They're there all the time. [He shrugs, and lets the shift happen in reverse: everything recedes, and he's just a seventeen-year-old boy again. A seventeen-year-old who is about as uninterested in bloody as it gets.]

It hurt the first few times, but...[He trails off, shrugs again and jerks his uneven chin at Lark.]

Your way's probably more powerful. And useful - a real wolf can hide a little better than some...freak.