“Bad dog!” Oz admonished the very embarrassed-looking Chops, his familiar looking guilty as only a dog with two pairs of eyes could. Looking between him and the unconscious student, Oz felt a bit bad about yelling. If it was anyone's fault, it was technically his, or maybe the squirrels'.

  He sighed. He should get some collars for Chops. Before that he had to deal with this situation. “Chops, can you go get that minotaur bloke? You remember the big bull man.”

  Chops nodded before loping off. Then Oz turned to the immediate issue.

  Oz looked over at the beastkin student and wondered if she was as cursed with bad luck as he clearly was. He'd rounded the corner in time to watch it all play out. He'd even stopped Chops and tried to warn her before she brained herself on a low-hanging branch.

  Oz began to approach, hoping that she wasn't quite as unconscious as she appeared. He had significant training in first aid, in part because it was a ranger requirement, but mostly through patching himself up. [Trollish Regeneration] worked best when supported. He knew that even a temporary concussion was not going to do her any favours.

  She began to stir, and Oz let out a sigh of relief, which quickly turned to horror as he realised the woman wasn't getting up, she was growing upwards. There was the sound of things tearing.

  “Err, Miss?”

  The girl was a willowy sort, with a runner's build. She had certainly got some speed up before hitting that branch. Now though, her body was shifting, her arms lengthening and her fingers turning to claws. Fur began to spill from her body, just as he saw the seams of her clothes start to stretch.

  Oz relaxed for half a second when he saw the fur start to grow, thank the weave, no nudity incident today. But then the gains hit. Her lithe form bulked up fast, unfairly fast, like a transformation montage on fast-forward. Seams split. Fabric tore. The fur tried to keep up but was getting lapped hard.

  Oz began to panic.

  He could handle violence. He could handle trouble. But this, accidentally peeping on a transforming, unconscious woman, that was a moral disaster he wasn’t prepared for. Especially since he’d kind of, sort of, maybe been responsible for knocking her out in the first place.

  Unforgivable.

  Even the Other agreed it was a step too far, though Oz suspected it wouldn’t exactly complain if it caught a glimpse.

  “Nope. No. Calm down,” he muttered aloud, half to himself, half to her, vainly hoping she might, by some miracle, stop transforming.

  With zero good options, he dropped his box of loot, yanked off his Noxarcer coat, and threw it over her as fast as he could. Then clamped his hands over his eyes for the second time that day.

  Not a moment too soon. The next thing he heard was a lot of tearing fabric. He exhaled hard, relief flooding in as he heard movement. Then a low, pained grunt.

  She was awake and not yelling at him.

  “Miss, I'm really sorry that Chops startled you, he's just never seen a squirrel before. I'll pay for the clothes, alright, you can keep the coat.” Oz stumbled over his words, only realising he should’ve checked if she was alright first.

  There was a scraping sound, like she was trying to pick herself up.

  “Miss, you should stay down after a concussion.” No response, which was worrying. He began to lower his hand, his priority was her safety over dignity. “Can you at least let me know if it's safe to look so I can help?”

  The answering growl had his hands right back over his eyes.

  “Miss, I know first aid, if you get that coat on it should adjust to your size and then I can—” Oz thanked his improved awareness for catching the hiss of wind, his instincts dragging him under the blow that went straight for his neck. The blow still clipped his shoulder, and he was sent tumbling to one side. He inadvertently took his hands off his face to help catch himself.

  Good news, he avoided accidental voyeurism. Bad news, there was a werewolf looming over him.

  There'd been one of them in the year above him so he recognised the build. The thankfully thick layer of fur was now complete over a chunky body. The girl had to have been six foot and she'd gained another foot with the transformation, and that was ignoring the rabbit ears she'd somehow kept in this form.

  “Look, I understand you might be angry,” Oz said, dodging another swipe.

  “I'm just trying to help—” Oz was interrupted as the beast kicked out at him and he dodged, the claws almost cutting open his dungarees. Having just avoided voyeurism, he wasn't keen to add exhibitionism in its place.

  Apparently it was time for violence, because of course it was.

  As she slammed into him he winced. Most of what he was wearing wasn’t working with [Hoodlum]. His clan wraps the only exception. Catching the blow on his arm, slicing the sleeve to ribbons. He had enough experience to recognise the blow should've sent him sprawling but with his enhanced physique and toughness it just knocked him back.

  Classes made all the difference.

  The Other was yelling at him to return the attacks but Oz knew better. He wasn't sure what tipped him off, if it was the drool, the crazed eyes, or the mindless attacks, but he was pretty sure that this girl wasn't in her right mind.

  Attacks were off the table.

  She’d been terrorised, knocked out, and partially stripped, Oz wasn’t about to add a beating to that list. No matter how sharp her claws looked right now.

  But survival, that was still a priority.

  He grounded his stance, centring his weight low, shoulders loose. Every part of his body moved in sync now, like the gap between thought and action had finally caught up to his training. He didn’t feel bulky, he felt coiled, like all his strength had finally come into alignment. It was like moving in a body that had been built properly.

