Chapter 1

A story from the dawn of the XXX Mutant era, before Homo Sapiens really appreciated its replacement had arrived.

Teenagers!

Perra's mother no longer understood what motivated her daughter. They just didn't seem to speak the same language any more.

Skula, regal matriarch and ultra-sensitive to societal mores, did not like the young man her daughter was showing such an interest in. He had been working for the Lukos family for a couple of years now and Skula was adamant her daughter was NOT going to get involved with the "help".

It just wasn't done!

Perra of course saw things differently.

Where the older generation and, indeed to be completely honest, her siblings saw the world only in terms of black and white, Perra had found an inexpressible joy in a world filled with colour -- warm reds and oranges; cool relaxing blues and greens; vibrant hues in an apparently infinite range of shades.

It was Damien who provided this refreshing access to the world outside the stifling confines of her home. Actually he was the only access she had.

In fact it was not an exaggeration to say that, without his influence, she would not be the person she was.

Damien had been employed to care for the animals in a private zoo, an expensive foible of an eccentric businessman who could afford the macho thrill of being able to tell of his collection of carnivores. Damien had yet to see him do more than occasionally walk past or over the enclosures with a few others in tow.

He didn't know how his boss had managed to get some of the rarer specimens -- virtually all carnivores were threatened if not actually endangered -- and he certainly had assembled a divers collection.

Damien's favourites were the canine types -- the coyotes, wolves, dingoes, jackals and foxes (though he could take or leave the hyenas) -- and some of the ursine specimens -- bears from Canada, Russia, China and Indo-china.

He had mixed feelings about the assortment of felines; he had never been a cat person and the beauty of their smooth powerful musculature couldn't make up for their tendency to snarl whenever he went near.

He was professional enough not to let that affect the treatment he afforded the tigers, lynxes, leopards, cougars, cheetahs, jaguars and slightly moth-eaten lions.

But ... he didn't talk to them, he didn't make friends with any of them, they didn't respond eagerly when he came round unless it was feeding time.

It was the way that he treated the animals that attracted Perra (she didn't care much for the cats either -- their enclosures stunk!). Or more to the point the fact that he spoke to her with the same easygoing friendliness that no-one else ever used.

The other servants on the estate would barely acknowledge her. Perra thought they were too afraid of her parents to get close enough to make friends; she couldn't blame them -- she was afraid of them as well, or rather of the way they always seemed to find fault with her lately.

Whenever she could join him Perra listened carefully as Damien explained what he was doing. He probably shouldn't have encouraged her but she was eager to be with him and, making sure his boss never found out, he didn't mind her wandering around helping him.

It should have occurred to him that she was forming an attachment to him -- he was the only person she really spent time with after all. He certainly didn't think of the consequences if it should continue, nor if, as was inevitable, they were discovered together.

Perra was inconsolable. Damien hadn't been sacked, instead he had been given an opportunity to resign. Oh, he got adequate severance pay and even more than adequate references under the circumstances but his wishes, and Perra's, were not considered.

He was gone! The presence she had known all her life, her mentor, her only friend -- Gone!

All her life? A couple of years? Not unreasonable since a wolf grows much faster than a human.

But Perra wasn't just a wolf.

The mutations that were affecting humans had not left the rest of the animal kingdom untouched though the differences in brain structure meant the effects were less significant -- generally.

Perra wasn't the only animal to become more intelligent but that wasn't enough in most cases. For many, the distraction of higher thought processes tended to cause them either to make dangerous forays or to pause when they should be taking evasive action. It was a case of curiosity killing the smart cat and the early bird catching the contemplative worm.

A child needs their language centres stimulated in the right way at the right time if they are to develop the ability to use speech. No matter how intelligent the animal, if it is surrounded only by literally dumb companions it will never reach that extra level.

Perra fortunately had a talkative Damien around throughout that time and could eventually clearly understand him; she tried her hardest to answer with a throat not designed for the subtleties of human speech. The attempt, though unsuccessful and misinterpreted by the keeper, built the appropriate -- and necessary -- neural pathways.

It messed up her relationships with the other wolves though. Perra could still converse with them, messages even more complex in their own special way, but when she tried to use human concepts she only confused them; a confusion that turned to the special hostility reserved for one who betrayed their heritage.

