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OPUS

_ Chapter 3: Howl _

"Hey little bro! We are doing as good as we can out here. Its been kind of lonely and I dont really think I will ever get used to this DAD STUFF. Actually really surprised to hear back from you. Thanks for returning my message. I know your busy, but if you were going to be in the area then I thought you might want to stop by. Riley is 7 now and I think she would really like to get to know her uncle. She is finally at "remembering age" lol. Things have been a little rough but Im looking forward to seeing you in a few days. Dont go too hard in LA because Im getting the most out of your trip here and dont want another tired and grumpy kid around the house. Lol. Give me a call when you have time so that I know whats up.

Cheers bro,

-John"

"...and I guess I just wanted to say sorry."

"Mm?"

I looked up from my computer screen. Ian sat on the end of a plastic porch chair, hunched over with his arms folded against his knees. The look he gave me was a partial smile, with a furrowed brow. He was embarrassed still, I figured.

"Sorry, I uh--something caught my attention here," I tried to patch together my train of thought, the email still scrolled halfway down my computer screen.

"It's nothing. I just felt bad about earlier, is all. Not getting into the restaurant."

Dismissively, I waved my hand. "Believe me, you've apologized enough. It's a stupid dress code, and everything worked out."

"Guess I should really, uh, upgrade my wardrobe, so to speak," he said with a nod.

"Sorry, I'm....a little distracted," I admitted. I finally pulled myself away from the screen. The email had just been sent a few minutes ago, so I didn't have to worry about feeling guilty missing it earlier. "So the restaurant wouldn't let you in without a sport coat. Big deal. It's a nothing of a restaurant, masquerading as some sort of ritzy, upper-crust....whatever. We're not even in the city, really."

"I--"

"Ian, it's really not a big deal."

He sighed, chest swelling with the huge inhalation of air. I thought for a moment that the chair would give out under his weight, but it held. It was just a hollow frame, with several criss-crossing straps of clear, flexible plastic to serve as a seat and back. A poolside fold-out chair, essentially. Why the hotel thought that they could put out cheap dollar-store lawnchairs on their balcony was beyond me. I guess it was just another instance of a manager trying to doll up something that wasn't otherwise worth a second-glance.

Of course, the more you tried to hide something, the more apparent it became. Flaws rose to the surface, and the facade bubbled away, sloughing off like a snakeskin.

'What am I talking about again, exactly?'

I shook my head and focused. A sudden change in the breeze sent an aroma of oil and spice into my nose. A bounty of take-out chinese food sat just outside of my personal bubble. Meats of varying size and flavor swam in a slurry, just sort of coagulating in the moist heat of the night. It was an old favorite, chinese food; but it was something I tried to stay away from as I climbed the ladder into my later years.

Ian shuffled, and reached over to the ground near his chair. He pulled a beer bottle from an 8-pack that had been set aside, and cracked open the lid with a nonchalant flick of his thumbnail.

"Believe me, I'm more than happy to park it up here for the night," I affirmed him, my computer behind me on the chair. I had simply decided to park it on the cement floor of my room's balcony.

He smiled, a wolf in the sheep's guise of an awkward, somewhat-insecure dude. I followed his gaze as he looked beyond the barred barrier of the balcony, out across the urban sprawl and towards the Chicago skyline. The Willis Tower stood stark against citrus-colored clouds, its uneven roof giving me the impression of a carton of cigarettes shy of being full.

I looked Ian up and down as he seemed to lose himself in the view. His hair was shorter, trimmed and styled a bit. I assumed that he had gotten a haircut in his free hours today. Aside from that, he didn't look much different than usual. In fact, he still wore the same outfit that I had met him in the night prior; I had only now realized that he likely didn't _own_any other clothes. It had been a point of contention with the hostess at a restaurant down the street, where I had intended to buy him dinner in order to thank him for a solid first interview.

"It's weird. I think I sort of wanted to..._impress_you?" He said. It was almost a question, as if he didn't fully understand.

"Hmm. Why's that, do you think?" I cast the line.

"Not sure. Maybe I like you."

I cocked a brow at this. He shot me a look, and chuckled, before taking a long drink of his beer.

"Chinese food and beer is a quick way to my heart, in that case," I smirked, and reached across the way to guide a bottle into my hand.

"Really? Never would have pegged you as a take-out kinda guy."

"Well, then I'll let you in on a little secret of mine: I'm actually not that tough to impress," I said, wryly. "But, for the record, I tend to keep a hands-off approach when it comes to my uh...muses, we'll say."

Ian nodded. It was a hard expression to read, not honed around peers. His body language, though, was easy to piece together. He took a breath and relaxed, propping one arm on the railing. There was a strain of rubber as he leaned back in the lawn chair, but it held. I was starting to become familiar with his body, and not just in the biblical sense. His gestures, his stance, the way he breathed. It was all easy to read, clearer than most people I had met. Maybe it was due to a solitary lifestyle, no one to keep up impressions for, or maybe it had to do with being a were--

_'Turned,'_I reminded myself.

With being Turned. I was never much for biology, or any of the hard science stuff, but I'd had a dog before. They were easy to read, if you knew what to look for. Maybe it was the same with Turned. Simple, expressive body language was a way to wordlessly communicate in some sort of loose, pack-like structure.

Or maybe it was just all wild conjecture.

"...So, what was with the computer?" He asked, pulling me back to the waking world. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I got an email, from my uh...brother."

"Huh. I didn't know you had a brother. Then again," he took another swig of IPA, "I guess I don't really know you that well, all things considered..."

"We're....not exceptionally close," I admitted. Beer found its way into my mouth too. The bitter, grainy flavor did little to dull the taste of chicken-fried-rice on my tongue. "I don't really mention my family often, not even in interviews."

"Any reason why?"

"So it seems the tables have turned. The interviewer becomes the interviewee," I offered a mock bow to Ian, who smiled back.

"It's only fair," he replied.

"We just...don't see eye-to-eye, on a lot of things," I said. The reasons danced on the tip of my tongue along with the hops. "My mom passed away while I was in school."

Ian nodded. "Yeah, I remembered reading that in a uh, blurb or something, on the back of your book."

"Right. My dad was a total hard-ass, and didn't care much for what I was going to school for," I caught myself. Could only reveal so much. "So after Mom was out of the picture, I didn't exactly feel obligated to keep in touch."

"And your brother?"

"Military," I dutifully supplied the non-answer. "For the last decade or so. He has a daughter, _had_a wife, but she turned out to be really good at finding military men to fuck."

"So she found another?"

"Exactly. This was about a year ago. My brother--John -he's on leave right now, taking care of his daughter. They're both out west, so I _might_have offered to swing by while I'm in L.A."

A chuckle escaped my lips. I drained another third of the bottle, and looked around me. Guess I'd have to pick up all these cartons, at some point. Take my computer back inside, too. Truthfully, I had hoped to get Ian's lips a little looser after he'd had his fill of food. Bang out another few questions, jot some things down. Anything I could get out of him, really. Instead, it seemed I was the one spilling all of my deep, _dark_secrets. The notion made me smirk.

"What?" He asked, inquisitive.

"Nothing. There's not much else to say. Family shit, you know? You get it, you don't seem like you've seen your folks in a while," I met his gaze. There was a shift in his expression, but it was again very difficult to gauge.

"Guess you're right," He said. "Sorry for bringing it up. Family can be...personal, for a lot of people. Bad memories."

"Mmm. Yeah." Maybe I had struck a chord. Noted. "Anyway, you've learned enough about my sorry little life. Guess I'll pack it up out here. Looks like it might rain soon."

"Nah," Ian said. He turned his nose skyward and took a deep breath, chest expanding. His shirt strained at the sheer girth of his frame. "Doesn't smell like it. At least for a while. I think we're good. Oh, unless, you _wanted_to go in. Which would make sense too, now that I think about it."

"Doesn't smell like it, huh?" I repeated. I looked up above, and my eyes were met with the underside of the balcony of the room above us. I took a deep breath, but I couldn't smell much more than stale lo mein. "So how does..._that_work?"

"What do you mean?"

"Smelling things. And like how you tossed your bike around. You've got some sort of....heightened senses, or something? Right?" It had been a question that gnawed at the back of my mind all day.

Ian nodded, and I saw him take another deep breath. He closed his eyes and his nostrils flared for a moment.

"I can tell what you've eaten. Know that the General Tso's was before the chicken-fried-rice, because it doesn't smell as strong. I can tell that's your first beer, but not your first drink. I can..."

"That's..." I started, unnerved.

He paused for a moment, and lowered his gaze. "I can smell your fear. Maybe it's from thinking about your brother, or maybe it's from....me? Probably that. This whole situation."

I didn't know what to say.

So I said nothing, for the time. The clouds rolled above us, churning darkness across the sky as the sun set. I took another sip of beer, and finished the bottle off. It was a strange feeling, that he could filter out what I was thinking, what I was feeling, just based on a smell. It was a gateway that I had never considered, a barrier that generally wasn't broken. A window into my being. What_else_was he capable of?

"Well," I started. "The part about drinking was kind of a cop-out. You've only known me for a day and you've seen how much I put away."

"Heh."

"I'm not worried about my brother. Not really, anyway." It was true. He and I maintained a very professional, sterilized long-distance correspondence for most of our adult lives.

"So it's me," Ian stated.

"I'll get used to it," I nodded. "Everything's just...weird."

He tried to smile. I watched his body shift again. There wasn't much to go by, but he seemed relaxed. It was only natural for me to be a little wary. I reminded myself of how easily this monster of a man could tear me apart if he wanted to. The interviews were harmless enough, but it would be tricky to tread spending so much time with one another if I wanted the book to go through. I liked him, and I was pretty sure he liked me.

_'But that's not the way to write a damn book,'_came the auto-response from my brain. Analytically, I knew that I had to keep my distance if I wanted to craft this story into what it should be.

"Well, I--"

"Tell me more," I interjected, cutting him off. "The strength, the uh...the smells? How does all of this work? What are the, er, parameters?"

"I...hmm. It's not something I really have to think about very often. It's been so natural after all these years," he said. His eyes drifted to the view of the cityscape once again.

I nodded. Then, not so subtly, I hopped backwards into the chair and placed my computer in my lap. It stirred back to life, screen flashing from black to a pale light from a word document.

"It has been a while," I agreed. "That incident with you and Hunter. When he bit--_turned_you, I guess. How old were you? Like...sixteen?"

"Seventeen. Early birthday," Ian said.

"And it was...."

"'94," he said, finishing my thought.

I waved him a thank-you, and quickly typed a few things into my document. It was continued loosely off of my pruned draft of the previous interview session. I caught a glimpse of the previous page, the tale ending with Hunter plunging his fangs into a young Ian's neck. I'd probably turn the fangs into something else.

"So you should be....thirty-nine right now. Forty-ish," I said, mulling over the math. "Gotta say, hope I look as good as you in ten years."

He smiled. I suppose Ian realized that he was being roped into an unintentional second session of questions. Hopefully he'd be cooperative.

"Heh. We uh, the Turned, we physically age a little slower. At least, that's what people tell me."

"People, huh? Like...?"

"Getting ahead of ourselves, I think," he said with a chuckle. He clenched and unclenched a fist; a nervous tic, maybe. He then motioned to grab a beer, maybe to give his jitters some occupying motion. "So yeah, I guess I'm forty. Shit."

"Don't really keep track of things like this, I'm guessing?"

"Not really, no," Ian admitted. There was some of that familiar sadness in his voice. It pained me a little to be the cause, but I also knew it meant that I was acquiring some valuable information. "It's tough. On the road and all. And I spent a huge chunk of time just not really...thinking about stuff like that. You'd be surprised how easy it is to forget yourself when you don't see a calendar for a year."

"Mm," I affirmed my listening.

"But I guess physically I'm just shy of thirty. Maybe. I never understood it, really. I knew Turned that were almost a hundred years old..." He tapped a finger from his empty hand to his brow. "Thought it was maybe half-aging, but...could be more. Or maybe the longer you're Turned, the less it catches up with you."

"So, what, like some kind of exponential slowing of your age?" I offered.

"Maybe. Even though that sounds kind of dumb."

"_That's_what sounds so unbelievable to you?" I balked.

Ian laughed again. Perfect. Another sip of beer. "I guess I'm just not good with numbers."

"All good," I said. "So, back to the topic at hand. How did you manage to figure out all of this Turned stuff? On your own? Did uh, Hunter walk you through it...? Or...?"

"A mixed bag of that, yeah. Hunter coached me a lot during my first few cycles. Sometimes I had to figure stuff out on my own, and then when I met more Turned, they were able to give me information, too."

"Cycles?"

"Moon phases, I guess. We just called 'em cycles," he said. "It works, because a lot of the 'added perks', I guess, come and go with the moon."

