Fenrir awoke among a pile of trash bags. His eyes were bleary from too much alcohol and his head thumped in rhythm with the muffled beat of nightclub music. Never again… Last night had been a bad idea. Drinking contests were a bad idea in general he decided. He lifted his enormous head reluctantly and shook out his fur, wobbling dangerously on unsteady legs. After surviving many a hangover, Fenrir had found that for some reason the pain was easier to handle in this form. Probably had something to do with body mass or the way it processed alcohol. He always found himself wondering what would happen if you gave a real wolf a couple glasses of whiskey and had promised himself he’d find out one day.

His maul opened wide and he yawned. Rows of razor sharp teeth glimmered in the dull light that filtered in from the main street. I need a glass of water… A growl rumbled in his stomach and he sighed. And a bite to eat… Visions of raw cuts of steak danced in his head… bloody and fresh. Just the way he liked it.

Fenrir willed himself into his human shape and he contorted grotesquely, fur falling away in large bunches until he stood stark naked in the trash heap. Another thing about being a wolf was it made it easier to sleep in some pretty unorthodox places. Whether it be this back alley or draped over an overturned pool table… He searched among the rubbish until he found the little yellow grocery bag he kept his clothes in. “Found yah!”

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Sugar Sweet Weather~