  It was just like a scrap back home.

  The wolf-girl lunged, fast and wild, but not unskilled. Her clawed foot swept out in a roundhouse aimed squarely at his throat.

  Oz didn’t flinch. He intercepted the strike with both forearms, arms snapping into a textbook block, clan wraps bracing the impact, absorbing just enough to stop the claws from biting in. His shirt sleeves were reduced to mere ribbons, fabric flapping free, but the damage would leave him with bruises, though they’d be gone soon enough.

  Then the weight of her full paw slammed into his guard and launched him backwards, boots tearing shallow trenches in the dirt.

  He skidded, caught his balance, and grinned. His arms tingled, sure, but no break, only another bruise.

  He almost whistled in appreciation. Given his improved abilities, this girl could really land a hit.

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  The wolf stared at him, visibly confused, though the expression was hard to take seriously with those floppy rabbit ears drooping like sad antennae. Apparently this wasn’t how its encounters usually went.

  He glanced up, trying not to sound too impressed with himself. “You calming down yet?”

  The wolf howled in response.

  [Dwarven stubbornness has helped you resist a mental attack]

  “I'll take that as no then?” Oz felt the attack slide off. This one was weaker than the Jackals had been. Seemed her strength lay in her physical side.

  Now he just had to hold out. His connection with Chops told him his familiar was getting closer, a sense in the back of his mind that was growing louder and louder.

  The next few seconds had him dodging and weaving around increasingly frenzied attacks, as the werewolf frantically sought to claw him to pieces. He took damage here and there but he’d learned her tricks and was able to stay ahead of each attack.

  “What's going on here?” The minotaur arrived round the corner at full run, with Chops by his side. The hound’s eyes locked onto the wolf, and he began to growl.

  “No, Chops! She's frenzied, not her fault,” Oz managed to yell. They didn’t need more people entering the fray here. Oz hoped the teacher had a better way of handling a scrap than the only other minotaur Oz knew, a bouncer for the Og’s bar, whose approach to most issues was extreme use of fists.

  The minotaur surprised him by casting a spell that sent chains spiralling out of the ground, pinning them both down. He then approached the girl and pulled out some powder and blew it in her face. She settled down as she started to whine.

  “Err, if that is going to make her turn back to normal can you go grab my coat from over there and throw it over her?”

  “Damn it!” The minotaur ran over and threw the coat over her. Oz couldn't help but notice that as far as the coat was concerned the glowing chains didn't exist. Checking his own bindings, he realised they too were bound right to his skin, pushing right through the fabric. The Other was very interested in the first example of magic that wasn’t trying to kill him.

  “Now, what happened here?”

  “Chops there chased a squirrel. Squirrel decided to bolt out of the forest between her legs. She took one look at Chops and sprinted headlong into a tree branch. I don't rightly know why she turned into a crazed werewolf with bunny ears though.”

  “Oh, I remember her in my notes.” He pulled out a packet of notes seemingly from nowhere and started to leaf through them before raising an eyebrow. “And you'd be?”

  “Ozren Grimbrow. I doubt I'd be in there. I'm a recent change.” Oz tried to not look guilty, which was hard given the wrapping of glowing chains.

  “You seem strangely calm?”

  “About being chained up? I mean, I would be happy if you let me go, but it's not like it's clear what's going on here. I could be as much of a threat as she is, so I'm not going to complain.” Oz had been in trouble often enough to know that often the best thing you could do was make whoever's job it was to clean it all up as easy as possible.

  “That's good to understand, but I meant you just had a werewolf mauling you?” He gestured to Oz's shredded sleeves.

  “Ehh, she's strong but not a very skilled fighter in that form. Didn't even get past my clan wraps or skills.”

  “I see…” The teacher gave him an odd look. He finally found a page he was looking for, and pulled out a pair of glasses that looked positively tiny on his over-large head.

  “Angeline Goodweather, hmmm, I see. Hmm, why hasn’t she got a class, she should have an exemption.” The minotaur read the notes, nodding to himself. In front of Oz, Angeline began to shrink. Oz, still bound with minimum movement, shut his eyes and threw his head to one side. The coat didn’t quite cover everything.

  “Chops, go hide in a bush or something.” The dog nodded and loped away just in time as, from the sounds of panicked breathing and rustling of clothing, it seemed like she'd just come to.

  “What's going on, why are there chains… oh no, not again!” A voice Oz would describe as mousey greeted them.

  “Miss Goodweather, I'm Professor Oxley. I'm going to release the chains in a moment so you can ensure you're decent. I trust that you won't have an issue controlling yourself?” Both men were currently looking as far away from her as it was possible to do so.

  “No, thank you.” A momentary rustling and a deep sigh passed before Angeline took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hurt anyone, did I? I mean, not just physically, but emotionally too. Some transformations induce fear-based trauma responses and…”

  “No, you didn't. Everyone's fine. Are you decent?” Oxley waited till he heard her say yes, after which Oz's chains dissolved into mist. Oz stood slowly and stretched to find the werewolf he'd just been fighting now in the form of a bunny-eared woman trying to make herself as small as possible. Oz mentally slapped the Other and focused on her face, which was a mask of worry and embarrassment.