"What do you mean?"

"This is all so weird to be talking about," Ian said, shaking his head. I could see his other hand bouncing nervously about in his lap, fingers twitching.

"Yeah, tell me about it," I added with a smirk.

"My senses dull and sharpen with the Moon," he said. "I've never fully understood WHAT exactly the wolf part of me is, exactly. But, see, whatever it is, it gets more aggressive the closer a full moon approaches. My senses dial up, I get stronger, that sort of stuff. I tend to get more aggressive, too, if I don't check myself."

"_That_part I understand," I quipped, and kept typing.

"...Right," Ian's gaze sank. "I'm not sure if I ever really apologized to you for that. For, uh, manhandling you, I guess. It's hard to control myself when I get so close to the full moon. The Turned side of me lashes out, and sort of goes on autopilot for a lot of things. Food, sex, fighting..."

"Your basic primal needs."

"Yeah." He agreed. "So..."

"Apology accepted, if that helps," I said, as our gazes met again. Smiles were exchanged. "Things probably could have gone better last night, but they also could have gone MUCH worse, I've realized."

There was a grim nod from Ian. "Mm. I, uh, really wanted to bite you. Turn you. In the heat of the moment, of course."

"You..." I vaguely remembered his face close to mine, teeth on my skin. A sharp prick on my neck. Without thinking, I realized that I was rubbing the afflicted area. "Did you...?"

"No!" He exclaimed. "No. I realized what was happening, and backed off. Maybe there was a small cut, but...it takes something more than that."

"But it's always a bite?" I ventured.

"At least from what I've seen," he affirmed. "My saliva, your blood. That's basically how it works. I like to think of it as a sort of venom, I guess."

My fingers danced on the keyboard, clicks drowned out by most of the ambient urban noise.

"There's something else at work too," Ian said, thoughtfully. "I've never been able to explain it, but you need a reason. Intent is important when Turning someone. A will to turn them can ease the process, and ensure it gets passed on. It's--"

"...Desire?" I ventured.

"Yeah. Sounds about right," he nodded.

"Well, glad to know I won't be joining you on a romp through the woods in about a month, then," I said sardonically.

"Me too," Ian said, in seeming earnestness. "Turning someone is a huge responsibility. Usually a disaster. Doing that...never again. Those thoughts are behind me. But even still, it can just...slip."

"Have you ever...?"

He nodded. Wordlessly, he took another sip of his drink and sighed. If only it were possible to purge your mind of bad memories just like that. Push them out of you like a bad fever. I'm sure we both knew better than that.

"Then, yeah, I'm glad I didn't break your current track record," I said.

"Mm. It's a nightmare. I wouldn't wish it on anyone else."

The two of us sat in silence for what was probably a few minutes. It could have only been a few seconds, but I was focused on writing. My fingers pounded on the laptop, and I shifted my weight to attempt a more relaxed position. It made typing slower, but it was better for the back. I stewed in my words, running over the potential questions. What could I ask next? Or were we done? My gaze slowly went from my screen to behind it. Ian seemed to be fussing with his beard. He plucked an errant hair. It seemed so hilariously mundane.

"So then why did Hunter do it to you? Did _he_regard it as a nightmare? Something to avoid and escape?"

"No," Ian sighed. "He...I don't know why he did it to me. I think because he truly was in love with me. And maybe I loved him, in a way."

"I see."

"But ultimately, it was selfish. I've been through so much, and I just _know_that if...if it wasn't for him, things would have been different. I could have had a real life."

"So then, tell me about it. What happened between you two? What was...what was your first _cycle_like?"

"Heh. Alright, Chuck. Looks like you're getting another interview," He stood up, beer still in his hand, and began pacing about the balcony. "Like I said, I remembered waking up. I didn't remember anything, at least at first."

~~

I was running.

A cold wind. It cut through me, worked its way through my thin clothes and into my core. No matter how much I ran, how hard I pumped my legs, I was still cold. Wait...legs?

A realization. I didn't have my brace on. But I was still slow. Shadows whipped at me, lashing out from the darkness. I recognized them as tree branches. Huge, gnarled claws with jagged leaves. Like sandpaper. I kept running, and they grabbed and slashed at me.

A moon. It loomed overhead. Mostly blocked out by the trees, but I could see it for a split second if I squinted and looked above me. It was big. Huge. A massive, ghostly pearl in the sky. I felt like it could fall down and crash into me at any moment. Crush me.

A howl. Right, I was being chased. And I was slow. It gained, whatever it was. I didn't know what I was running from, I just knew that I had to escape it. The desire to escape, to run and not look back. It screamed at me from within my skull, pounding out and funneling through my mouth. An actual scream. A howl.

Now I was chasing. I was gliding through the shadows, a phantom. Hands and feet tore through the soft earth as I traveled, an unstoppable force of nature. I could smell the foul stink of fear. A preemptive metallic musk of blood. I was excited. Lustful. Chasing prey. Slower than me, weaker than me. I could do whatever I wished to its pathetic husk of a body.

I narrowed the gap. My prey was fighting against the environment, while I worked with it. My eyes could see clearly, varying shades of blue and green. I could smell the prey no matter where it turned or tried to hide. I could outrun the prey, overpower it. I could see it now, running. Arms flailing wildly. I pounced.

I landed on the prey's back. It crumpled beneath me, and my strong claws pushed it into the ground as we slid. My hips bucked, and I humped at its posterior, completely dominating the prey. Giddy with bloodlust and the fever of arousal. I bent my head down, and sunk my teeth into its exposed neck.

I...

"...Fuck!"

I woke up.

I choked, and took a deep breath. My chest ached, and my throat was dry. It felt as if I hadn't taken a lungful of air for years. I could only think of something sinking into my neck, and I sloppily slapped my hand to my shoulder, beneath my hoodie, and tried to grope around for the puncture marks.

Nothing. Not even any dried blood, that I could make out. There was a twinge of pain, and it felt a little tender, but...I was fine.

I blinked, and looked around, jerking my head at a wildly obtuse angle. It was dark, but there was a faint gleam of the setting sun through my window. I was in my room, wrapped up in blankets on my bed. I felt unbearably hot all of a sudden, so I threw the covers off of me and jostled myself out of the makeshift coffin. I sat upright in my bed, and then grunted in pain. My bad leg was feeling pretty sore. I guess from walking on it all day?

"Wait, no, I didn't go to school today," I said quietly to myself. My voice still worked.

Right. I had skipped school to go to the specialist doctor's office. X-rays, physical therapy, a few tests like that. No wonder my leg was feeling so sore. There was also the fact that they gave me some drugs to ease the pain and make things go more smooth. It could definitely explain the weird dream, the disorientation, and the dry mouth. Choking and night terrors--side effects that I would rather live without.

It didn't explain everything, though. I blushed, and stared down at my crotch. My dick was throbbing and hard, embarrassingly so. It had snaked up out from underneath my waistband, and was now pointing accusingly at my face.

"I...alright."

I had planned on getting out of bed and going to scrounge up whatever was leftover from dinner, but I guess that could wait. I leaned back down in the bed, and glanced over to the door to make sure there weren't telltale steps in the hall. Wouldn't want someone barging in.

A moan escaped my lips as I quickly went to work on my dick. It was weird, there was a bit of residue down there. I tried to pay it no mention; maybe it was just the end result of that absolute mind-fuck of a dream I was having. Chasing myself down as some sort of creature of the night, biting into my own neck, grinding against my own--

"Not...gonna think about that_while I'm doing _this," I gently instructed myself.

Instead, my mind half-drifted to another dream that I must have had. Hunter and I in the woods. Talking. Yelling. Maybe arguing, it was hard to tell. Even though parts of the dream still felt so vivid, even more were a haze. The harder I tried to remember, to grab hold of it, the more the memories seemed to slip through my fingertips.

A tingle of pleasure jolted through my entire memory as one particular dream scene stood out. I could still almost sense Hunter's lips on mine. He removed his shirt, revealing a muscular torso. And then, pants off. Both of our pants. I was pressed down to the ground, and he straddled me. A union of our bodies. Brief, but powerful. So fucking powerful.

A warm splatter onto my stomach and thighs. I huffed, and immediately felt the afterburn of ejaculation. Clammy nausea worked its way into my gut. Those were some weird fantasies that I was indulging. If I didn't know any better, it may have meant that I was...

"Nevermind," I whispered to myself, shaking my head. Shaking out the lewd fantasies of my ex-best friend.

I awkwardly made it over to a dresser, grabbed a tissue, and began to clean myself off. There was little dignity to the post-masturbatory wipe-up. I crumpled up the soggy tissue, disposed of it, and then waited a few minutes to collect my thoughts before heading out down the hall to the living room. I could hear a light murmur of chatter, and figured my parents were watching t.v., likely with Morgan in tow. The faint smell of food teased at me from beyond the door. A familiar scent of green beans, and an even more alluring odor of roasted meat. My mouth watered. I had forgotten how hungry I was in the fervor of, well, my "me time."

Dinner was exactly how I had sensed it. Green bean casserole, a personal favorite, and what remained of a platter of pot roast. I didn't say much to my parents, who were watching what appeared to be some sort of crime show (or just a poorly-put together actual news report).

"Have a good nap, dear?" My mom asked me, turning her attention away from both the television and a crocheting project in her lap.

"Uh, yeah. I guess so. I didn't mean to sleep so long. Guess I was out of it," I responded, loading up a spare plate with the rest of the roast.

"Did you go right to bed after I dropped you off this afternoon?"

"I guess so. Honestly, I don't really remember."

"Well, alright," she said, seemingly satisfied. "Aren't you going to have some green bean casserole? I know it's your favorite."

I looked down at my plate, which was now almost overflowing with the remainder of the pot roast. My stomach gurgled in furious hunger. I guess I hadn't noticed my apparent abandonment of a dietary staple. Happily, I scooped out a spoonful of the creamy casserole, and then hunkered down at the table to get to work.

The meat tasted good, almost too good in fact. I reminded myself to ask my mom what she did differently this time. I had a medium interest in cooking, and often spent free time before dinner helping her prep stuff or making breakfast on the weekends. Mom was a great home cook, but this seemed almost unreal.

Or maybe I was just insanely hungry. I had to remind myself that I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and even that was sparse.

Nonetheless, I continued wolfing it down. My mind went blank, and I could only focus on the taste and textures of meat in my mouth. Eventually, without realizing, I was scraping at the plate. A few curious eyes turned to me, mostly from my Mom and sister. I coughed, and focused. Maybe I was still sort of out of it.

As the attention was drawn off of me, I turned my attention to the tepid casserole that now stood on my plate. For whatever reason, it didn't seem particularly appetizing. Too pungent, too green. Nevertheless, I was still hungry, and forced it down.

"Thanks for dinner, mom," I said, scooping the leavings into the garbage and putting the dish away. "I think I'm just going to go hang out in my room. Get ready for school tomorrow. Catch up on stuff."

"Alright, hun. Are you even tired, though? You just slept all day..."

"He'll be fine, Lara," My dad interjected, peering away from a book in his lap.

I excused myself, and retreated to my room. After shutting the door, and locking it, I paced around my quarters for a minute or two before realizing something: my leg didn't hurt as bad. I mean, it was still a little sore. And itchy. But for the most part, the sharp jolts of pain that always accompanied movement near by ankle and up my shin, they were gone. At least for now. Maybe it had been dulled by my trip to the doctor's office, but...

"No. They said twelve more weeks," I didn't want to get my hopes up, and verbally resigned myself to the plastic shackle.

...But, that didn't mean I couldn't remove it. At least just for one night. It was so damn itchy, and I was unable to work a finger or some sort of creatively-placed device down past the padding. It would just annoy me all night, and I wouldn't be able to sleep. Not that I was particularly short-changed on that front, but still.

I meticulously began disassembling the brace, feeling underneath the shin-guard for a certain clip and prying it out of its holster. The whole thing was held together mostly at the ankle and joint, but I had to loosen it first or else risk some serious clamping.

As I worked, I noticed some some sweat dripping down my brow and into my eyes. A shiver crawled down my spine, and all of a sudden a bubbling nausea started eating at my gut. I took a deep breath, and just focused on the brace. I wasn't sure where this was all coming from. And why_now_? Was it dinner? Did I eat something bad? No one warned me about any of the food, and they had all eaten earlier, presumably. Was it just lingering side-effects from the doctor's visit?

I didn't know, but I focused on the task at hand: my brace was mostly dismantled. I unscrewed a few of the plastic bolts and stacked them meticulously in a little pile at the foot of my bed. Losing one of these things would be a nightmare--I had already burned through several spares that the doctor had given me. But I had been doing this several times a week for almost six months now, and stripping the brace off of my leg was second-nature. Like tying my shoes.

