He heard Sirius coming before the man entered the room, and lifted his head, one ear twitching with wary interest. He eyed Sirius speculatively, taking in with a sniff and a glance the nervous waver behind the man’s outward self-assurance. Of course he was ready to try – it was what he’d spent never-ending days curled up on pillows waiting for – but his pulse pounded hard at the idea that it was actually time. If Sirius hadn’t managed to master the spell, or if Faelan’s wolf didn’t respond to it, what other hope could he hang on to?
Every day he felt increasingly afraid of never turning back, as his body grew more and more accustomed to a silent life on four feet. He wondered how it would feel to have his real body back, if the wolf would reject it, if inside his resolve was growing weaker as his human body slipped further and further into the past.
What if he wasn’t strong enough to get it back?
In the end, what made him stand up was the knowledge that if he didn’t try, he’d never know, and he always was much better at expecting things than not.