It's working; in fact it's working extremely well. Flynn can feel their adrenaline spiking, the blood in their veins pumping rapidly which fills him with a feral excitement that he doesn't want and that is deeply repulsive to the rational part of him. And then, as if they can sense his reaction in turn, the bully-wolves run from him.

In fact everybody runs and it brings a sudden pang of sadness. Flynn knows it's because they can feel the monster inside and this isn't fun. This isn't who or what he wants to be. But there is no way to change that now. He made his bed and now he has to lie in it and bemoan his bad decisions.

Oh well.

It looks like he at least helped someone in need which makes him feel a little better about himself. Sighing, he lowers his hands, the fangs retracting and shakes his head as he watches the wolves scatter between the trees. Whatever. He's just going to get his books and then he is out of this creepy forest.