My leg was free, and another wave of nausea hit me. I coughed, but resisted the urge to vomit, at least for the time being. Instead, I looked down to my foot. Everything was swollen, but color seemed to be returning to my skin. What used to be a mosaic of black and blued bruises and bulges was now returning to a pale pink. There were still lines on my foot from the brace, and scarring from a surgery or two, but in _my_opinion, things looked fine.

_'Still tender, though,'_I realized.

I got to my feet, staggered for a moment, and then made a mad dash across the hallway to the bathroom. I'd have to tell Mom to give it a rest on the casseroles for a while.

~~

I heaved. My stomach went into a knot, and I craned my neck over the rim of the toilet, gripping onto the structure's neck for support as my legs turned to jelly. A stream of vomit poured into the water, and I closed my eyes in a grimace. It tasted like rotten metal. I coughed and sputtered, brave enough to squint a single eye open. A pool of red was beneath me, and I spat a semisolid chunk of what looked like bone into the mess.

But I felt a lot better.

It had been coming in waves, whatever stomach bug that I'd caught. Must have been something I picked up at the doctor's office last week. Explained the fitful nights of sleep, heavy naps, and now bouts of severe nausea and vomiting. Needless to say, I should have been a wreck.

That was the strange thing, though. I felt great. I was paler, maybe, but it was hard to tell after a summer of being mostly indoors. There were bags under my eyes, but also a new layer of scruff around my face that sort of evened out the gaunt look. My leg had been feeling a lot better too, and I was almost tempted to say that I could walk without the full brace now. Maybe just wrap it for a full day of school. My parents had already shot down that idea, though.

I stood up and dusted myself off,. I felt grimy, having to be so close to the floor in a public high school rest room. Who knows what happened here. Hiking my backpack onto my shoulder, I exited the stall and made my way to the sink to clean up. Thankfully, it was in the middle of class, so I didn't have to worry about anyone bearing witness to my horrible upheaval.

I washed my hands, and gave myself a quick scan in the mirror. There was a strange blemish on my neck; I pulled down my collar to inspect it. Just a few red bumps that were evenly-spaced around in a sort of circle-shape. Must have been a really bad bug bite. I put it out of my mind and met my own gaze in the mirror.

My face was grim, but aside from that, I thought I looked good. Fit. My exercise routine was paying off in dividends. A few times a week, I would stay for a little while after school and use the weight room. The school gym was mostly free dibs, so long as you timed your workout to end before the football team did their circuits. It was usually my priority to avoid guys like that at all cost, but recently, I didn't mind as much if our work-outs overlapped. I liked watching them, for pointers and some sort of sick entertainment. And maybe for...

"...No, nevermind," I said to myself, and shook my hands dry.

If these weird purges continued, I decided that I should probably make moves to tell a doctor about it. For all I knew, I was slowly regurgitating my vital organs bit by bit every day. I definitely felt better after it happened, though! With a push, I flung open the door and tried to leave my thoughts behind. Check into the real world.

It was close enough to the next period that I could probably forget about going back to the class that I had to cut out of. Instead, I'd preemptively head to my next one. It was on the second floor, and stairs were still kind of a huge hassle with my leg, even factoring in that it didn't hurt as badly today. I was half-tempted to take the elevator, but that was like flipping a coin. Heads, I'd be upstairs in a few rickety, bleak moments; tails, the lift mechanism would give out, and I'd be loudly pulverized before English class.

So I resigned myself to the stairs, and clunked up to the second floor with no more annoyance than usual. It was tough being in this stupid boot. Would I really be able to stay sane for another few months? The prospect loomed over me like a dark storm cloud. As I summited the final step, the bell rang. Immediately, I saw doors fly open and my peers skitter out into the hallway.

I was going to meet Meredith and walk to our final class together, which had sort of become a daily ritual. We tried to travel through the school together whenever we could. I supposed she just had a sort of thing for pathetic guys in comically large leg braces. In a few moments, I spotted Munny's familiar head of primped curls.

"Ian!" She squealed, pushing through the crowd. "'Scuse me, 'scuse me. Urgh! Ex-CUSE me!"

"Heeeeeey Meredith," I greeted back.

"Hun, what's_wrong_? You look like death himself!" She tsk'd and gave me a quick profiling before crossing her arms in defiance of my health.

"What? Nothing! Wow, way to just come out of the gates spitting fire."

"Hmm. Well, I'm sorry sugar, you're right. You just look a little green around the gills, so to speak."

We started automatically shuffling down the hall, trying to find a little bit of space in the shifting morass of students.

"Nah, it's cool," I said. She had an eye for that sort of stuff. "Yeah, I've just been feeling really sick lately. Must be something I ate, or something I caught when I was out last week. Dunno."

"Huh. Still, huh?"

"Mm. Comes and goes, I guess. I don't really see what the problem is, s'long as I can hobble over to the bathroom in time," I said with a nod.

"Eww!" Munny crinkled her nose in disgust. "I don't want to hear about y'all's stomach trouble."

"Heh. Sorry."

"I'll bring you some soup," she said with the utmost conviction. "Or some tea. There are certain types of tea that are supposed to be really good for keepin' your meals down. I'll have to ask Nanette about it."

Nanette was Meredith's maid-slash-housekeeper-slash-second mother. For when her_actual_mom wasn't feeling particularly maternal, which I figured was most of the time. She and Nanette were incredibly close, and you could usually count on the maid's down-to-earth remedies and advice.

"...Bring some for Hunter too while I'm at it," she added.

"What was that?" My ears perked up at the mention of my best friend's name.

"Ohhh, well, he's been sick recently too. Always missing class and looking like absolute heck a lot of mornings. Maybe y'all got the same bug?" She suggested.

"...Maybe," I said.

My thoughts swam. Just hearing Hunter's name triggered something in me, and I wasn't sure what. Suddenly, my face lit up in a flush, and I felt incredibly hot. Images of him swam in my mind; his face, his profile, his strong silhouette. I was momentarily overcome with a feeling of fury and...lust? Blood rushed from my face, to my crotch, and I swayed in an attempt to shift my stance and hide the embarrassment growing beneath my jeans.

"Y-you okay, Ian?" Munny asked.

I half-turned away from her, and regained my composure for a moment. "Yeah. I just..."

"Y'all look like you've seen a ghost," she giggled. "Unless...not feeling sick again, are you?"

I shook my head. "No. No ghosts, no throwing up. Just a weird feeling. Can't explain it, but I guess I'm just a little dazed. Haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Alright," she said, but roved me with a curious eye. "You boys been acting so weird lately. Guess I ain't one to say anything, though! Anyway, we best get to class."

I nodded. We moved down the hall, Munny needing to stop at her locker, which was on this floor. Not a lot was exchanged between us; I think that she was suspicious of me for something. For what, I don't know, because not even _I_knew what I was trying to hide. Which meant I was awesome at keeping secrets, I guess. Still, I couldn't help but pick up the feeling that she was nervous. About me, maybe? It was almost a scent, pouring off of her. A sour anxiety that rolled off of her body and spoke on her behalf.

"Do you want me to carry anything for you?"

"...Huh?" I stared, dumbfounded, at Munny's forehead. We were now standing in front of her open locker, I realized.

"Got some mashed potatoes in yer ears, hun? I was asking if you wanted me to carry anything for you. We got so many books to take into Carrington's class."

"Oh, uh, nah. I think I'm good."

"Alrighty. Just thought I'd ask. I know it can be tricky walkin' around in your brace." She closed her locker, and we resumed a slower pace down the hall, towards the stairs.

"It's been feeling a lot better lately," I said, giving the leg a shake.

"Yeah? Weren't you tellin' me the other day on the phone that the doc said you'd have to be in it for another few months?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "But...they could be wrong, right? Things change. Maybe it was just a safe guess?"

Munny shrugged. "Mmmhmm. But don't get your hopes all bunched up yet, hun! It was hard enough getting you outta that first funk. I don't want a repeat performance!"

"Oh, well, I'll be sure to keep _you_in mind, then," I said. It was a joke, but my tone was still probably a bit too harsh.

She huffed, and stopped in her tracks. I thought that she was going to retaliate, some sort of comment to put me in my place, and one that I rightfully deserved. I looked down at my feet. Munny took a deep breath, and then started down the hallway. I followed a pace or two behind her, and furrowed my brow as I saw her heading for that old busted-up elevator.

"Dude, Mun--Meredith, what are you doing?"

"Well, we wasted an awful long time chattin'," She said, pointedly pressing the DOWN button. "I don't think it'll hurt us to take a quick trip downstairs. I know how tough the stairs can be with your leg."

"I'll be fine," I said. "It's not worth the trouble of riding that thing. Remember last year, when it stalled on those freshmen?"

My protests seemed to be for nothing. A small _ding_summoned the elevator, and the doors creaked open to reveal the small, cramped car. Beige wallpaper peeled from the corners of the death-box.

"See? It looks like shit!"

"Oh, come _on,_Ian," Munny said. She stepped through the doors, turned around, and waited expectantly, hand on her waist.

"I'll walk downstairs without you," I threatened.

But I didn't. I sighed theatrically, and hobbled in after her. Despite the stern, annoyed look on Munny's face, I saw a small smile creep across her as I filled the space next to her. She pressed the button for the first floor, and I felt the elevator chug to life. The doors creaked, and folded closed. Bars latticed together.

"Sorry, for snapping earlier," I said.

"It's alright, Ian. I know you're stressed out."

We were standing shoulder-to-shoulder. The doors slammed shut and locked. I felt the elevator car vibrate a bit, and had the inclination that we were finally moving downwards.

"That's the thing," I added, "I didn't _think_I was stressed out. I was exercising, taking things a day at a time, and it really FELT like I was gonna be out of this thing soon. And then--I dunno, I'm just all...messed up, I guess."

"Mmhmm. I getcha hun, I do. Just take things a day at a time, like you said. Surround yourself with positive people. Like me! I care about you. So do your parents, and your friends. Well, maybe not that grump Hunter, but--"

_ CRACK. _

Munny screamed. She jumped, and clamped down onto my hand with her own. It took me a second to process everything that was going on. We had stopped, for one. I then felt myself getting pushed to the left side of the elevator. My vision skewed. It seemed like the floor of the car was rising into my sights, but then I actually realized what was going on: we were tilted.

I slammed into the wall of the car, which I could now lay down on, if I wanted to. Munny landed on top of me, and I felt my foot get driven into a wedge in the corner.

"Holy shit!" I yelled.

"What's going on?!" Munny squealed.

Voices were coming from below us. I realized that we were caught between floors, stalled in the damn thing, just like plenty of people before us. The doors to the first floor were open. There was space between the floor of our car and the outside; it was maybe a leg's width, triangle of space. I bent down, but couldn't really see anything due to the awkward choreography of it all.

"It stalled, of course, and we're stuck in here," I said. I was annoyed, and starting to panic a little bit.

"What do we do, Ian?!" She whispered, clutching onto me.

"I-It's fine," I said, trying to reassure her. "We're only stuck. They'll call a maintenance guy, and he can pull us down. Or something."

"How did we even...?"

"Because this thing is old, and shitty," I snapped. "We shouldn't have gotten on it! That's why no one uses it anymore!"

I shrugged off my backpack, and tried to think. It fell to the floor/wall with a thud. I felt sweat on my brow and in my clothes, partially due to nerves, and partially due to the fact that I was suddenly really hot. Trapped, and hot. Did I die? Were we in hell? I chuckled to myself at the thought, and Munny looked at me like I was a maniac.

"OH MY GOD!" "It's burning!" "S-smoke!!" "Are there people in there...?" "Does this mean we get to go home?"

I could hear the buzz of fervent voices from the first floor, but I didn't have the clarity to piece together what they were saying. Something about smoke, and leaving, and--

"IAN! Look...."

I looked up, and saw a wisp of smoke billow out from above us, dripping through cracks in the car. A white-hot panic suddenly gripped me, and I realized the source of the heat: in addition to being stuck, we were also on fire.

"HELP US!" I screamed down through the crack of open air and into the crowd. "GET SOMEONE!!"

"Ian! Ian what do we do? I'm so scared!!"

"We....we..." I didn't know. I tried to think of something. The heat was getting unbearable. It felt like it was pulling at me, choking me around my neck and frothing from within my chest. I felt panicked, and pulled nervously at my collar. "Shit! We can crawl out, right?"

"I-I dunno," Munny said, pressed up against me. She looked down. "It's really narrow. Plus, um, what if...what if the rope snaps, or something? And we get--you know--while trying to crawl though, and..."

I shook my head. "No, that's...it would only crash to the first floor, right?"

"The elevator in our house, um," Munny started, shivering, "It's got space underneath, where all the mechanisms and stuff are."

