There was a night while on a rescue mission in Germany when his mood was such and the call to go wild so strong, he’d stopped resisting and let the change take him. That particular winter in Deutschland, when the moon had silvered the night, he’d shifted after racing in secret to the nearby woods. The silvery air was gray with fog, and soft white snowflakes coated his fur. He issued one triumphant howl to express the joy of being free to run and run. With his paws pounding over the quickly whitening soft loam and his lungs sucking in the cold, clean air, he was running full out when his nose caught a dangerous scent filtering through that of the trees and snow.
Bear.