Chapter Text
Shane was thirteen years old and shaking, knees drawn up as he sits on the floor, pressed into the corner of his room with the wall biting into his back. He bit his lip to swallow the sob that threatened to escape his dry throat.
He knew in theory that this day was coming, his first shift. They discussed it at school, at length, explained the what and the why and the how. He talked about it all carefully with his parents, made detailed plan after plan in his head, a long list of possibilities and preparation. But feeling the way his body, so tightly controlled at all times, was suddenly shifting into something else, something different, terrified him to his core.
And so even though Shane knew it was the exact opposite of what he should be doing, and it wasn’t accordingly to any of his plans, he found himself curled up on the floor of his room, hiding. He battled against the feeling with tooth and nail, the tension coiled in his body so tight he felt he would snap. He breathed deeply through his nose, and rested his forehead on his knees, and sweated and shivered, and bit his lip, and shoved it down as deep as it could go.
Shane didn’t know how long he stayed like that, desperately fighting himself, unable to let go. He tried to ride out the waves of bone-deep pain that shuddered through his aching body, even as they started to hit harder, sharper, and felt like licks of electricity flaring down his spine.
He bit his lip harder, to keep himself quiet, and tasted the tang of blood inside his mouth.
That broke the last thread of control.
Whatever beast was inside him was wildly twisting out of his desperate grasp, and he was no longer controlled by anything but instinct, snapping teeth and fear. He rolled himself completely to the ground, arching his back, and the shift rolled over him like a tidal wave.
When Shane found his way up again, he was no longer shaking. He rose slowly and carefully on four steady paws. He took a few wary steps forward, ears pricked forward alertly as he listened to the house around him, the distant voices of his parents downstairs. Everything was louder, sharper. He breathed in the rich layered scents of his room, some familiar and some alien.
It felt like a new layer of the world, that had been unseen before, was suddenly revealed in startling high definition.
It felt like something warm and soft and feral clicking into place somewhere in his chest.
With something between terror and joy, he steps forward out of his room and into the changed world.
---
“A coywolf?” His mother’s voice, sharp with shock, made Shane flinch. Not much could shock Yuna Hollander.
The beast inside him, already on edge, bared it’s teeth silently.
“Yes, it’s quite rare! A hybrid presentation. Very unusual indeed.” The doctor’s voice, on the hand, was elated. “Coyote shifters are rare, and coywolf shifters even rarer! There are only a few documented cases here in Canada, a few more in North America, but still largely unheard of.”
Shane felt his parents looking at each other, sitting on either side of him in the uncomfortable medical office chairs, communicating silently like they often did. The doctor continued on happily, oblivious to the rising tension in the room.
“You two present as wolves, but my guess is that perhaps a recessive gene that was dormant, lying submissive to more dominant genes, and played a role in this particular presentation of your boy Shane here. They’re still studying this matter extensively, you know, all the factors that may be involved in such unique shift presentations, and how nature and nurture and changing environments and such may all play a role. I’ve read many interesting studies and theories on the topic, it really is quite fascinating.”
The doctor leaning forward, as if unable to contain his excitement, the smile visible through his white beard beaming at the Hollander family, Perhaps this was the highlight of his career.
Meanwhile, Shane felt like his career, his whole life, was ending. He couldn’t look at his mother or his father.
He was a freak, a hybrid. Lacking, less then, incomplete, flawed. He stared at the ground and tried to disappear.
As if reading his mind, Yuna asked,“What does this mean for his hockey career?” The edge in her voice made Shane glance up. His mother was staring at Shane now, eyes calculating. Shane’s thoughts were loud, vicious, relentless, a whirlpool of panic and shame in his brain pulling him down.
His father was also looking at Shane, gently, completely calm. Always an anchor in the stormy Hollander family sea. His steady presence and soothing pheromones helped Shane take a deeper breath, and then another, waiting for the doctor’s answer.
The doctor seemed bemused by the question, leaning back in his chair and stroking his beard thoughtfully.
“While it’s true that wolf shifters tend to dominate in team sports, hockey in particular, I imagine a coyote, or coywolf in this case, could participate as well. Though perhaps not at the professional level.”
The words fell like stones in the air, and made Shane’s stomach drop. His mother turned her sharp-edged gaze to the doctor, and the sudden hint of ozone in the air made Shane’s hackles rise. His father made a soft sound, perhaps of warning. To who, Shane wasn’t sure.
The doctor continued obliviously, adjusting his glasses, looking at Shane too close and too much, like he was a fascinating bug pinned and displayed for examination. “But they also pack predators after all, smart, fast, adaptable. Compatible with wolves. Able to pick up on the team’s pheromones and signals, at least to some extent.”
He tutted a bit and shook his head, still smiling. “However, I’d recommend just playing hockey recreationally, and not go too hard. Coyotes, even coywolves, will never quite measure up to a full wolf when it comes to strength and overall athletic skill, and-”
Three pairs of Hollander eyes turned to look him.
Whatever he saw there made the doctor quickly swallow the rest his words, face blanching. He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze submissively to to the papers in his hands, shuffling them as he shifted backwards in his seat.
“Well, uh, so yes to hockey. Of course. Uh well then, moving on.” He gestured vaguely at a new medical form. The brightness in his smile was down several watts, and flickering uncomfortable on his pale face. “Uh, let’s move forward then and discuss other details. For example, to uh keep in mind, well, you know, since this is such a special, unique, uh, case-” the doctor’s unsteady voice, not so elated now, faded away.
And Shane felt his family rally around him, ready to fight. For him, with him. His pack. Their fierce love and acceptance wrapped around him protectively, like his hockey gear, like armor.
He sat up straight in his chair and his whirling mind kicked into high gear, thinking, strategizing, plans laid out lighting fast, almost as fast as he was out on the ice. Impossible to catch, impossible to pin down.
The beast inside Shane snarled, a promise, and Shane agreed, teeth bared in answer.
He would show them all.
He would be the best.