyond her control; she had to get out of this room.
