One of my favorite books to write was my Bloodling Serial, told from the point of view of a bloodling — a rare shifter born in wolf rather than human form. After growing up four-legged, Wolfie finds it hard to fit into two-legger society…and his antics always surprised me even as I typed them out.

Here’s a brief excerpt from near the beginning of Wolfie’s story:

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If pee falls in the forest, and no one’s there…should I care?

Chase and I clearly fell on opposing sides of this philosophical conundrum, as evidenced by how quickly my milk brother shifted into human form and donned a scowl upon smelling the intruder’s scent mark.

I, on the other hand, was more interested in teasing out exactly who had come to call rather than in getting offended at the trespass. Lone male werewolf, halfway to adulthood and skulking around the edges of our territory, reported my sensitive lupine nose. And, for a moment, I considered going out of my way to track the outpack shifter down, feeding him a meal if nothing else before letting him continue on his way.

Or maybe I should give the kid a clue that most alphas wouldn’t be as long-suffering as I am when they catch a strange male sniffing after their girls? Because that’s what the outpack shifter had been looking for—unmated females. I could smell the lust and yearning in his urine deposit.

Okay, sure, so every teenage boy has his mind in the gutter. But most at least possessed an iota of self-preservation that would prevent them from marking across an alpha’s own peed-upon cairns. The trespasser might as well have included his phone number and “Call me for a good time” while he was at it—I’d definitely recognize the kid next time I saw him in person.

My father or brother would have been seeing red right about this time, but I instead found the situation increasingly hilarious as I followed the stranger’s minuscule stream of urine from mark to mark. Some over-zealous wolf pup thinking he could challenge my boundaries? I could tell from his scent that the invader was barely old enough to shift, probably a gangling fifteen year old whose human face was covered with acne and who still stumbled over his own lupine feet. The kid would be lucky if he didn’t drizzle urine all over himself while trying to figure out how to lift a leg and direct the stream.

I huffed out a canine laugh at the mental image, but my companion Chase just scowled. “You can’t really let him get away with that,” my milk brother chastened me quietly, laying one hand upon my lupine ears and shaking me none too gently. Chase wasn’t an alpha, which meant that he didn’t actually care about whose dick was the longest, but he still spent an inordinate amount of time looking out for my dignity. Good thing too since someone had to do it…and that person certainly wasn’t going to be me.

On the other hand, while I preferred patrolling our boundaries in lupine form, this conversation was getting too complicated for ear flicks and whines. So I lunged upwards, hands forming out of paws and snout receding in the time it took to turn back legs into…well, just legs.

“Let him get away with what?” I asked my best friend, still grinning at the cheeky bastard who had passed by here only a few hours earlier. “Get away with urinating on a few stones in the woods? I think I’ll survive the threat to my manhood.”