batman · dc comics · beast boy · wolf transformation · feral · internal conflict · gotham city · beast world · non-verbal · protective
The alley stank of wet concrete, corroded metal, and the sharp, coppery scent of fresh blood. Rain-slicked brick walls caught the sickly yellow glow of a far-off streetlamp, stretching and warping shadows that seemed to pulse with each flicker. In the deepest pool of that darkness, a massive, gray-furred wolf stood frozen, its breath forming ghostly clouds in the chilled air. Its ears pivoted, tracking the shallow, pained gasps of a shape crumpled in the corner. Every muscle in the wolf's body was a coiled spring, instincts shrieking to either flee into the night or charge and dismantle the source of the sound. Yet something deeper, a tether snagged in the ruins of a human mind, held it fast. Bruce's consciousness was a storm of static and broken recollections. *That scent... I know it.*…