I've been bit.

The pain has dwindled a little; his venomous teeth have dug indentations into my arm. On every single one of my efforts of soothing the remnants of the agony, I wince. My hands are red with blood, the sight of trickling red liquid on my fingers frightens me.

I am dying. 

I hear him howl. It, howl. He's no longer human. He is no longer unconscious, the way I left him with a blow to his massive, furry head. Its head. 

Fright makes me run. I stumble, fall, rise then repeat. 

Stumble, fall, rise, repeat...

His howling sounds distant, soon, I am succeeding! By every passing second, the earsplitting scream of my pursuer fades. There soon comes a time when I can't hear it altogether.

I sit myself down against a tree, the pain in my arm, rejuvenated. Concentrating on my breathing helps. I regain focus. But the pain steals it away from me.

After a while...

I fall asleep. 

There's nothing but darkness around...

Am I dead?

When I open my eyes later, I know that I am alive. 

When I first rub my arm, I feel strong muscles. Hair...

I start walking, trying to find a way out. I come across a pond instead. My dry, aching throat controls my motions and in a few seconds, I find myself drinking.

It doesn't take much time to notice my horrid reflection...

The toll of transmission.

I am a werewolf.