Perra didn't know why Damien had been replaced. She simply knew that his duties were being performed by someone else -- someone who would not acknowledge her let alone release her so she could keep him company as he worked.

Perra found herself restricted to the area by the gate of the wolf enclosure -- a sculptured sunken area the size of several large suburban house blocks with aerial walkways and viewing platforms. She was isolated from her friend on one side of the fence and targeted by her former pack on the other.

At least in the narrow walkway she could limit any hostile attacks to a face-to-face confrontation with one wolf at a time.

It couldn't last though. She would have to leave her shelter to get food or water, or even just to escape the stench of her excrement. They however could take turns watching for a momentary advantage.

Escape! If only. She would be able to search for Damien.

Perra had watched how he opened the gate. She knew she would be able to do it if only she had hands instead of paws. Perhaps she could still manage it. She was irrationally optimistic without ever having seen an episode of Lassie. At least she would be no worse off if she failed.

There were ominous noises from out in the compound. Perhaps she would be worse off. She turned back to the gate in desperation.

The catch was easy enough to reach through the narrow armhole but Perra couldn't quite seize the knob to turn it. The noises became more noticeable. They were understandable at a gut level even though she had never heard them expressed before. They meant trouble.

Perra tried again with increasing desperation. If she didn't get it this time she would have to turn before they came upon her. The attack would be vicious; there would be no acceptance of an exposed belly designating complete surrender -- she was now prey.

Her paw was turning the knob; Perra leaned against the gate so her weight would swing it open as soon as the catch was released; she couldn't risk it slipping shut again -- there wouldn't be another attempt.

The mesh fell away from her and she collapsed onto the path as the spring closure swung the gate shut again, just as her brother crashed snarling into it.

He was confused. He could smell Perra. He could smell the fear scent that had driven him to attack. But the person lying on the concrete was hairless. It was one of THEM regardless of the strong impression of his hated sister.

His tail swept angrily as he turned away. He might not have been "privileged" to have had his intelligence increased like his sister but he knew he would not be able to get through the gate. Regardless of where his sister was, he knew she wasn't here, and that was good enough for now. If she returned they would have their reckoning then; she was no longer part of the pack.

Perra shivered, unaccustomedly cool as she lay on her side. She turned her head to nip her shoulder where she felt the biting insect and realised with a shock that she couldn't reach it and that her normal warm coat of fur was missing.

She stood up; that didn't feel right either, her paws were strange, human appendages on the end of human limbs. It meant her normal four-footed stance left her bare tailless buttocks poised high above her. Her buttocks were different too, far more muscular, designed for an upright stance rather than for quadruped travel.

Perra stood on her hind legs. "No", she thought, "my only legs!"

She looked at her forepaws, the long delicate fingers were a contrast to the normal toes; the fine nails far less useful than her robust claws. But at least she had the opposable thumbs that had allowed her to open the latch when she had needed it.

She had to hold onto the fence to steady herself. She wasn't used to standing this way.

"Oh! What's happened to me?"

Her voice was eerily distorted to her ears. She had said the words; she could understand her own speech though she doubted others would have been able to. Perra had the physical means to make the right noises and a mind that could send the right signals but she hadn't the practise to make them come out clearly -- yet.

Perra realised the question that was most important was not what had happened but what would happen to her.

After easily opening the remaining gates Perra had carefully headed out of the enclosures, keeping to the shadows. She knew the way to what had been Damien's quarters, having travelled that far on her penultimate excursion with him; she held out no hope that he would be there. It had been too long.

Her damned nose wasn't working properly though and her hearing was far less sensitive. She made up for the loss by being extra careful as she snuck along.

The new keeper was out. Provided the animals had been fed, watered and mucked out there was no reason for him not to have his evenings free.

Perra knew she would have to wear the coverings the other humans wore; without her fur she would freeze, perhaps not literally though she did have goose bumps already, and she was sure they would take more notice of her if she was naked.

With the small house located inside one of the most secure estates in the country, there was little by way of additional measures to stop intruders gaining access to Damien's former quarters. Had the new keeper bothered to turn on his alarm system Perra's entry would have been noticed but since he was only visiting with some of the other resident staff he hadn't bothered.

