The moon cast its light over the trees and the silvery rays filtered down through the branches like fingers reaching through the darkness looking for something to grasp. The night was silent as he stalked through the forest. It was if the world stood still and was holding its breath until he passed.
His body was sleek and lithe allowing him to pad silently, only the occasional rustle of branches warned of his approach. He was a predator feared by all that hid in the darkness of the night. Draco Malfoy, the white wolf. The prince of night.
He had always known that this was the form he was meant to take when he started brewing the Animagus potion. When he was visited in his dreams by a white wolf, he knew they were connected. As soon as he laid eyes on the powerful creature he knew that it was a part of him. He knew it was going to be his escape, his chance to take back some control in his life.
It had been a long and arduous process to become an Animagus, one that had almost killed him. The first time he had changed it had been the most painful. All the bones in his body broke and reformed and as his blood boiled in his veins he thought he was going to die. But the pain was also beautiful; every crack of bone was another step closer to embracing what he really was and the pain was another form of escape, it almost didn’t last long enough.
The snap of a branch ahead made him freeze, and crouch low into the cold ground. This was the only time when he embraced dirt and blood, relishing in every feeling. He lifted his mouth exposing his long dangerously sharp teeth, in a terrifying imitation of a smile. He knew the last thing they would see would be his eyes, grey like steel, like iron, like wisps of cloud at twilight, as grey as shackles, and filled with the coldness like a stab of ice. They showed no kindness in the shadows of the night, only the hints of danger like that of a gathering storm. A soft growl was the only noise he made before he leapt.