I just read your article on how you wrote 'Wolfy Things' after listening to the podcast of course--a fascinating read to be sure.
In many ways, process is as or more fascinating than the finished product--so much is left on the cutting room floor. I found the use of the vernacular--Appalachian English--particularly impressive and wonderful to both hear and read. How people structure language and then use that structure to define their world is one of the fun parts of world-building and it's clear you had a blast with it.
It helped set the scene and tone of the work--as well as allowing the word 'wolf' multiple interpretations as the story progressed. Pacing was bang on in this story. At first, I considered the idea that they could just be vanilla wolves--what child doesn't dream of killing some threatening animal--dragon or wolf or fill in the blank--to prove himself/herself a hero? Rural communities generally have more close-contact with apex predators than other environments, so maybe this is a right of passage, I thought to myself. By the midpoint, when it's clear the wolves are human shaped (talking, not being overtly hostile, generally amused by the protagonist rather than threatened), I considered that wolf might be a term for bandit or a social undesirable rather than a literal term--afterall, anyone who's been called a fox or a bull in a china shop knows names aren't necessarily literal. But it's that end piece, where the wolf admits to Nicky that the magic that made wolves wolves isn't as strong as it used to be, that allows everything to fall into place. All of the definitions of 'wolf' are true in a way--and then Nicky continues in his tragic, Oedipal (Well, half Oedipean--parricidal? patricidal?) course for a fantastic ending.