Fenrir didn't ask permission.
The shift hit me like a wave crashing through every nerve simultaneously—bones cracking, frame expanding, the world dropping lower as four massive paws hit the ground. The gasps that broke through the clearing were immediate and sharp. People scrambled backward, the crowd splitting apart.
Fenrir was across the clearing in two strides.
The pack member barely had time to raise his hands before Fenrir's full weight came down—paws slamming into his chest, pinning him flat against the frozen ground. The impact shook the earth. Fenrir loomed over him, enormous and black as a starless night, his muzzle inches from the man's face, a sound building low in his chest that wasn't quite a growl and wasn't quite a warning. It was both and neither, and it was final.
The