  “Are you alright, Miss? You clocked yourself something nasty on that tree,” Oz offered.

  “I’m okay. My healing factor is nearly instantaneous as a lycanthropic hybrid case, though my thaumaturgic stability is going to take some time to recover, and maybe…” Angeline spoke like she ran, fast and without awareness of her surroundings. Her rapid self-examination was interrupted as she finally took in Oz for the first time. Seeing his shredded sleeves, she reached out to examine his arms. “Are you okay? Oh Nether, look at your sleeves, I must’ve, I hurt you! It's all gone wrong.”

  “Ah, please keep the coat closed.” Oz jumped back. “Look, Miss, it’s not a big deal. Please don't worry, not even in my top ten worst beatings,” Oz offered, smiling desperately. He’d never had to deal with someone apologising after a fight before.

  “How many beatings have you taken?” That question came from Oxley, and Oz knew that sentence was going to come back to bite him. Note to self, don't mention the beatings in front of the teachers.

  “Errr… I meant sparring sessions.” Oz scratched the back of his head awkwardly. From the looks he was getting, they weren't buying it. He sighed.

  “Oh Rifts, I nearly forgot, there's a monster on the loose! A huge dog with two heads, certainly at least an F-Tier threat, it was watching me,” Angie said, looking around in desperation.

  “That's my familiar, Chops. I'm sorry he scared you, he's just never chased a squirrel before and got a bit excited,” Oz explained. Chops, hearing his name called, appeared out of the shrubbery. Angeline squeaked and pulled back before relaxing as the dog padded up beside him.

  “I’ve never seen such a large familiar up close before. They’re usually, well, they’re more symbolic conduits for magical transference than actual combatants. Most familiars enhance spell skills or add magical enhancements. He, though, looks built for combat. Sorry, I’m just, this is fascinating.” She murmured, offering a hand out to pet him, which Chops immediately leant into. Her stream of consciousness derailed by a judicious petting.

  “Chops is unique. I really need to get him a collar or two. Something that says he’s tame. I only got him yesterday.” Oz relaxed a bit. Things had calmed down, it didn’t seem like he was in trouble. Soon this’d all be behind them. Then Angeline started to sniffle.

  “I messed everything up, stupid rabbit blood!” She looked on the verge of tears.

  “Please don’t be upset, it’s fine. Chops is sorry for scaring you, aren't you, bud,” Oz said, and Chops made a chuffing noise in agreement, nuzzling the girl to distract her.

  “But—”

  “I agree with Mr Grimbrow here. Given what's in your notes, it’s very much not your fault, you should’ve been given a medical exemption to get your class the second you joined us. That would’ve helped you stabilise the conflict in your heritages.”

  “Wait, there was an option where she wasn't at risk of turning into a wolf bunny gir… woman?” Oz felt annoyed for her. If that was a threat, why not help her out.

  “I was told the rules had changed. I went there yesterday, but a professor named Rathbone overheard me talking to myself and explained there are some new rules about equality?”

  “That utter c—! Hmph.” Oxley adjusted himself, his fury poorly hidden behind a mask of professionalism.

  “Firstly, Rathbone isn’t a professor. He’s a ‘concerned citizen’ and part of the board.” Oxley used the same tone of voice to describe Rathbone and his board as the residents of Greywater used for taxmen.

  “They make ‘suggestions’ about how we should conduct ourselves, which we mostly ignore. He certainly shouldn’t be involving himself in the day to day decisions of Noxarcer. I will be sorting this. Come to main reception tomorrow at nine, we’ll get you sorted.”

  Angeline drew herself up, taking a deep, centring breath that reached from her toes to the tips of her ears. She looked like she was about to cry. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate it, I had all these plans and it’s really not pleasant having to always maintain a mana-lock on my lunar mana.”

  “Lunar mana?” Oz asked, at the Other’s prompting.

  “It’s a bit complicated. My father’s side carries a recessive Lunar Rabbit Beastkin lineage, usually dormant, but in my case, it activated during my first mana cycle. And given my mother’s a full-blooded werewolf, the combination has created some unfortunate synergies. If I lose conscious control of my mana, like during fainting or trauma, my body releases the lunar mana as a panic response and the wolf side takes over. It’s less than ideal.”

  “An unfortunate situation. That should’ve been fixed. On behalf of the staff of Noxarcer I apologise. This shouldn’t have happened. It is our fault you were put in this situation,” Oxley said kindly. “I think it best if we get you back to your rooms, if you're certain you're alright, Miss Goodweather.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. The healing factor’s been documented in at least three prior transformations, though I’ll need to be careful for the rest of the day, plus I really don’t want to walk through campus like this. I live nearby in the special dorms.”

  “That's where I was trying to go! I keep getting lost,” Oz grumbled.

  “Yes, well, about that.” Oxley looked embarrassed.