"This thing's old, it doesn't HAVE mechanisms!" I retorted. A poor attempt to reassure her.

"Then what caught on fire?!" She shot back.

I huffed, not wanting to think about the details of the car, or get wrapped up in this sitcommy bullshit. The voices were getting unbearable, just constant chatter. Unhelpful. It was distracting me, making me mad. And the heat...

"Whatever! I'm gonna try to crawl through, then," I said.

I bent down, craning myself into the wedge of the elevator. My hand made contact with the lip of the opened door, and I used it as leverage to bend down further. The metal was hot on my hand, but far from unbearable. Peering into the open triangle of space, I attempted to fit my head and shoulders through. However, a sudden jolt of panic pushed me back into the car as I felt a metallic shudder all around. The feeling of metal against my head, and the possibility of collapse, caused me to retract my top half. Getting bisected wouldn't get us anywhere.

Munny screamed, and I stumbled back into her. We both reeled into the far corner of the car, causing the box to shift. She gripped me with white knuckles, and in that state of pure panic, I found a moment of zen.

Time seemed to slow down. I felt my heart race, and ice was suddenly pumped through my veins. The searing pain of fear was cooled, and I walked forward. Munny let go of my arm, and curled helplessly in the corner, legs buckled. I couldn't tell if she was even really aware of what was happening right now.

I barely was.

On autopilot, I grabbed the lip of the door with both of my hands. My palms were pressed into hot metal, but I didn't feel any pain. It just registered as hot. I bent down, and heaved. My arms strained. Again, no pain. Just movement. My legs, bent at an angle, were straightened, and I began to push the elevator car down, anchoring myself on the top of the exit door. Plastic cracked and popped at my leg. My brace. Sweat and saliva dripped down my face, and my vision began to narrow into a white tunnel of light. A shifting mass of bodies and heads was all I could see as we came into view. I did it. I forced the car down.

I let go of the blistering metal, and grabbed Meredith's wrist without turning around. I forced us forward, through smoke and chunks of debris, until we both fell forward in a heap at the foot of the elevator.

Not a second later, it crashed down in a smoldering heap, resting half a floor beneath the first floor. The car had caved in on itself, and flames licked at the box that we were imprisoned in. Kids started screaming. I crawled backwards, and dragged Munny with me as she flailed. Away from the fire.

Who knows what would have happened. Would we have died? Probably not. I saw two people rush forward and start hosing down the elevator shaft. The flames died out quickly. No big deal. The car kept crumbling under duress of the water pressure and its weakened frame. I was sitting in the hallway, and Munny was clutching onto my side, her face buried somewhere in my body. I was too numb, and my vision was spinning.

Something wasn't right. I shouldn't have been able to do that. Any of that.

People rushed towards us, and I felt several sets of hands pull me across the floor, away from the wreckage. Another set of helpful hands peeled Munny away from me. The two of us were brought to our feet. I staggered, pushing arms and bodies away from me; Munny embraced anyone who was near, tears streaming out of her eyes. Midst the acrid smell of smoke and metal, I could sense the scent of fear. From her, from those around us, and even from myself. A putrid, sweet smell. Like rotting meat.

My vision blurred, and I leaned forward. I retched, and threw up the contents of my stomach. It wasn't much, truthfully, due to my previous spell, but I saw a stream of red and black bile land on the floor. Chunks of fleshy matter were present. People gasped, and there were concerned voices. I couldn't really understand any of it, for the time being. It was like everyone was speaking a foreign language.

I turned and ran, escaped from the crowd into the nearest restroom. No one stood in my way, and why would they? I was covered in soot and sawdust, vomit dripping from my lower lip. I stumbled through the bathroom, only just now noticing it was the ladies' room.

"Whatever," I mumbled.

I paced, taking deep breaths. I couldn't shake the putrid smell from my nose, so I rubbed it hard against the cuff of my sleeve. My feet were frantic, but my legs were jelly. I hobbled in a circle, and then rested the weight of my body against a sink. I turned to look in the mirror, and saw a reflection haggard with fear. A flicker of realization, and I saw something--my eyes. Sharp and blue, wild, dilated. I blinked, and they returned to normal. Still blue, but not as icy. My vision returned, and I could breathe again.

"Should we go check on him?"

"Where did he go? In here?"

"Who was it? The kid with the brace...?"

"Maybe, I dunno. I didn't really recognize him..."

"Fuck," I cursed.

People were coming, looking for me. I couldn't explain why, but I knew that I had to get out of there. Escape. I was an animal, trapped in a cage. I turned to my right to see the far end of the restroom. A very narrow rectangular window was perched high atop the wall, where it met the ceiling. There was no way. And it might have not even been open.

But I had to. Something strange was going on. There were questions that I couldn't answer right now, didn't want to answer. I just wanted to get out of the fucking school, and have some time to myself. To think, to decompress. To make sure I wasn't actually dead. I pinched myself, and felt nothing. Fuck?

Whatever. I took a sort of running start, and jumped up. One hand grabbed the edge of the windowsill. A jolt of pain shot through my palms; I must have burned them. I hung there, grabbing the narrow inch or so of space. With my other hand, I reached up and unhinged the glass panel. It swung towards me. A second layer of window was revealed, but this was just a screen.

I flailed, kicking my feet wildly, before I found footing on another sink, which ran to meet the wall. With a heft, I kicked myself up, and forward, and I was able to use the leverage to punch through the screen. The panel was old and loose, and the whole frame gave way with a POP.

There were sounds at the door behind me. I didn't have much time, I figured. I craned my neck up to see the opening--it was only about a foot wide, maybe a foot and a half. Would I even be able to squeeze myself through there? Even in my slimmer days, I was hardly agile enough to pull myself up and then wiggle through.

I had no choice. Another rush of some sort of animal adrenaline kicked in, and I scrambled up and forward, all of my limbs working in robotic tandem. My belly scraped against the cement, hoodie sliding up. Skin scratched painfully along the ground as a metal pressure clamped down on my back. But I struggled, and wriggled, and I soon found my torso through, following the lead that my disheveled head set. A few more seconds, and I dragged my legs through. Homefree.

Sort of.

Fire engines were parked all around the school. Thankfully, I had just emerged from the building's backside. I rose to my feet, tried to dust off some of the signs of escape, and then set my sights on the expansive patch of woods behind the high school. As good an escape as any. It would at least let me gather my thoughts, and I knew that if I walked in a straight line, I would eventually come to a neighborhood near Thorneville's Main Street.

Mindlessly I moved towards the backwoods, drawn by some sort of peculiar determination. I steadied my breath, taking big lungfuls of air, and attempted to slow the whirlwind in my head. It worked, sort of. I just focused on walking and breathing; eventually, I felt the crinkle of dried leaves underneath my feet.

Autumn had hit hard this past week, and a layer of discarded leaves had settles over top of last year's detritus. The earthy scent helped me relax, and soon I felt my other senses returning to me. My logical mind started taking over, despite my rather illogical train of thought. Really? The woods? Walking to town? Avoiding everyone at school, and_skipping_school? Distancing myself from Meredith when we were...well, we_were_.

I sat down on a conveniently-placed rock. My pant legs were all torn up, and a screw had popped out of my brace. It would be a hassle to replace; strangely enough though, my leg didn't really hurt. Not at all. I was scratched up on my midsection, and there were some cuts on my wrists. My hands too, were starting to blister up, palms reddened. But my leg, my normally trouble-causing leg, it was fine. I sighed, and buried my face into my palms.

"Shit!" Bad idea. I cringed as my face hit the tender skin, and shot back up.

"You put on quite the show, it seems."

I turned around and fell off the rock, landing on my ass in a pile of crunchy leaves. It was Hunter, my old friend-turned-something-or-another. A cigarette was perched between his lips, the smoke billowing out behind him and back towards the direction that I was heading towards.

"H-Hunter," I stammered.

He looked....different, somehow. I remembered seeing him on the bus every now and then since our last spat, and realizing that he was filling out. Getting more muscular as I seemed to get chubbier. Currently, he was wearing a pair of jeans and a wifebeater, which served to highlight his new physique. Something about it seemed familiar; I felt almost at home admiring his strong torso and arms, the hair that had sprouted on his chin and chest. Some sort of weird deja vu. I also couldn't help but notice that he was barefoot.

"That's all you have to say, huh?" He asked between drags on his cig.

"What do you mean? What...back in the school? It...I'm just ditching class, is all. Like you, apparently. English is lame or whatever." I pushed myself to a standing position, staggering a bit. I faced him head-on, filled with a sense of defiance.

"Perky little pup all of a sudden, ain'tcha?" He said, taunting me with a chuckle.

My arms folded, and I tucked in my stance a bit, almost as if I wasn't paying attention to what my body was doing. I stared at the ground at my feet for a few seconds, breathing heavily. Almost...deferring to him? A moment later, I snapped out of it, and met his eyes. Rebellion was replaced with admiration.

"You really don't remember, do you? Damn, they said that usually happens."

"Remember what?" I replied. "Who said what about me?!"

"Nothing. Don't fucking worry about it. For now," he added the last bit with a smirk.

Hunter threw his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with the bare sole of his foot. I watched him, and my nose was filled with the scent of stifled smoke. The stink of the cigarette was wiped out, and I could only think to the fiery death-trap of an elevator that I had just escaped. People were probably looking for me. The school would be having a conniption, I knew, trying to literally and metaphorically put out the fires.

"I just...had to get out of there," I said. "Just...felt weird."

"Yeah?" He didn't feign boredom well. I could see his eyes roving over me, probing me for some clue as to what was going on.

"Yeah," I repeated, not giving it to him.

_'Feeling weird'_was probably the most generic and unassuming way that I could put it. In reality, my mind was still in a state of frenzy. I was amped up on the juice of pulling Munny and myself free of a burning elevator, and of my subsequent escape from the school and its prying eyes. My mind turned to Munny, and I realized that she was the biggest culprit to my clean getaway. And, as much as I liked her, I knew she had a dangerously loose pair of lips.

"I...I gotta go," I said, and focused on walking past Hunter. Walking _through_him. He refused to budge, so I casually sidestepped.

"Ian," He barked after me. "These next few days. If you're still feelin', uh...weird. Come and find me. I think I can help."

"Uh..." I paused, and looked back at him. Those amber eyes gouged into me. "Th-thanks man."

It was all I could manage. I had to get out of there, and fast. Trek through the woods, catch a bus back to as close to my house as I could, and find Munny. Talk to her about what happened. Convince her that I wanted to stay anonymous in the situation, if at all possible.

"Why though...?" I asked myself, out loud. In the comfort of my own solitude, finally. Hunter's powerful, masculine scent had finally left my scope of awareness.

'His WHAT?' I asked again, but not verbally. It was too fucking weird.

I shook my head, trying to knock the thoughts out of my skull. Right, what exactly was I hiding from? I had possibly just saved Munny's life, and _I_was the one who was now shaking in my boots. There was just a gnawing sensation that something was wrong. With me. Maybe I had done something to get us into that situation in the first place, trapped her in there with me to...what, exactly?

It was flimsy. I didn't know why I wanted to forget it all, pretend it didn't happen. I just DID. Something was there, a lump of a thought in the back of my mind, but it was too crazy to come to terms with. A fuzzy memory, a half-remembered dream that told me what was happening.

"Fuck," I sighed. There was that scent again. Fear. I seemed to be drowning in it.

~~

"Heeeey, Munny. Thanks for meeting me out here!"

"Ian, uh...hey."

I waved to her from in front of my driveway. She was walking down the street from her house towards mine, and I decided to just meet her out front. No need to head back to my place where my parents' curious ears might overhear anything.

"Sorry for uh, calling you out like this. I promise it'll be quick."

"It's okay hun," She said, and hustled the last step or two until she was right in front of me.

"I just knew you were eating dinner and all, so--"

"Ian, it's fine. Now speak your piece, darlin'. What's going on? What....what was with earlier today?" Munny looked to the ground, and then up at me. She grabbed her arm, rubbing at some scrape that I couldn't see underneath her sweater.

"I uh. Right.That. The elevator. See, I uh...I'm not really sure what happened today."

"You hulked-out in the knick of time is what," she said quickly. "Saved us both from who knows. Could have got really hurt. But you...pulled that entire elevator car down. Got me outta there."

"It was, uh..."

"Really brave!"

"Really dumb!" I corrected her. "Munny, I...I'm glad you're okay. I really am. But what I did was dumb. I could have hurt both of us really bad, and...I don't even know how I did it! Just a rush of adrenaline or something."

"Doesn't matter how you did it," she said quietly. "Everyone's been askin' me about it, and I tell them--"

"What did you tell them?!" I pressed, nearly yelling.

