Thank to lilfluff for the prompt.
The shift came with the moon.
It was inexorable, unavoidable, inevitable: if you had the blood, then you shifted. All over the world, in every land, someone would look up at the night sky… and Change.
In Parkwood, where one particular moon-bound had been rather overfriendly a few generations back – the milkman, it turns out – the whole town would, on those nights, simply, quietly, Change. Women, men, children – those few who had not had the blood had found it very uncomfortable and moved out, or, in a few cases, married in and simply learned to work around it.
Neighboring towns had learned to stay clear of Parkwood on those nights, when the moon was new and the sky was dark. It was a strange place to be, when everyone around you was covered with fur and nuzzling against your leg, helping you across the street and washing your car. It was a strange place indeed, when the werewolves Changed.
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