Ginger And The Wolf

CHAPTER 2

The moon hung low in the sky, a pale and distant witness to the horrors unfolding in the quiet suburban neighborhood. Golden sat on the edge of Ginger's bed, her hands gripping the edges of the mattress, her heart thundering in her chest as she tried to make sense of the changes happening before her.

Ginger was different. It wasn’t just the physical transformation—though that alone was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine—it was the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she looked at everything now as if nothing in the world was safe. The sweet, funny girl Golden had known was fading away, replaced by something darker, wilder. And Golden didn’t know what to do about it.

The first sign came only hours after the attack. Ginger’s scars, long claw marks that had raked across her body during the struggle with whatever had assaulted her, began to change. Instead of healing, they stretched, darkened, and thickened, as though the skin was growing over something beneath it, something… wrong. Golden noticed it first when they were at the park, Ginger absentmindedly running her fingers over her shoulder, her expression vacant. The skin around the scars had darkened, and to Golden’s horror, a fine layer of hair had started to sprout from the edges of the marks. It was thick and dark, like fur. The kind of fur that only animals had.

Golden had demanded Ginger see a doctor, but Ginger refused. "I'm fine," she had said, brushing it off with a forced smile. "Just a little side effect from the attack. It’ll pass."

But Golden knew better. The changes were only beginning.

Ginger began to grow more distant, her mood swings becoming unpredictable. One minute, she was laughing hysterically at something trivial, the next, she was brooding, glaring at anyone who dared to cross her path. She was quick to anger, snapping at people for the smallest of reasons. And it wasn’t just verbal aggression. The first time Golden saw Ginger lash out physically, she was stunned. At school, in front of a large crowd, Ginger had squared off with Triana, Triana was the school bully something about a comment on social media.

Golden watched, helpless, as Ginger’s eyes turned wild, her fists flying with unnatural speed and strength. She had thrown Triana to the ground, and before anyone could intervene, Ginger had rained down blows, her hands clawing and slashing at the girl’s face like a feral animal. Golden had rushed to stop it, but Ginger was too strong—too out of control. By the time a teacher arrived, Triana was bruised and bleeding, her once-perfect face mangled by Ginger’s fury.

That wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was when Ginger looked at Golden, her eyes glinting with something inhuman. "She deserved it," she had said, her voice low and guttural, as though it didn’t belong to her. "I don’t want her near me anymore. I don’t want anyone near me."

And then there was the tail.

Golden hadn’t known how to process it. One night, after a long and uncomfortable silence between them, Ginger had stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her body. Her back was turned as she pulled her hair into a messy bun, but Golden could see the shape of something protruding from the small of her back.

At first, she thought it was some strange illusion, but then Ginger turned around, and Golden saw it clearly: a long, sinuous tail, covered in dark, bristly fur, swaying behind her. Ginger didn’t seem surprised. She didn’t seem to care at all. She was too lost in herself to be concerned with the tail, and when she caught Golden’s shocked expression, she simply shrugged.

"It’s fine," Ginger had muttered. "Everything’s fine. Just—just leave me alone, okay?"

But Golden couldn’t leave her alone. Not when it was clear something was wrong.

The last straw, however, came a few days later.

Ginger’s behavior became more erratic, her moods darker. She hadn’t been herself for a while, but now it was becoming dangerous. At a party, she had met up with Jason McCardy, a classmate who was known for being reckless and irresponsible. Despite Golden’s warnings, Ginger had thrown caution to the wind and hooked up with him, with no protection, and no care for the consequences. Golden had tried to intervene, but Ginger brushed her off, laughing as she made her way to the bedroom with Jason.

Golden had tried to ignore it, tried to focus on other things, but the sight of Ginger walking away from her, her back straight and defiant, was burned into her mind. It felt like she was losing her, piece by piece. And the worst part was that Ginger didn’t even seem to care.

The next morning, Golden found Ginger in the kitchen, her eyes bloodshot, her hands shaking. She was covered in sweat, her breathing erratic. When she saw Golden, she tried to smile, but it was a weak, hollow gesture.

"I feel different," Ginger said, her voice trembling. "I feel... angry. I can’t stop it. I don’t know how to stop it."

Before Golden could respond, Ginger was out the door, her mind seemingly elsewhere. Golden followed her outside, and what she witnessed next made her blood run cold.

Ginger walked up to the neighbor’s dog, a small terrier that had been barking loudly earlier in the day, and without a word, she grabbed it by the throat. The dog yelped, its tiny body flailing in her grip, but Ginger didn’t stop. She squeezed harder, her eyes wide with an animalistic fury as the life drained from the dog.

Golden screamed, running toward her, but when she reached Ginger, it was too late. The dog lay lifeless in her hands. Ginger dropped the carcass, her expression blank.

"I couldn’t help it," Ginger said, her voice distant, almost detached. "I just—I couldn’t stop myself."

Golden didn’t know what to do anymore. She couldn’t just sit back and watch her best friend—her sister—fall apart. She had to find answers, had to do something before it was too late.