"I--Ian, jeez! Nothing! I didn't tell 'em anything except I got pulled out of there by a friend!" She huffed, backing away and crossing her arms. "Hun, I could tell something was wrong when you lost your lunch and then bolted outta there faster 'n a pig in a blanket!"

"I, uh..."

"I don't know what's goin' on with you! Maybe it was some sorta divine intervention or somethin', and...and you were _meant_to save me! A miracle, like in church. I dunno what to believe, hun, but believe me that I knew YOU weren't okay with it!!"

"Munny...Meredith! Thanks. I uh, don't know what to say."

"Start with an apology, ya big dinkle!"

"Right! Heh. Sorry. I wish I could tell you more, be more up-front about this with you, but..."

"Ian! Just tell me when you're ready, alright?" She grabbed one of my hands in both of hers, and looked up into my eyes. She felt my palms, the crust of a healing burn. "Your hands! You did get hurt today, and it was...'cuz of me."

"It's nothing!" I said. "Just a few scratches. It's...healing pretty quickly, actually. Don't worry about it!"

"Mm. Well, that's good. You're gonna tell me when you have this all figured out, right? Not gonna forget about it?"

"I...yeah, I'll-I'll try."

"Well, whatever hun. I know that _I'll_never forget about it. You mighta saved my life today. And maybe one day I'll repay the favor!"

"Okay. Yeah. I'll take you up on that!"

"And so whenever y'all figure it out...come tell me. Promise!" Suddenly, she bent forward, and gave me a quick peck. Our lips touched, and I instinctively panicked.

I didn't know how to react; it was sudden, and my mind was racing with everything other than getting a kiss from one of my oldest friends. I stumbled, and pulled back. I smiled, but I don't think it was the reaction that she was looking for.

"I...gotta go back home. Dinner's on," she said, turning and walking a few steps.

"Alright. I uh...thanks."

"Don't mention it, sugar," she said. "By the way, I have a feeling school might be closed tomorrow. While they get things all figured out. Maybe we can uh...hang out, or somethin'?"

"That sounds...good," I replied dumbly.

She nodded and then set off for home. Night was already setting in. A part of me thought that I should walk Munny home, be a gentleman despite her insistence that it wasn't that far and was totally safe, but...I couldn't.

My leg felt fine, it's just that I didn't. A storm cloud had set in over me, and I couldn't get out from under its shadow. I needed to talk to someone. Not Munny, not my parents, someone else.

I needed Hunter.

I looked longingly down the road, opposite the direction that Munny had retreated. Hunter's dim, gravelly driveway sat there. A cool wind bit at me, and I decided that was sign enough. I'd pack it in and head back home, eat some dinner and just hide away for the night.

The warmth of the house welcomed me back in. I picked up a couple of familiar scents; food, my mom's perfume, and the slight odor of the old abode. It just had that sort of rustic, worn-down smell sometimes, especially during these wetter months.

My mom pulled a chicken out of the oven and doled out some mashed potatoes on each plate. I sat down to eat, but remained quiet. Poking at the potatoes with my fork, and eagerly wolfing down the roast, I just tried to avoid everything relating to the incident at school. It was hard to backpedal out of the conversation. Naturally, my parents were interested, and insisted that I tell them anything that I knew about it. Was Meredith hurt? Was anyone else involved? Typical shit like that.

Thankfully, I had caught a bus home before any of them had gotten back today, or else I was sure I'd be a prime suspect. I finished the most appetizing parts of dinner with as little conversation as possible, and then excused myself. Retreating into my room seemed to be the norm for me nowadays, but I guess I was allowed to be an angsty teen every now and then, right?

I escaped into my room, locked the door, and hunkered down. With a heavy sigh, I shucked my pants and shirt, suddenly feeling extremely hot. Uncomfortably so. It seemed to come from within me, broiling out from my chest. Stifled, I opened my window. It was pretty chilly out, but I didn't care. It felt great, and I just laid down on my back, trying to forget about the cosmic weirdness of the day.

"What's been going on with my life lately, man," I mused. "Things are weird. I'm not feeling like myself. Glad that I helped Munny, but...damn."

I held my hand in front of my face. It itched like crazy, I guess healing over whatever burn I had received while prying us free from the elevator. A layer of flesh was knitting together over the red scars, and several bumps had appeared. Maybe five or so, all arranged around the wound. Curiously, I held out my other palm, which had also gotten singed, and noticed a similar pattern.

"Is that just how biology works? Weird."

No need worrying about it. It was healing fine, despite the irritation. Must have been a really small burn, to start peeling over only a few hours after getting it, but I wasn't about to complain. I reached onto my floor and probed around for something--a Gameboy, perfect. No need to lay around like a moody idiot while I could get lost in a pocket-sized Zelda game.

I flicked it on, but despite the distraction, my thoughts raced. Getting into this snafu with Munny in tow, and then she tried kissing me. No--she DID kiss me. If you would have asked me a few weeks ago what I thought about it, I'd probably be down. Munny was one of my closest friends. She was pretty. We got along. Above all else, she seemed to genuinely _like_me and dealt with all of my shit. I should have been thrilled.

...But I wasn't. The more I thought about it, the stranger it felt. Maybe it was just one of those things, you know? We were too close to be anything more than friends. Or was this was just how it progressed when you wanted to date your best friend? Things were awkward at first, but eventually they got better, and you were in love? I didn't know. Maybe I should try kissing Hunter or something, to see if that worked.

I laughed, audibly. A cackle at the ridiculous notion. But, and it was slowly growing more obvious to me, a part of me was okay with the idea. Welcomed it in fact, kissing Hunter. Running my hands over him. Pushing his long blond hair back and staring into those amber eyes.

"Fuck," I spat. Distracted, I ran out of hearts in Zelda. Now Link would never get off that damn island.

The game was shelved again, and I just rested, motionlessly. My thoughts were a storm, and my body was sore all over. Heavy weights had been set all over my frame, and I just wanted to sleep it all away, weather whatever this hardcore hebrew guilt was.

...So I did. I awoke with a start, a good number of hours later. It was dark. I didn't hear the telltale footsteps of parental activity. The wind beat rhythmically against the house, and whirled through my open window. I shivered, and found blankets wrapped around me like a nest. My teeth chattered, and I moved to shut the window.

My sleep cycle was going to be all out of wack now; I had been having so many restless nights and fever dreams lately. Maybe I was coming down with something. Actually getting sick. My eyes strained through the darkness, and I grabbed the open window, feeling around for the nook that would let me force it down. But I saw something outside. As I pulled the window up, I smelled something, too. A raw, musky scent that I could now place as sweat. Excitement, perhaps. Another odor too, this one just the acrid burn of cigarettes.

"Hunter," I mumbled.

I saw his body shift. It was definitely him, standing at the edge of my yard near the path that lead deeper into the woods behind our houses. I tensed, my breath held in my throat. Was I expecting him here? I should be concerned that he was loitering around my house at--I looked at the clock near my window--just past midnight. It felt like I had been expecting him, though. I paced around my room, then huffed in annoyance. I began blindly grabbing a change of clothes from the floor. A hoodie was lying across the carpet, near my dresser, and I was able to slip on a pair of shorts that were at the foot of my bed.

My footsteps were as quiet as I could make them. I gingerly took the stairs and pried open the sliding glass door that lead out to the backyard, but not before slipping on the nearest pair of shoes. They were my dad's sneakers, and were a few sizes too large, but I supposed it didn't matter. I didn't risk turning on a light in the house, but I could see just fine--maybe it was the moon. It was a clear night out, and the moonlight was crawling through the windows and bathing the yard in a pearly glow.

I pulled the door open a crack and slid through, tucking in my gut and stepping softly with my brace onto the patio. From there, it was just a few yards until I hooked up with Hunter, who had barely moved an inch. I saw the soft glow of an ember off of the end of his cigarette.

"So smoking's your thing now?" I whispered accusingly.

"Heh. Not really. Just thought I'd try it out." He replied, as if we weren't even in this strange situation.

"What are you_doing_here?" It hissed from my mouth.

"Wanted to check up on you."

That surprised me a bit, to say the least. "Why? What happened to the aloof I-don't-give-a-shit-about-anyone Hunter that's been all the rage now?"

"Heh," he chuckled.

I suddenly realized that we had been slowly heading into the woods. Hunter would take a step, and I would follow suit. It became a bit colder, and the trees now obscured my view of the nearly-full moon. Now I understood.

"Why are you leading me down here?" I asked. 'And why am I weirdly compelled to follow him?'

"Best not to get overheard."

"Why? What would you have to _talk_to _me_about?" I demanded.

"Yeah, you really don't remember, do you?" He took a final puff of the cigarette and then tossed the butt behind him. It smoldered for a moment, but then a thin wisp of smoke told me that it had gone out, smothered against the wet ground.

"Remember WHAT? You were going on about this earlier today too, after the....the thing."

"Fuck," He said. "Why does this have to be so hard? All I'm trying to do is...is do this right."

"What do you--"

"Remember this," He growled.

Suddenly, Hunter stepped forward, closing the distance between our bodies in a stride. One of his hands went firmly to the back of my neck, and the other hugged me at a hip. A moment later, his lips were on mine. I gasped, choking in surprise. The taste of cigarette poured into my mouth. I struggled, but he was strong. Our lips locked, and for a moment I felt an energy between us. A connection. Something jogged my memory, a bolt knocked loose in my psyche.

It seemed_familiar_. These woods, kissing Hunter. It...it was wrong. Not something that I wanted, right? I kept struggling against his grip, pushing away. He relented, after another moment, and allowed me to force him back.

"What the fuck?!" I barked.

"Ian..." He whispered, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

"First Munny, now--what the fuck! Has everyone gone crazy?! Am I wearing some weird, brain-scrambling deodorant or something?" I shook my head, trying to shake my thoughts together. My memory was hazy again, obscured by clouds of doubt and hesitation. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, peeling Hunter's saliva from my lips.

"...Munny? What do you mean?" He asked.

"It's nothing. I uh, she...kissed me? Earlier today, after I talked to her about--about what happened. The elevator thing, and uh--"

"Fuck," Hunter sighed. "Of course she gets to you first. Kind of, I guess...Heh."

"First?" I stammered. "I'm not a...thing, dude?"

"Right. Sorry," He said. Remarkably nonchalant. It felt like only a few days ago he had called me a faggot or some other horseshit obscenity.

"So you...uhhhh, like me? _Like-_like me, or whatever?"

"This shit again," Hunter said, growling. He ruffled through his blond hair and spat, suddenly agitated.

I only now just realized that he was shirtless, not wearing much more than a pair of sweatpants, the legs rolled up a cuff or two. A very noticeable pole was tenting his crotch. I looked away, but...

"I'm gonna give it to you straight then, Ian," He said, whirling on me again. "You've _gotta_remember! A few days ago. The motorcycle."

"I uh," My thoughts swam, but something bit the lure. He had baited a clearer memory. "Yeah. You...you helped me. Lifted it off of me, and then we..."

It started hitting me again, the flurry of memories. Some were clear, like Hunter and I walking along the creek, talking about _things--_girls, our lives. Others were fuzzier, like me falling into the water, and then a kiss. A hot feeling. Chasing prey through the woods. Pinning it down.

No. That was a dream. Right?

Hunter, bare-assed, sliding down onto my own cock.

Another dream? Pain. Teeth on my neck, blood flowing out of me like the juice that had flowed out of Hunter's spent rear.

"Hrrrrgh," I groaned, and clutched at my head. It was too painful. The hot feeling returned. Warmth crept up my body, and then burned at my heart, and my head. I needed to lie down, take this sweater off. Something.

I stumbled and fell down. Glass shattered in my head. The searing heat underneath my skin reminded me of the heat of the flames. Prying ourselves free of the elevator. Emptying my stomach onto the floor. Running, and escaping. From what? What was I escaping? A giant beast chased me down, tackled me. Fangs at my neck. Claws ripping at my shirt and the seat of my pants. Burying something into me.

I gasped, choking for air. I must have blacked out, because I didn't remember being on my back, surrounded by the cold tickle of grass and leaves. A stone was unceremoniously jabbing into my back. Hunter was on top of me, straddling me. His weight was on my chest, and he held my arms down into the ground. I tried, flailing, and felt a surge of strength. I was able to lift up, but Hunter grunted and pinned me back down.

"....No," He growled. "Fuck this. You stay down. You get one chance to take a swing at me, shithead. And you...used it up."

"What?" I choked out.

"Snap out of it, Ian!" He commanded.

His words, the authority that he force-fed them to me...I did. My body relaxed, and my arms went limp. Hunter continued to hold me down. I noticed that the tent in his pants was uncomfortably close to my face. He wasn't wearing anything underneath those sweatpants.

"I....fuck. What the fuck?" And then, it happened: tears began leaking out of my eyes. Slowly, but they were there. I felt the warm moisture seep across my face. "What's happening to me?!"

