The curse of Silverwood

She tried to scream, but her voice was lost in the guttural growl that erupted from deep within her chest. Her hands, once delicate, grew thick and clawed, her jaw elongating into a muzzle

lara felt a tug of recognition, a strange connection to this creature. But the moment passed, and the wolf melted into the trees, leaving her alone with her rampage. When the moon finally sank beneath the horizon and the transformation receded, Elara awoke naked and trembling in the middle of the forest, her body covered in dirt and blood. She had no memory of what she had done, but the evidence was clear in the carnage around her-shredded animal corpses, broken branches, and deep claw marks in the earth. Stumbling back to her cabin, Elara was consumed by guilt and fear. She knew now what had happened: she was a werewolf, cursed like the creatures in the old legends. The bite she had received that first night in the forest had infected her, turning her into the very thing the villagers feared. But even as horror settled over her, a darker part of her mind thrilled at the memory of the hunt, the raw power coursing through her veins. And then there was the other wolf-the one who had watched her. Who was it? And why did she feel connected to it? Determined to find answers, Elara knew she couldn't stay in Silverwood. She couldn't risk harming the villagers, nor could she bear the thought of being hunted down if they discovered what she was.