The alchemist, Alara, has been traveling for days, just itching for a bit of peace and quiet. Of course, that’s when she runs into a werewolf—not just any werewolf, mind you. This guy is covered in patches of mangy fur, his tail twitching nervously under the weight of his comically oversized hat. It's so big, it keeps slipping over his eyes like he’s trying to hide from the entire world... or maybe just himself.
Alara, being the pragmatic alchemist she is, takes one look at him and sighs. “You have... mange, don’t you?”
The werewolf glares at her, grumbling. “No, I don’t. It’s... seasonal shedding. I’m just... transitioning.” His voice sounds as gruff as you’d expect from a creature who’s been trying to hide a balding problem for weeks. "And this hat isn’t... it’s not too big."
Alara raises an eyebrow. "Sure. Just like the mood of a vampire on a sunny day. Can’t imagine it’s comfortable under there.”
So, Alara, leans back, adjusting her leather satchel with a dramatic sigh. "Alright, let’s get this over with," she mutters. "If you’re going to keep wearing that ridiculous thing, I might as well help."
The werewolf eyes her, then gives a sniff, shifting awkwardly under the oversized hat. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Alara says, digging through her bag, pulling out a masonjar of sparkling, lavender-colored liquid, "you’re not fooling anyone with this 'seasonal shedding' nonsense,... or that hat. I’ve seen mange before. You’ve got it, buddy."
The werewolf flinches like he’s been caught red-handed, tugging the hat lower. "I don’t need help."
"Sure you don’t," she says, her voice dripping with dry amusement. "But your... dignity needs all the help it can get."
He growls softly, but not in the menacing way you’d expect. More like... a tired, embarrassed growl. "I... didn’t ask for this. You know, not every werewolf is born with a perfect coat."
"Clearly," Alara shoots back, "Some of you get the ‘unfortunate genetic lottery.’"
The werewolf huffs, shifting a little in discomfort. "You're really gonna make fun of me when I’m already—"
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"Yes." Alara interrupts, grinning slyly. "Because if you were any more dramatic about your bald patches, I’d have to give you a mirror."
He freezes, then slowly mutters, "You wouldn't..."
She smirks. "Try me."
The awkwardness hangs in the air for a moment, before the werewolf finally drops his shoulders, defeated. "Fine. Help me. But the hat stays."
Alara rolls her eyes, clearly trying not to laugh. "Suit yourself.”
Alara, still holding that jar of lavender potion, raises an eyebrow. "Alright, big guy," she starts, her tone suddenly all business. "Let’s fix your mangy mess before you start shedding in the middle of my very limited space."
The werewolf looks at her, the very picture of reluctant hope, like he knows the treatment is coming but doesn’t want to believe it will actually work. "What’s in the jar, anyway? Some... magical werewolf shampoo?"
She snorts. "No, not shampoo. That’d be too easy. This is a tincture made from the essence of basilisk tail hair, mixed with a bit of phoenix feather dust. Helps with the shedding and promotes regrowth—safely, of course."
The werewolf eyes her with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. "Phoenix feathers? That doesn’t sound... real."
"Oh, it’s real. I just don’t usually advertise that part of the process," she says, unscrewing the lid and pouring a few drops into her hand. The liquid sparkles like stardust, glowing faintly under the pale moonlight. "Now hold still. If you start howling and running around, I’m going to assume you’ve got more issues than just hair loss."
The werewolf narrows his eyes at her. "I’m not gonna howl."
"Sure, you won’t." Alara takes a deep breath, her hand hovering above his fur, as though she’s about to perform a delicate operation. With one swift motion, she rubs the liquid into his coat, starting at the spots where the fur is thinnest.
At first, nothing happens. He gives a half-hearted shrug. "See? Told you it wouldn’t work."
Alara is unfazed, because she’s seen this a thousand times. Then, slowly, the potion begins to shimmer and take effect. The thin patches of fur start to fill in, sprouting tiny, shiny hairs as the werewolf’s coat regenerates before their eyes.
For a moment, there’s pure silence. Then—
"Well... I’ll be damned," the werewolf mutters, looking himself over. His fur has thickened, and even the mangiest spots now look significantly better. His ears twitch in disbelief. "I... didn’t think that would actually... work."
Alara, barely hiding a smirk, shrugs nonchalantly. "I mean, I did tell you. But you were too busy being dramatic about your baldness."
The werewolf glares at her, but there’s no malice in it. Just a hint of embarrassment. "You’re lucky you didn’t make me howl at you."
"Yeah, sure," she says, grinning. "But you’re still wearing that ridiculous hat."
He sighs, tapping the brim of the hat in a half-hearted gesture of defiance. "It’s not that ridiculous."
"Right. Sure. Just... maybe lose the hat when the mating season comes around.”