Hunter smirked. He loosened his grip on my arms, but I was still pinned under his weight. More or less at his mercy.

"I bit you," He said, drawing pride from his own words. "You're Turned."

"I'm....what?" I whispered.

Hunter grunted again, and tentatively took a hand off of my arm. I didn't move, suddenly too weak. And curious. He brought the hand towards my face, and turned it over. At first, I didn't understand. My eyes adjusted to the light, to the close proximity of his skin, and then I saw it. Five blemishes arranged in some vague star shape on his palm. They were red, sort of scabbed over.

"I...uh. That's..." I couldn't find my words.

Things were starting to make sense, but I couldn't speak. They were the same markings that had appeared on my own hand. I hadn't noticed them until the last few days; I just thought it was some sort of allergic reaction. Maybe a spider? But instead of a radioactive arachnid's bite, it was all due to...

"You're a werewolf," He said. Suddenly, he jumped off of my body.

I was then acutely aware of my body becoming lighter. Hunter had grabbed me by the scruff of my hoodie and was lifting me up. My feet danced uselessly, but I found solid ground. I reflexively flinched, knowing that the landing would hurt my bad leg. Nothing came. A thunk of plastic, but that was all.

"So am I," He growled.

I barely heard him. I didn't understand. Werewolf? Like...the movies? The shitty b-movie monster flicks? Lon Cheney, that kind of bullshit? I looked at the back of my afflicted hand, and squinted. A beam of moonlight aided in me seeing my own telltale five-pointed breakout.

"Those can't be normal cigarettes you're smoking," I balked.

"You have two days," Hunter instructed, his voice devoid of all humor. "Ian, you've been given an incredible gift. Some might say curse. I don't. It's power, and strength, and unity with mother nature, my friend. I'm going to fucking teach you how to use this. Keep you in line. Keep you safe."

"...What?"

"It'll all make sense. Two days. You come out here that night. _Way_out here," He motioned down, deep into the woods. "Follow my scent. Follow your instincts. I'm your sire--you and I, we're connected now."

"What the fuck," I buried my face into my hands incredulously. "Are you ON about, dude?!"

But as I turned up, untucked my face from my palms, he was gone.

~~

Both of my friends were right. School had been canceled indefinitely--at least until next week. A lot of it was due to Munny's family, or so I had inferred. Her parents were _furious_that something had almost hurt their precious little flower-baby. I couldn't blame them, really, but embroiling the school in a potential lawsuit didn't really seem like the way to go. That was just one idiot's opinion, though.

Still, it was keeping her busy. Not "out of my hair", so to speak, because she was my friend, and I wanted to spend time with her. I just didn't want to deal with whatever _that_was. The kiss. It wasn't a topic that I was really ready to broach, so I was weirdly thankful that Munny's parents had her on a short leash; they had her answer questions and stay out of trouble. Both were likely pressing her to figure out who the other person in the elevator with her was, but so far no one had contacted me. Guess I had slipped through the cracks after all. Or out of a bathroom window.

My parents were getting suspicious, though. Pretty sure my Mom had caught sight of the burns on my palms the other day. They were healing fast, but not THAT fast. Couldn't escape a watchful mom-eye. Thankfully, with the mark on the back of my hand, it was easy to pin down as an allergic reaction. I made up some excuse about poison ivy. Maybe I'd be able to convince myself that's what it was.

Or maybe not.

"...Fuck," I sighed. It had become my catchphrase lately.

I was standing in the woods. It was a Friday night, and here I stood, hunkered down in a thicket, dirt in my shoe, and leaves crunching beneath every minuscule movement that I made. It was cold out, and I could see my breath, but I was sweating underneath my hoodie and sweat pants.

Moments ago I had heard a few voices in the woods, none of them Hunter's. My hearing was sharp right now--maybe the adrenaline or something--but I could just _tell._Likely they were just a few of the kids from down the road, skipping out on family dinner to go smoke in the woods or something. Still, I wanted to remain hidden. For my safety, for not wanting to explain what _I_was doing. Potentially for _their_safety as well.

That's what Hunter had been right about--I was Turned. Whatever that meant, exactly.

Things had gotten weirder. Changes were hitting me hard and fast; shifts to my personality, mood swings and shit, as well as changes to my body. I woke up this morning and had to immediately trim my nails, and find my way around an old electric razor of my dad's. As unbelievable as it was, Hunter was right. My memories had started to straighten themselves at too, or at least some of the were. I remembered a bite.

It was unreal. But it was happening. I could feel a tug within myself, a strong desire to greet the moon with a howl as it broke through the treetops. To seek out Hunter. Even now, I could smell him. It was a distant scent, but it as familiar. It was wolf. A cocktail of sweat, and masculinity. Raw testosterone. The musk of the forest, and of fur. Blood.

No, the blood was somewhere else. A fresh kill off the beaten path. How did I know this? I think my brain was feeding me information, filling in the gaps in my naïve mind. Could I even call it _my_brain? Already, I felt all I could describe as a _presence_within me. It was me, it was Ian, but it also wasn't. A foreign instinct, an alien influence. Senses that weren't mine, but that were being interpreted by my brain. A growing aggression. I wanted to bite, wanted to run.

It was terrifying.

I stood up, and stretched. Hunter's scent was moving, drawing nearer. I had to follow, further into the woods. I felt the padded down dirt that was signature of the familiar path. The winding twists and turns that had become rooted in my mind. I didn't even need to follow my nose, I knew this route so well.

Earlier in the night, I told my parents that I was going to Meredith's house to hang out. Of course she was indisposed, but _they_didn't know that. Then, halfway down the road, I dashed into the woods and doubled-back the direction I'd intended from the start. The direction that would eventually fork into Hunter's scent trail.

"I still can't believe I'm doing this," I said quietly, pushing through some branches and stomping over a sapling. The leaves were falling hard, helped along by a cold wind. I was suddenly glad that I brought a jacket.

Any rational person would have just stayed in their room for the night, or make_normal_plans with _normal_friends. And maybe if my life was a low-budget horror movie, I would have done just that. However, I _knew_something was wrong. These last few weeks....the sickness, the hair, the apparent reconstruction of my leg. Nightmares. It was too much to deny. Hunter bit me. Hunter changed me. _Turned_me, was the word. My growing agitation today, the night of the full moon, was all the confirmation I needed.

As unreal as it was, a lifetime of renting monster movies and reading fantasy novels had been secretly preparing me for this possibility. But not for the_presence_that was snarling in my subconscious, or the growing arousal that I was feeling. Heightened senses and aggression. It was too much, I was getting overloaded.

I broke out into a run, unable to contain the flux of information in my head, or the overflowing energy in my body. My legs pistoned against the ground. I crashed through brush without a care in the world, panting and feeling the exhilaration of not having a brace on. It was a desire that I had dreamed of for so long now--and it was the animal within that allowed me to indulge.

"Hhhhhaaaaahhhh," I grunted. I jumped, and ripped through a final layer of tree branches.

My feet landed squarely on the flat of the bank near a small pond. It was the old hang-out whenever Hunter, Munny, or I would find ourselves down here. More often than not, it was just Hunter and I, usually with my dog going crazy over in the water. Now though, I heard the sound of the small waterfull, the creek beating against the rock, and it was louder than I ever realized. I was able to hear and visualize every lap of water against dirt, every small ripple of a fish breaching the pond's surface.

It was maddening. I held my hands to my head, rubbing my temples and trying to will the sensory area of my brain to quiet down. Almost as in protest, a headache bluntly pounded at my skull from within. I grunted, and staggered, groping with one hand in the darkness to find a place to rest the weight of my body. Instead, I slumped against the hill, and the cold grass nipped at my exposed face and hands.

"I'm glad you came, Ian," Came a deep, barking voice.

Hunter emerged from the trees opposite of the clearing. He coolly stepped into our old stomping grounds, and slid down a muddy hill. His feet landed squarely in the water, but he barely seemed to mind, shrugging it off and walking forward. A smell preceded him, something that I had only sensed small tinges of before. It was like a thick, intoxicating spice. Masculine and raw, like salted meat and earth. My mouth watered, a side-effect. My appetite grew. For what, it was unclear.

"Urgh...didn't feel like I really had a choice in the matter," I grunted, fighting back the searing pain in my skull.

I think Hunter could sense that I was in discomfort. His guard lowered, shoulders slumping a bit. He was wearing hardly more than a tee shirt and a pair of tight athletic shorts. No shoes, which I suppose I had come to expect. He walked towards me, and when he was firmly within my personal bubble, reached down and touched the back of his hand to my head.

"You're burning up," he commented expectantly.

I grunted. Now that I thought about it, I was slowly starting to cook within my hoodie. It was heavy, and even in the crisp autumn night, I was sweating. His hand lingered a moment more, and it...sort of felt nice. Maybe.

"You had a choice," he iterated. Hunter took a step back, and gave me some space. "But you followed your instincts. I think that's the first step in passing the test. Making the night a little more bearable.

I turned to face him. Somehow, I had stopped leaning against the hill and was now ground-level, on my knees. My mind must have been playing tricks on me, or my memory was starting to jumble. Maybe this was why I had so much trouble remembering the last alleged encounter between Hunter and myself.

His yellow eyes were positively glowing in the moonlight, as if he was drawing sustenance from the orb. The light also caused his dirty-blond hair to wave radiantly in the night. It was then I realized how formidable and frightening he was. His face was largely hidden by the darkness, save those eyes. The moonlight crept ever closer, breaking free from the overcast sky. Hunter looked majestic, I realized. A wild animal. A noble beast.

"...No," I whispered. It was a small, quiet reminder to myself.

This wasn't my former friend. This was a monster_wearing his skin. A monster whose true face I had no comprehension of, but knew it was one that I had seen in my nightmares. I had to fight off feelings of admiration, of compassion...of _lust. It seemed as if they were being fed into me from an outside source. The _presence_within me, gnawing at the edge of my consciousness. Ready to crash forth and consume me.

But Hunter, he wasn't being controlled by his worse half. At least, not that I could tell. He had merged with the presence, embraced it, created this..._thing_that stood before me, chest swelled and arms tensed. He was almost more horrible in human form than I could ever imagine him in his beastly ego.

"I...didn't want to come," I mustered. A half-truth.

"But you did," He said, taking a few steps forward. This was his night, and he was in control. I was a humble, cowering servant, it seemed. "And that's all that really maters."

I grunted in response.

"I chose you, Ian. When I decided to pass the gift onto you, to Turn you, it was because I'd seen how weak you had become. A shadow of your former self, ruled by all of this fucking...insecurity, and petty high school bullshit. So I bit you--and you _reject_it! I can feel the conflict within you, smell your fear and your anxiousness," he monologued.

"I didn't ask for this!" I felt the strength within me to fight, even if it was only with words. "Whatever _this_is. I was doing just fine! Who are you to just...to...argh!"

"Ha! But this is so much more delicious," he chuckled. "I can feel you trying to stay human, to feed your weaker mind. But you can only fight it for so long--I feel your wolf trying to break free of its prison. That's what they are, Ian! Prisoners! And then their night comes. Tonight. OUR night!"

"F-fuck you" Was all I could say.

Then, it happened. Moonlight fully breached our grove. I saw beams of light drip through the trees and litter the ground. Immediately, my body seized up. I went rigid, and began panting. All I could do was look up into the sky, through the falling leaves, and stare at the full moon. I was mesmerized. My breath quickened, and my heart raced. I could hear the blood pumping in my ears. What was at first a growing sensation in my mind quickly turned into a frenzied clawing at my subconscious.

"I was right," Hunter gasped. "I knew this would be a thing of greatness!"

I turned to him, my head possessed of its own accord. Hunter's body seemed to be filled with energy, but I couldn't help notice that he started shivering. His meaty chest heaved. As much as Hunter seemed to love being Turned, I knew this was hard for him as well. This change, what we were about to both go through...it was causing him pain, too.

"It...hurts," He hissed, almost reading my mind. "But I've learned...learned to embrace this. The change. The moon. It's been many moons for me now, Ian. Your first one...will be hell. I promise you that!"

His confident frame was wracked with a spasm. I saw him double over, clutching at his stomach. Growling. I felt it, too. My knees gave way, and I felt as if I would fall face-first into the ground. But my arm seemed to reach out and support my weight. I grinned, laughing. It was unreal. I could feel the pain run down my spine and tickle every nerve. Every muscle fiber was electrified. I grimaced, teeth chattering. I saw Hunter stumble back, as if he had been hit in the gut. Moonlight poured over him.

"Hrrrrrnnngggggg," I growled.

