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The full moon rises as the ending of the evening comes, late in January, and he finds this fourth transformation slightly easier to bear. The bones twist and slide, grow and break, beneath his adjusting muscles. His fur rippled in the breeze, tufts of ebony becoming thick, as the silver design on his pelt glistened in the night air. His jaw was wrenched open as the skeleton of the beast slid into him-mouth pulled out and teeth becoming large, neck-breaking fangs. He howled, long and low, as his otter self was pressed away.

He stretched out his wolf body, tail flicking lazily, as his sea green eyes looked about. He had chosen a spot further from home, having felt the desire of blood and meat gnawing at his stomach-a soft tick tock of the potion's curse pulsing in his mind. He had no desire for anyone to connect him to himself, knowing that he looked the same he still hoped no one that knew him would find out that he was a wolf, a ravaging beast that liked to play with its food in an agonizing and cruel game. He wanted to believe that he would never be found out, never be hunted when he found himself once more as an otter.

A scent lingered on the wind. One he was desperate to explore. He grinned and sunk down, it was coming straight at him. This would be an easy kill, a mindless mute animal no doubt. Something he could play with, rip and shred, before eating it as a midnight snack.

His tail thudded against the snow in delight. A rabbit darted into the clearing and with a playful yip, he pounced it-teeth catching it around the scruff of the neck and tossing it into the air. He raised up on his hind legs, nipping at it before falling to the ground. It landed and he stopped it with one large paw.

And then the other scent came. A familiar scent. One that lured out the otter inside the wolf. He did not loosen his hold on the rabbit but he was no longer paying attention to it. He was both filled with rage that someone he knew might see him and oddly calm. The scent was not entirely the same, a different musk hung about it. It was changed too, almost familial now.

He waited, sea-green eyes narrowed. The rabbit shook under the large paw, a shrill scream escaping it's mouth as it attempted to get away. And he let it, it would encourage the creature to come forth so he could see it. Decide if he was going to kill it too or just the rabbit.

With the rabbit still firmly kept in place, he sniffed at the scent. The tendrils became thick and he inhaled it. It pulled at the memories of the otter out and splayed them out like a deck of cards-a creased card, a cream colored otter, a gold triangle, a conversation.

He shook his head watching as a bobcat came through the bushes. The same cream color, the same gold triangle. Except not an otter. Intriguing. Was it that the otter he remembered had suffered a similar fate as himself?

Bending down, he took hold of the rabbit with his teeth and flung it towards the cat. It would give him a moment to decide what to do, not to mention the cat was likely hungry. He gave a bark in encouragement and then sunk down into what looked like a relaxed pose though he was ready to spring at any moment.

He had to think of what to say, to confirm that this cat was usually an otter. One he had met.

"Lose any cards lately?" he quipped with a slow grin, ears twitching to lie back in suspicion. And yet his tail wagged low against the snow in playfulness.

The wolf chuckled at the hissing from the cat as the rabbit hit him in the face, he found it amusing and slightly disappointing on some level. He had thought the cat would catch the treat. And the comic falling only increased his amusement.

The amusement however was pushed back as the wide open eyes of the rabbit stared. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance, it had had so much more play in it to be killed so foolishly and so soon. "Foolish way to kill it," he commented with a slight tone of reproach.

Keiran was unsure of what he thought of the cat's lack of eating when opportunity was resting dead at his feet. Perhaps the otter, which he was sure must be the case, was still fighting the beast it had become. His own otter self often fought desperately at first--but the moon's pull was stronger.

"I would imagine so," he grinned. "You should eat that, before the scent attracts others that will steal it, unless you want company. In which case, broken legs might become a problem."

He walked towards the cat, tempted to attack as the scent of death stoked a carnal hunger within, but the otter wouldn't allow it. His fur bristled that his other self was dictating his movements. Each movement pulled blind tendrils of instinct that told him to kill, and he stopped in his tracks. "I could kill you," he drawled lazily, almost as if the idea was an afterthought of something much more torturous. "Or, I could help you."

He let it hang in the air, sea green eyes starring as his furry mouth curved up in a smirk. "What do you say?"

He held on to at least one more card, in case the bobcat decided against being smart and decided a fight would be wise. In truth he would hate to play it but if it meant saving his skin, saving this cat's skin--he would do what he had to. Even if he didn't know why he should care.

His thoughts were ruptured by the scent of fresh blood as the cat finally began to devour the treat. His tail twitched though he held himself back. Something else would come along to eat, stealing the rabbit would only start a fight of claws and teeth--one he had no desire, currently, to engage in with the cat.

He sat primly, looking wise and at peace with himself, while the bobcat finished the meal. It looked delicious and if it hadn't had the time to grow used to his transformations, to the hunger of the beast, more than likely he would have stolen not only the rabbit but taken more than a few bites out of the cat as well. Still it took effort to hush the beast's appetite, the irises of his sea-green eyes darkening as he reigned it back. There were moments when it was a test of will, of cunning, to simply think. Though this, he decided, was what he considered a relatively easy one.

A twitch of his ears was the only notice that he had heard the cat. His eyes continuing to stare just between the blood stained patch of snow and Swift. It wasn't for a lack of attention. The time seemed more apt to be used for the feline to wander around his own head, confusion and fear were wonderful assets--ones that he believed thrived best in quiet after a few choice words.

"Would you like a demonstration? To gauge how guilty or unguilty my mind would be?" he teased with a wicked gleam. Oh how what would please the beast--such a playful thing. Rising, he pointed his nose at the ground and shook his head. "No, that only works when someone loved is involved and, for the time being, I have no desire to hurt your family."

He stopped in front Swift, one large paw stepping with calculated precision in the midst of the splattered red upon what had once been white. Whether the otter within wanted it to be true or not, he was--had been--and would be a killer. The blood on his paws was literal. Much like the cat was now, the otter within had resigned himself that the wolf was not going away and all he could do was, as he always had, keep himself safe.

Still he did not care for the way the cat surrendered but thought it for the best. "There is always a choice, young one. We can be a pack, one where I teach you and we protect each other. Or we can be enemies if you prefer," his voice dipped with a low growl, because if they were to be enemies he knew better than to let the cat go unharmed.