The Bitch - 7

Ian stood in the doorway, his small frame silhouetted by the warm glow spilling out from the kitchen. His eyes widened as they landed on Jill—her sleek Collie fur shimmering under the faint light from the porch. She crouched awkwardly, unsure of herself, her golden eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment before she turned her gaze away.

Those eyes had changed in the last hour. The vibrant colors of the world had drained into shades of gray, not unpleasant but unfamiliar. The shadows no longer held secrets, her vision sharp even in the dimmest corners. The scents, though—those were overwhelming, layers of information pouring through her nose, adding meaning to every waft of air.

Stephen had gone inside hours earlier, pouring over his computer in search of answers. While he studied, Jill explored the yard, every blade of grass and twist of bark carrying a story she couldn’t help but follow. The world was a symphony of smells—rich, layered, and infinitely complex. She had been so immersed in it that she nearly missed the faint hum of an approaching SUV, the familiar rumble of tires on their gravel driveway.

Her head snapped up, her ears swiveling instinctively as the vehicle pulled into the driveway. The air shifted, and she caught the comforting scent of Stephen mingled with another—softer, sweeter, unmistakably Ian. Her tail wagged before she could stop it, the motion automatic, driven by the joy of their return. She crept closer to the fence, peering through the slats, her heart pounding as she saw them emerge from the car.

“When did we get a new dog?” Ian’s voice was filled with delight, his excitement bubbling over as he pointed toward her.

Jill’s heart twisted painfully. She wanted to rush to him, to explain, to tell him it was her. His mother. But when she tried, only a soft, low whine escaped her throat. Her ears flattened against her skull as she lowered her head, shame and frustration washing over her.

Stephen stepped in smoothly, ruffling Ian’s hair with an easy smile. “You like her, sport?” he asked, his voice calm and practiced.

Ian beamed, nodding as he took a tentative step toward the fence. “She’s beautiful!”

Jill’s tail wagged despite herself, her emotions a tangle of relief and heartbreak. She wanted so desperately to bridge the gap, to connect with Ian beyond the wagging tail and the soft eyes. But as the boy reached out a hand, she could only sniff at it, her heart aching with the distance between who she had been and who she was now.

Ian’s grin widened, his curiosity shifting into delight. “Yeah! She’s awesome! What’s her name?”

Stephen hesitated for half a second before replying, “I think she needs one.”

Jill’s head snapped up, and she gave Stephen a sharp bark, her tail swishing indignantly behind her. He was going to let Ian name her?

Ian giggled, clapping his hands. “Hmmm.” He ran his fingers through her soft fur on top of her head. She'd had long brunette hair only a few hours before but the last of it had fallen away. "Molly," He smiled. "She looks like a Molly."

He darted forward, holding up a piece of rope he’d found in the yard. “Wanna play?”

Jill’s initial instinct was to back away, but something in Ian’s excitement tugged at her. She gave a tentative bark and took the rope in her teeth, her jaw surprisingly strong as she pulled gently. Ian’s laughter bubbled out, pure and unrestrained, and Jill felt a pang of warmth amid the strangeness of it all.

They had decided not to tell Ian who she had been. Or who she was. Jill hadn't want to confuse the boy, and until they could glean the secret of the transformation out of the Loup Garou, she'd be relegated to a different position in the family.

They played tug-of-war for a few minutes, Ian tugging with all his might and Jill letting him win just enough to keep him laughing. For the first time since her transformation began, Jill felt a sense of normalcy—a fleeting moment where she wasn’t the monster, just… a mother. A mother disguised as a dog, but a mother nonetheless.

Ian fell back onto the grass, out of breath but still giggling. “She’s the best dog ever, Dad! Can she sleep in my room tonight?”

Stephen knelt beside him, his expression kind but firm. “She’s not ready for that yet, buddy. She’s… still getting used to us.”

Ian pouted but nodded. “Okay. But she’s really cool.” He gave Jill a final pat on the head before darting back inside, leaving the door swinging behind him.

Jill turned to Stephen, dropping the rope at his feet. “Mowwy?” she growled, her voice rough and distorted.

Stephen shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s better than ‘Spot,’ don’t you think?”

Jill huffed, shaking her head. But deep down, she couldn’t deny it: seeing Ian happy, hearing his laughter, even as a “dog,” it had been worth it.

But the question lingered in her mind, gnawing at her like an itch she couldn’t scratch: How long could they keep this up before the truth came out?