I was slipping away. My sense of self was being torn to pieces by the presence within me, and stitched back together as a patch of my new identity. I could only vaguely remember my name. It was like my human mind had been hanging off of a cliff, uselessly groping at the slippery rock. And now, my fingers had finally given out. Rational, human psyche falling into an abyss, repurposed as a new dominance established itself. My eyes closed. Fear ebbed away, and I was no longer scared. I wasn't regretting the change. I was impatient!

_'I want this!!'_I screamed from within.

"RrrrrrrrAAAAAGH!!" A vicious snarl from Hunter's corner of the grove. My eyes roved up to him.

His body was trembling. My former friend was suffering intense muscle spasms, which only increased with the passing moment. The moonlight shone all over him, highlighting every nook and edge of his body. His chest was now straining against his tee-shirt. He was growling, angry and fierce. His teeth had elongated, and blood dripped from his lips. Saliva too, and they mixed together to create a gory, viscous juice. His canine teeth became their namesake, gleaming in the moonlight. Hunter's tongue lolled from his mouth; his snarling became a heavy, rhythmic panting.

I then realized that I was panting too. Scalding heat overcame me, the core of it all in my chest, pouring out of my frantically-beating heart. I wanted to tear my clothes off and feel the cool grass against my itching skin. I couldn't move, though. I was paralyzed. All I could do was look at Hunter as he stood there. This foreign pain, and visceral anticipation. I felt the desperate need to watch Hunter transform. Maybe it was one saving throw from my human mind, to prepare me.

Hunter snarled again, and shook his head. Blond hair was shaken about, and drops of sweat were launched from his face and nape. Perspiration dripped off of him like rainwater. He must have been just as hot as I was, and he was only in a tee-shirt and shorts, while I had a full hoodie. I saw another sign of change, and noticed the hair on his arms. They had always been hairy, but now the follicles seemed much thicker, and they aligned into a pelt. More seemed to be sprouting from his skin in an attempt to fill in any empty space. Hunter pulled his hands to his chest, and began tearing at his shirt with freshly-developed claws.

Seeing Hunter shirtless had never been a particularly notable experience; I was "straight," so what did I care? But now, I cared. His pectorals were well-defined, and hair was sprouting along his tanned chest, a dark chestnut color. Sweaty muscles rippled and churned as I admired his smooth, chiseled abdominals. Not so smooth after another moment, though, as more hair crept in. I wasn't expecting so much muscle to form, but it was like...watching him lift weights for a year, and then playing the results at superspeed. Veins bulged from his arms and pecs, the vascularity even apparent underneath thickening hair. A handsome six-pack carved itself into an adonis-like eight-pack.

"Hrrrrrrrgh," I sighed lustily. One of my own muscles had sprung into action. Maybe it was just my hurrying blood-flow, but I was suddenly painfully erect. My dick strained at my sweatpants. I was so horny that it was causing physical pain, an influx of uncontrollable lust and need.

This was far from over, though. Hunter seemed to regain control of his body through the spasming pain. His eyes roved to me, feral and gold. I met his gaze hungrily, and saw saliva drip from his jaws. I could read him.

'You like what you see, don't you?' The eyes said to me. A voice local to only my mind translated the idea in my head. I grinned, nodding.

Hunter seemed to like it too. Large, beclawed hands rubbed over his abs and chest, kneading at the muscle and fur. He began to pant harder, closing his eyes and seeming to get lost in the moment. The drool flowed out of his mouth and onto his sweaty body over his tight, rippling chest. I noticed his dark nipples through the hair. Was I really this...turned on?

"Arrrrrgggggghhhhh," He growled. Hunter stopped admiring his own physique in time for another change to wrack his body.

My companion stared up into the sky, mouth agape. Teeth gleamed. I could see his nose twitching, expanding, and push out from the rest of his face, bone and flesh following suit as the profile was created. A muzzle, half between that of a canine and a human. The handsome hair on his chin began to grow and fill his face. His ears elongated too. I imagined they would become broad and migrate to the top of his head, but instead they simply grew out and became pointed. Wide and sharp, like two arrowheads. I saw Hunter's long blond mane flow back over his neck as his new wolfen countenance greeted the night.

Time seemed to stop as the wolf-teen let out a long howl. It made chills run down my spine. Not of fear, but of awe. Admiration. Submission to his mighty form, his fresh Turn. Though, maybe that was the sensation of my own change progressing.

When I thought it was all over, Hunter's final stages of Turning manifested. He suddenly bent backwards, muscular torso glowing in the moonlight and flaunting his supreme body. Then he hunched forward, flexing his back and arms in an arch. It was so bizarre. I then realized that his shorts were straining everywhere--and I meant _everywhere._Fabric exploded as his thigh muscles tore free, more hair and sinew.

His human toes thickened into strong, claws paws. It was grotesque, yet beautiful. I watched his flesh and muscle contort in fascination, cocking my head and taking it all in. Hair covered his feet and toes, and I got a glimpse of the soles of his feet, calloused into tough skin.

And then, the event that I had been secretly waiting for: his shorts had all but fallen away, leaving the Turned in a pair of tight, white briefs. His manhood was straining at the seams, so massive and defined. As the undergarments began to rip, I noticed that everything about his body had received some sort of bulk and pump. His penis flopped out of the destroyed underwear and stood erect in front of him. Eight inches of maleness, the color of his bronzed skin. Hunter howled again. God, my own organ was livid at the sight of all this.

Again I thought it was over as he stood there, so proud. Completely overthrowing his comparatively puny human body. The beast did a one-eighty, and I got a view of his defined, furry buttocks. Backbone had extended, wiggling free to resemble a shortened tail. Not fluffy and long, like an actual wolf. More stumpy, monstrous. A side-effect of his human half, perhaps. And then he turned back around to look me in the eyes, lip curling, and:

"You like this, don't you?" He rumbled, baring teeth. The beast could still talk?!

I had to avert my eyes, overcome with submissiveness to the monster that stood in front of me. He kept looking at me, panting. Watching. I wondered why, and then I realized: my change had progressed. I was Turning. Already, my arms had inflated underneath the hoodie sleeves, and I could feel newfound strength.

I wanted to stand up, so I did. I wanted to rip these human clothes off, but I didn't. I never got the chance. As I went for my chest, the sweater tore of its own accord. I felt white hot fire pumping through my veins, and it was only cooled as a thick muscular chest burst forth from my tattered garment. I felt Herculean. I ripped furiously, throwing pieces of fabric about and scraping claws against my skin. Blood dripped from the gashes, but I saw that they almost immediately closed up, the flesh stitching back together. My stomach was revealed. Recently, I had become self-conscious of the weight I had put on while in traction. Now, however, while my stomach seemed to lack the raw definition of Hunter's torso, it was still hard as steel. A bit of a bulge, sure, but I was proud.

I was so overcome with this change that I mimicked Hunter's previous behavior, groping at my muscles. My arms were large and defined, and my chest felt outstanding. Even running hardened palms over my gut, I could still feel contours of muscle. It was like being in love with myself. Then, I had to stop; hair kept growing all over my torso and arms. It was like an iron being pressed over my skin, follicles emerging and organizing into a black pelt.

"AaaAAAAAHHHHH," I groaned.

My neck craned forward as I cried out in pain. My throat felt like it was closing up, overrun by transformation. I couldn't breath. My chest pounded, a heart hungry for oxygen. It was torturous, but all I could do was watch. I saw my nose push out from my face, and the sharp crackle and pop of bones accompanied it. It hurt like all hell, and I desperately needed a breath. Spittle gargled in my mouth, and then, with one final pop, I was staring at a snout.

And it felt WONDERFUL. Air was sharply sucked into my airways, and I could breathe again. And smell. I could smell everything: the detritus beneath my feet, the blood and sweat on my body, the raw stink of sex as Hunter began to stroke his engorged dick...a mystifying buffet of scents that I could never have imagined. My eyesight had transformed too. The images that I was seeing were sharper, tinted with blues and greens. Sensitive to movement, even in the distance. A leaf dancing in the wind. A rabbit quivering in the hole of a tree stump.

I wasn't human anymore, and yet all of me seemed to revel in it. It was like I had never even _been_human, and this was my permanent state of existence. My destiny. The presence in my mind was no longer, it just _was._It was me. I was me. This, was me. It all made sense. God, it felt like ecstasy.

My bottom half began to stir. A furious cock raged inside of my pants. Someone had put me into these baggy human clothes for the hike through the expansive backwoods. They stretched with my growing body, but didn't burst like Hunter's shorts had. I didn't like that, and tore through them with fury. Lacerating my legs was barely a blip on my radar, as the cuts quickly healed over. Boxers were exposed, blue and white stripes. They didn't last long.

When I saw my own dick emerge, every feeling pinpointed to it. At least ten inches of steely manhood, managing to dwarf even Hunter's magnificent cock. Some kind of savory musk filled my nostrils, and I immediately gripped my dick to jack-off. It felt heavenly. Everything that I was experiencing was amplified; the pleasure was almost maddening. But before I could even near release, the formation of my own tail interrupted my "me" time. It wiggled free of my vertebrae with a sharp jolt of pain, sprouting just above my thick glutes.

Finally, I looked back to Hunter's eyes. I could meet them now, his yellow orbs against my ice-blue. We were equals, one with the creature inside of us. We fed off of one another, visually and otherwise. His new scent mixed with mine, and teased at my mind in endless combinations of imagery.

A look in his eyes. It flew to me like electricity, and a mutual instinct overtook us: we howled. A long, baying song. Mouths at the moon, lungs full of cold air, the duet poured through the forest and would surely curdle the blood of any who managed to hear it.

As it ended, I took another huge chestful of air. The breath flowed through my nose and mouth, and the scents danced in my mind. Not just those of Hunter and me, but of the woods and the creatures around us. The light, airy smell of birds. Slightly more pungent for rabbits, and even the cold living metal of the fish beneath the pond. A powerful scent bristled through me, and I recognized it as meat. Pungent, and full of living blood. A large animal. Perhaps a deer, hooves tramping through the forest?

_'No,'_I spoke to myself.

It was man. The mixture of sweat and blood, hair and fabric. Combined with an acrid, burning odor. Chemicals. Several of the men, and in turn several clouds of smoke. My stomach roared. Drool ran from my teeth and onto the ground. I needed to feed, to tear at flesh. None would be sweeter than the skin of man, pried from its unwilling bones.

I was set to run, feet digging into the ground and claws at the ready. My ears twitched, trying to pry the telltale sounds of bipedal movement from my surroundings. As my body tensed, I was suddenly stopped. An ambient odor that had grown much stronger. I averted my eyes from the forest to see Hunter, my wolf companion, on all fours, his back arched. His rear was exposed, a pink hole visible between muscular mounds of fur.

A growl escaped my throat. Not of anger or aggression, but lust. I saw his legs sway rhythmically, his ass almost calling to me. Hunter began stroking his large, very visible erection. He seemed to know that he had my attention.

I loped over to him, clearing the distance in only a few strides. My claws, caked with dirt, left the ground and found a place on his backside, grabbing him around the stomach. The sheer girth of my hands almost fully-enclosed his torso. He growled, and I relaxed my hold ever slightly. I felt my palms slide up, groping at his muscular stomach and one reaching to his chest. I grabbed one of his pectorals and squeezed, then flattened my neck against the curvature of his back. I inhaled his scent. It was powerful, and revealed his vitality. His youth, yet his experience. Greater than mine. The scent told me that he was my creator, my sire. My superior. We were connected. I growled in acceptance.

Hunter stretched, and the cleft of his ass rubbed itself against the head of my monstrous erection. My cock danced in anticipation, and I felt a wetness escape the tip. It greased Hunter's puckered hole, and I felt my hips buck almost involuntarily. My entrance into his asshole was quick and blunt, and I rammed nearly a third of my girth into him without resistance.

We growled in unison, and I felt his hips began to gyrate. His stump of a tail writhed against my stomach as I bent down over him. My hands went to his back, and I pressed down. It was gentle, but firm. The brown wolf obeyed my directive, and I felt him sink lower to the ground. His ass remained at my level, though, and with another quick thrust, I found myself deeper inside of him.

Hot, tight walls squeezed and hugged at my cock. I felt it ripple in tandem, the hole being stretched to accommodate more of the invader. It was tight, but perhaps not too tight as to be unbearably painful for my partner. An idea rooted into my mind that this was not his first time; my sire had been fucked and bred before. He certainly seemed to know his way around my wolf-dick.

I panted hot, heavy breaths. Drool dripped onto Hunter's back, rolling through the fur and sliding down to his neck. I pushed in further, my hips dipping forward and slightly down. A sudden growl from my mate, one of pain and pleasure. I had completely buried myself inside of him. My hairy balls slapped against his equally-hairy ass, and I felt the heat squeeze and tease at my cock from all sides.

