The living room was still cloaked in shadows when Leah slipped out of bed, her heart tugging with worry. She’d barely slept. All she could think about was the wolf—soaked, trembling, bleeding just a little—curled up on their couch like something out of a dream or a nightmare. She hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, even for a moment.

The rain had stopped. The storm was gone.

But Leah couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

She crept into the living room quietly, tiptoeing over the creaky floorboards. The couch sat in its usual spot, still piled high with blankets.

She moved closer, frowning a little.

Where fur had once peeked out, there was now… skin.

Leah blinked.

Her heart skipped.

She leaned down, fingers trembling, and slowly pulled back the blanket.

And froze.

A bare shoulder.

Collarbones.

A woman.

Lying on her couch.

Leah stared, eyes wide, her mouth parting but no sound coming out.

Then, breathless—“Briar.”

No response.

Louder: “Briar.”

Nothing.

Panicked whisper: “Briar get your ass in here right now.”

Still nothing.

And then finally—

“BRIAR!”

Briar burst in seconds later, wearing one sock, one slipper, and her sleep shirt backward. “What?! Is she gone?! Did she die?!”

Leah didn’t speak.

Just pointed.

Briar followed her gaze to the couch and squinted into the dim light.

Then blinked.

Then blinked again.

“…That’s a woman,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Where’s the wolf?”

“That is the wolf.”

Silence.

Briar stared.

The blanket had fallen slightly askew, revealing the curve of a hip and one long, toned leg. The woman was completely out—dead asleep, lips parted, one hand tucked beneath her head like she hadn’t just transformed from a hundred-pound canine hours earlier.

Briar stared harder.

Leah slapped her arm. “Don’t ogle her!”

“I am processing,” Briar whispered back. “Like a respectful, poly, absolutely shocked girlfriend.”

“You are drooling.”

Briar wiped her mouth. “Am not.”

“You so are.”

The woman made a soft noise in her sleep and shifted, hair spilling over her cheek in thick, messy waves. Her breathing remained even, calm. Completely unaware of the chaos she was causing.

Leah stepped back, eyes wide. “This is not normal. None of this is normal.”

“I mean,” Briar said, rubbing her face and looking at her again, “we did bring home a stray wolf during a full moon. This is kind of on us.”

Leah groaned, dragging both hands down her face. “We have to tell her when she wakes up. We bathed her. Toweled her off. I kissed her nose.”

Briar nodded solemnly. “I dried her paws. This relationship is already more intimate than most.”

Leah looked at her. “You are not allowed to flirt with her.”

“Oh come on—what if she’s into us?”

“She’s a werewolf, Briar!”

“And we’re adorable. It balances out.”

Leah was about to respond when the woman stirred again—this time more noticeably. Her brows furrowed. Her nose wrinkled. Then, slowly, she blinked awake.

Golden eyes stared up at them.

Leah froze.

Briar straightened her posture.

The woman blinked once. Then again. Then let out a long, gravelly sigh and croaked:

“…Why does my back hurt.”

Then she noticed them.

The golden eyes sharpened. Her mouth opened slightly.

And Leah—who had just begun to recover her ability to breathe—promptly yelped and jumped back three feet.

Briar, cool as ever, lifted a hand in a small wave. “Hi. You might not remember us, but we remember you. And also… you were very fluffy.”

The woman stared at them in confusion, still tangled in the blanket.

“I—” she rasped, clearing her throat. “I fell asleep.”

“Yeah,” Briar said. “Right after bleeding in our alley and passing out on our couch. You know, the usual.”

Leah finally stepped forward again, softer now, voice shaking but kind. “You were hurt. We just wanted to help. We didn’t know… that you’d shift back.”

The woman blinked at her.

Leah smiled nervously. “But um… you’re really pretty.”

Briar grinned, arms crossed. “And now that we’re all here and not howling, maybe we could start with names?”