The cupboards and drawers were not dissimilar to the bins Perra had observed Damien opening. The outer clothing was recognisable but she had never seen Damien in other than his white overalls and what she found stowed away made little sense. She searched through the house looking for something she could understand and finally found it in a pile of laundry returned to the house but not yet put away.

It took some time, and a few tears of frustration, and even a curse that Damien would have been embarrassed about had he known that he had taught it to her.

Finally all her limbs were in the appropriate holes and she had managed to close the front. It was fortunate the buttons and press studs had been replaced with Velcro else she would have displayed a most unusual plunging neckline.

In almost every way Perra would pass for a human female in her mid to late teens. True, her short hair and eyes were both unusual colours, and there was just a hint of a hairy tuft behind the merest point at the top of each ear but the first just enhanced her mysterious beauty and the second could easily be overlooked.

But ... whereas any other young lady might be expected to have prominent mounds across her chest, Perra had eight -- all double A, maybe less; though she certainly had no knowledge of breast sizes, she was aware that the lumps were more prominent in her new form. Under the baggy overalls the repeated ripples were disguised; Perra could even pass for a male worker if her face was hidden. Certainly no-one would associate her with a missing she-wolf.

Footwear was more of a problem. Firstly there was nothing small enough for her feet and secondly she had no experience of laces or buckles.

What she did recognise were the black rubber Wellingtons, filth encrusted from the day's earlier cleanup. They would flop around making bipedal movement more difficult for the novice but they would at least protect the soft pads -- No, the soles -- of her feet.

Perra left the house to try and find Damien.

The scent receptors in the human nose cover an insignificant area when compared to those of a hunting animal such as a bloodhound -- or a wolf.

While Perra in human form suffered a drastic loss of ability compared to her lupine state, she still could sense far smaller traces than others born to that shape. It took a while for her to appreciate what she still had rather than regretting her losses but eventually she came across a significant scent of her beloved Damien.

She had been quartering the estate, being missed on three occasions by complacent security staff more interested in the absence of "visitors", welcome or not, outside the grounds than in differentiating between those already inside the gates. Had the senior staff been present matters may have turned out differently.

Damien had been given transport away from the estate, leaving from the servant's entrance of course. Traces of his scent, mingled with a mixture from each of those who had said goodbye, could be found by the drive.

It took a while for Perra to recognise the metallic-rubber-hydrocarbon mix as one of the vehicles people sometimes travelled in. She couldn't scent Damien but the automobile's spoor was much stronger.

Perra followed it down the drive.

Guarded areas tend to be designed with their strengths concentrated in one direction; you are either stopping people from getting in or from leaving. The estate was no different.

At the time all eyes were focussed outwards so Perra was at, and over, the gate before her presence really registered. With no sign of a problem the guards delayed their decision whether to raise an alarm until they were then likely to be criticised for not raising it.

Perra was just following the road down the hillside without attempting to be furtive so the two guards finally decided that their bosses wouldn't want to be disturbed for what was obviously nothing.

"Unless it's logged it didn't happen", suggested one. His co-worker agreed. It hadn't happened!

The recent weather had been fortunate; the scent of the car was traceable to the bottom of the private road but then things got confusing. Still it was obvious that the conglomeration of lights was the likely destination. Perra was still naive enough not to realise the world consisted of more than the estate and the lights; had she realised that Damien could be in some other place, or even how big the "lights" were, she may have just curled up by the side of the road.

It was late and a weeknight and the road she followed passed through quiet residential suburbs where most people were fast asleep.

Perra travelled at a ground-covering lope, neither walking nor running, fit enough that the exercise had not begun to tire her. Her stride incorporated a bouncing motion, discovered to be the best compromise with the heavy pendulum-like boots; their inertia dragged her forward once she had a rhythm established rather than her having to lift them step by solid step.

As she went she lifted her puny nose to sniff the air.

"Not even a decent muzzle and such pathetic fangs", she thought, running her tongue over the blunt enamel. "How can humans spread their jaws wide enough to rip out a decent chunk of flesh?"

There was no trace of the one she sought.

Perra wandered through the chill night. She was happy she had thought to replace her fur with the human clothing; it wasn't sufficient but it was better than nothing would have been.

