At you.
Here’s a short, evocative draft based on the title (which translates from Portuguese to “Wolf Girl with You” or “Werewolf Girl with You” ).
“That I’ll bite.”
But when the sun bleeds out and the moon climbs raw and white over the city, she changes.
That’s the wolf in her. Not the rage. The devotion. Garota Lobo Com Voce
“Aren’t you scared?” she asks once, stopping under a broken streetlamp.
You wouldn’t notice her at first. In the supermarket, she’s the shy one reaching for the darkest coffee. In the library, she’s the silhouette tucked behind the mythology section, fingers tracing the spines of old bestiaries. At you
You think about it. Her teeth aren’t sharp — not yet. But her loyalty is. She would tear through anyone who hurt you. She would track you across three states by scent alone. She would wait, patient as winter, outside your door if you asked her to leave.
Not into a monster. Into truth .
When you’re together after midnight, her eyes catch the streetlight like amber. Her laugh gets a little rougher, lower in the throat. She walks ahead of you on the sidewalk, barefoot, her shadow stretching long and feral. You notice the silver ring on her finger, the one shaped like a howling snout.
I’ve written it as a lyrical prose-poem / flash fiction piece. Garota Loba Com Você That’s the wolf in her