She found the variety of colours in the lighting nothing short of amazing. The enclosure had been left "au natural" except for tiny night lights along the sides of the paths. On the few occasions Perry could remember them being used their blue-violet glow could barely be seen by the animals below.

Now there was a plethora of multi-coloured neon signs around her, in or over shop windows; there were rows of orange sodium lights and the bright white mercury vapour lamps at the intersections. There were poles and suspended lights that changed colours in a perplexing yet regular manner. For a night "person" there was still plenty to see and Perra kept her head moving from side to side no different from any other tourist who didn't want to miss a thing.

Perra continued to follow the main road though she got no further clues to Damien's whereabouts. Quartering the estate had borne fruit so she was willing to try a similar technique without realising the far larger area and the greater number of confusing scents would make it a far more difficult problem for her weaker senses.

The suburbs eventually changed to the inner city and now she started seeing more people about. None of them were her Damien. Traffic flow increased as well and Perra found herself forced over to the sidewalks in imitation to the other humans.

While that kept her away from the dangerous metal carriages it brought her much closer to another danger that she did not have experience enough to comprehend until it was almost too late.

"Hey babe. Watcha doon out sa late? Lookin' fra part-ee?"

There were three men standing around next to one of the parked cars. She had trouble making sense of both their accents and their words; Damien did not speak like that.

They might know where to find him though.

"Damien. Find Damien."

Her speech was clearer than theirs in many respects but the slowness and limited wordage suggested that she was slightly retarded. Still she was certainly something to look at, regardless of her unusual costume, and the trio figured she might provide a little late night recreation.

"Damien? He's a good friend of ours. Ya want us to take ya t'him? Hop in." The speaker opened the door.

Perra thought a moment before climbing in. She understood their speech better than their intent and it was only when the three men climbed in, one in the front and the other two on either side of her, that she noticed the stink of their sexual anticipation.

Damien had never responded to her interests, if his sense of smell was as poor as hers seemed to be she did not wonder that he would have missed the aromatic cues. She didn't seem to go into heat quite like the rest of her ex-pack. She emitted the pheromones when oestrus was on her but unlike them she could resist the mating urges; contrarily she could have the urges, albeit nowhere near as strong, at other times when her female relatives would have rejected any advances -- not that the males would have been interested then.

These males seemed different. Though SHE knew she wasn't fertile they were responding as though she was. They had taken no action to establish their interest, yet, but their eyes showed they were well aware of her.

"Where you come from?" The man on her left who had not spoken yet asked a question that he didn't really care she answered; it might be nice to know if the young woman was likely to be missed if they decided to keep her for a while but they could find out more later. He would also have liked to have started exploring on the way but knew it would be easier to get her out of the car if she wasn't waking up half the neighbourhood. They could afford a short wait.

"Home." Perra didn't really have another name for it.

Once again the men interpreted this as being some institution. Perhaps she worked in the garden and had wandered off. If so she had probably been missing for several hours now. That she was wandering around the streets in the early hours of the morning did not suggest she was sensible enough to ask for help. The situation looked all the better for them.

Al turned into the driveway next to a rundown house in an older suburb, an area poorly maintained in comparison to the leafier avenues she had passed earlier in the evening.

Gabe, the one who had originally opened the door for her, got out and offered her his hand. When she was hesitant, more from a misunderstanding of the gesture, he took her arm, not unduly roughly but with an insistence she found disturbing.

Nick pushed her from behind, ready to cover her mouth if she tried to scream. That was a response she was not familiar with; a snarl would have been more likely.

"Damien is inside." Gabe tried to allay any suspicions while Al hurried to open the door. Perra got out and was "escorted" inside where she was "offered" a seat on the lounge between Gabe and Nick.

"Damien is out right now but we told him you were here. He said to wait for him and that we should have a little party together. 'Kay?"

"Here yago." Al pushed a glass towards her. Her senses found the smell of the harsh spirit acrid and she turned away refusing it.

"Where IS Damien?" she wondered.

"Not thirsty? Perhaps ya like to do other things with good ol' Damien? Howsbout we make ya a bit more comfy?"

Gabe was holding one arm while Nick held the other. Al put down the glass and started to undo the seal that held the front of Perra's overalls in place.