Instinct was my driving force, and Hunter's gorgeous ass was its master. My companion took over the directive, and at once began grinding against me, pulling away and pushing back in rhythmic, animal power. His passage rippled around my cock, and several times he very nearly pulled completely away, only to slam backwards and accept the entirety of the dick again. He needed it harder, and faster. I could only oblige, his humble thrall.

I began thrusting in opposition to his movement, driving the hammer further in. Digging and tearing into his hole, and finding my claws run against his flesh. Through knots of hair they ran, creating smooth rivers of blood. The red wetness stained my calloused palms, and Hunter's growls became more desperate. As I saw the scarlet liquid flow, I could also see old cuts close up, healing themselves. Flesh knotting together and the nonexistent scars that replaced them. I lost the flesh in the folds of his chestnut fur, and just continued thrusting. Our back and forth, the dance of power and passion. Wolfen fury, and lust, and desire.

A hard slam found my dick completely engulfed by his hungry ass, and I pushed even harder. Hunter growled, and then roared. His hole quivered around the base of my shaft, and the pungent salt of semen spilled forth from his frontside. He had orgasmed, defeated by my thrusts and my strength. A moment later, I pulled out halfway, and then dove in the full body of my cock. A sharp shock of pleasure issued forth from the center of my member, and I felt it echo in the rest of my body. Through my hips, up my spine, extending to every new hair follicle on my body. My vision flashed with color, and I too reached climax.

Floods of seed were pumped into Hunter's hungry ass, slurped up by his bowels. His walls shuddered, and the flow could not be brooked. It leaked back out, all around my dick, onto my groin and down the back of Hunter's thighs. I reached my head down and bit him playfully on his back, teeth nipping at fur and flesh. The pleasure washed over me in cascades, and I held him tight. I put my full weight onto him, and we crashed down together, me on top. Two matted, sticky brutes engaged in beastly coitus.

What could have been a minute later, I felt Hunter stir beneath me. I breathed a sigh of satisfaction, and lifted up. My softened dick slid out of him, and flopped out, wet with sex. I stretched on all fours, hunched over, and watched Hunter writhe out from under me. Seed still leaked from his exposed hole, but he didn't seem to care, and took to his back feet. Poised, flexing.

What now? The sex felt like an eon, but it was more realistically just a few minutes. I was suddenly thirsty, and found myself lumbering over to the edge of the creek. I loomed over the running water, seeing the reflection of my blue eyes and black fur. I bent forward and slurped water into my mouth. I nearly choked, still clumsy in my new form. The motion of the tongue and of lapping it all up, it was too annoying. I submerged my muzzle in, nose and all, and gulped.

After I finished, I turned to see Hunter on the edge of the forest, pacing about. His body language spoke to me, told me that he was agitated. Our romp had satiated a certain kind of hunger, and managed to dull my aggression, but I was still starving for meat. Surely he was too.

"Follow me," The wolf seemed to say, looking back. "And stay close."

He took off, a swift lunge into the woods.

I followed. My hands and feet were awkward, but I was growing used to moving like this, on all fours. My body was a grotesque medium between bipedal and quadrupedal movement, but it slowly became more mobile. Graceful in its power. The less I thought about it, the smoother I moved. I crashed through trees, and batted branches out of my way. My eyes closed as I plowed through a thicket of thorns. The scratches healed almost instantly, and the slight physical pain gave me a boost. Motivation to run harder, to move faster.

I threw my hands out in front of me, digging fingers and claws into the earth. It was like grabbing the ground and hurling it beneath my body, pushing and pulling myself through the forest. My legs flew forward, and the muscles tensed. They hit the ground in tandem, springing me forward to ground myself with the front claws. I was a machine, a divine force of animalistic power.

Hunter's scent was strong, but I could also follow the sounds of his footsteps. The bent and broken twigs and branches that he left in his wake. I lithely swung my body around a jagged rock, and kept my center of gravity at the core of my body. I rounded a bend, brushed up against several tree trunks, and then caught up with Hunter.

He was standing at the edge of the ridge, nose upturned. I mimicked him, and felt the scents flow through me, into my nose, and dancing in my mind's eye. Peering down into the darkness, I could still make out fine lines of motion against the filtered moonlight. I honed in on one scent, a familiar one, and could almost hear the sound of several human feet rustling through a thick cover of leaves. My lip curled in a snarl. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, and I let another howl rip through the crisp night air.

_"No!"_Hunter barked. He snapped at me, jaws inches from my face.

I huffed, defiant. I wanted to slink through the woods and run the humans into a bottleneck. See them struggle and squirm as I pick them off, one by one. Their bones cracking in my jaw, skin peeled back by my superior claws. Blood. It was of absolute need.

But Hunter refused to back down. He reared back on his legs and barreled his chest. I blinked, and was suddenly on the receiving end of a monstrous swipe of his claw. I yelped, and recoiled. The wound began healing almost immediately, as I'd grown accustomed, but the action itself stung. I was put in my place. Reminded of who it was that made me.

Begrudgingly, I submitted. My stump of a tail curled down and hugged my rear, and I bent my head down to show deference. A few quick, loud breaths from Hunter made it seem as if he was laughing. Another moment, and he lowered himself to all-fours. Pointing his head in another direction, he instructed me to follow.

He ran, and I gave chase. The scent was less pungent, but I would be rewarded in the end. Hooves, antlers. Hair. A herbivore. Prey animal. Powerless to resist. Maybe I could start there, and eventually work up to man. Hunter howled, a fierce call to our lunar guardian that loomed above.

I nodded, and growled. A howl belted from my lungs as well. I realized then, in that moment, that I would follow Hunter to the ends of the earth. We'd look over the edge together, and if need be, if he willed it...I'd jump.

"Let go."

It was all I had to do. Free my mind, release myself of will and want and submit to the power that now governed my body and mind. The same force that ruled Hunter, as well as our fellow Turned. A binding force that tied us all together, the monsters of the night.

~~

I took a deep breath, inhaled the business end of the cigarette, and then puffed out over the balcony into the stagnant night air. It was a no-smoking room, as were most nowadays, but I didn't think anyone would find out. I was being careful.

"Huh? Hnnnngfffgh," It was Ian. I turned back, and saw him abruptly jump out of the lawn chair.

"Sorry, hope I didn't wake you up," I tossed the cigarette butt onto the street below us, several stories down.

"Nah, it's..." He shook his head, and took a deep breath. "It's fine. I smelled the smoke and it made me think of, uh, someone--some_thing_else. Sorry."

I nodded. Ian paced about. I realized how late it was, how long we had been sitting out here in various states of awareness. I had been fervently typing until just a few minutes ago, and my computer was probably right on its last dredges of power. I moved to go gather it up, clattering a few cans and bottles as I carelessly walked across the balcony.

"Shit. Better clean all this up, I guess," I mumbled.

"Here, let me," Ian said, bending down and scooping up a swath of cans in his hands.

"Nah man, it's fine," I said, tucking my laptop under one arm. In the other hand, I held a few bottles between my fingers.

"Door?" Ian gestured.

I nodded, reaching forward with a spare finger and tugging the sliding glass door open. The cold, artificial air of the hotel room was actually welcoming. As clouds rolled in over the city, it was getting more and more stuffy outside. Urban air had a bad habit of just _sticking_to you when it was humid.

Ian trudged over to the trash can and dumped the emptied beer. He bent down to get a few stragglers, and I momentarily caught myself catching a glance of his backside. I shook my head, snapping out of it and set the bottles down. I plugged my computer in and watched it chug out of sleep mode on my desk. The white word document blinded me for a moment, and I quickly began fiddling with a few last-minute words.

"Thanks," I waved to Ian. "For helping clean up, and for...giving me a lot to work with here."

I furrowed my brow and mulled over a few different ways to parse the ending of this session. Werewolves in the woods. Certainly unlike anything I had ever written before.

"I think I'm the one who should really be saying thanks."

"Why's that?" I responded curtly, not looking away from the screen.

"Uhh, well, it's just....It's been good, talking to someone. About this. About me."

I peeled myself away from Word and gave Ian an inquisitive look. I studied him, one of his hands on the counter top, the other shoved into the pocket of his jeans. He was swaying a little; maybe nerves, maybe he had a little too much to drink. It didn't really take supernatural werewolf senses to let me know what was going on. It was a body easy to read.

"Well, you're an interesting guy," I ventured.

"I...yeah," came the response. "I've just been on my own for so long. Avoiding people. Not really talking, just...watching. Looking around and seeing these other humans, their lives playing out. Unaware of what could happen, of...of how good they might have it."

"What are you trying to say?" I frowned.

"I'm not a good guy, Chuck," Ian said. "And I think I might be sweeping you up into this. Into something dangerous, something that you can't handle."

I scoffed. "Can't handle? You don't know what I can handle. I'm not worried."

Maybe it was the confident way that I spoke, or just my desire to quash the melodrama, but Ian nodded. He smiled, and shook his head. Disbelief, or relief, or...some third thing. It was getting late, and my brain was mush.

"It's been a long day," I stated. "Productive, but long."

"Yeah. I should...probably get going."

"Mm," I nodded. But then, a thought. "Do you uh, you have somewhere to stay, Ian?"

"I'll manage," He said.

I watched him for a moment, swiveled in my chair, one leg crossed over a knee. Ian sighed, his shoulders sloping with the breath. He motioned to grab a few things--keys, an ancient wallet that he had left near the kitchen nook, and his motorcycle helmet near the door. I chuckled. We had played it out far enough.

"Just stay here tonight, man," I relented. "It's the least I could do."

Ian stopped, and put his bike helmet back down. I caught a smile from the side of his profile, but he hid it quickly. Probably didn't want to seem _too_expectant.

"Thanks, Chuck," He said. "I'll be out of your hair in the morning."

"Heh. We'll see!" I quickly got out of my chair, and stretched. With one quick motion, the buckle of my pants was undone. They hit the floor, and I stepped out and away from the bunched khaki. "I just gotta groom a bit. Please, uhh...make yourself comfortable?"

I excused myself with a smile and a nod, and made my way towards the bathroom. Slamming the door behind me, I craned myself over the sink and sighed. I felt lighter. The weight that had been slowly crushing down on me today was lifted. My ribs weren't straining, ready to splinter under the force of all that I'd been storing up.

"...It's fucking crazy," I muttered.

And so was I, apparently. I turned on the sink. The sound of running water soothed me a little more, or at least distracted from the pain in my chest. I undid the topmost buttons on my shirt and slumped. I bent down, splashed some cool water on my face, and met my reflection.

The man who stared back at me was changed. I recognized him, but it was like looking further down into the rabbit hole. My eyes were raw. My lips dry. A purplish lump was tender on my forehead from where I had smashed my head in the previous night. I thought back to those pivotal moments, and the storm in my chest stopped whirling about.

'No turning back,' I reminded myself. The man in the mirror met my eyes and nodded at me. 'I've got a good start here. But we need to dig deeper.'

I'd need some rest first. I heard a few shuffles of motion outside of the door. It seemed Ian was following my advice, making himself at home, however he could. Hopefully he could get comfortable.

A yawn escaped my lips. I reached over to the bag on the edge of the sink. Various toiletries. Rummaging through it, I pulled out a small amber vial. Two pills shook out, and I popped them reflexively into my mouth. I missed a dose this morning, and you had to stay regular with these kinds of things. New drugs usually came with all sorts of fun new side-effects. I didn't want to give it more of a chance to bite me in the ass. My throat was stark dry from being smoked out, and talking too much. I cupped water into my hands and took a swig. The pills slid down with the water, and I grimaced.

I'd take a quick minute to brush my teeth, and then I'd probably spent enough time in here. I wet the brush absentmindedly, and dug into my mouth with surprising vigor. Stave off the cheap beer and chinese food. It was wild, really; the thought of doing something so perfectly normal while on the other side of the door, some supernatural drifter was sliding into bed. A rogue werewolf, whose motivation for singling me out I still didn't fully understand.

'Couldn't be all just to write one lousy book, could it?'

I spat, and rinsed. A bit of blood was mixed in with the minty white froth, but it washed away just the same. I dried my lips off with a towel and then turned to leave.

"Ahh, hit the lights!" Ian gruffly chuckled from the other end of the hotel room.

I closed the door behind me, and I was momentarily stunned by how dark the room was. Ian had closed the blinds around the windows and the door to the porch. I saw him shifting in the dimness, over on a small couch near the entryway. He was leaning on his side, a blanket wrapped up to his exposed chest. His eyes seemed to glow a bit, I noticed. Dull blue glints. Maybe it was just a trick of my own vision adjusting. He was smiling, too.

"Sorry," I said. I undid the few remaining buttons and threw my shirt to the floor. Tomorrow's problem.

"Thanks," Ian said again.

"Oh, for the show?" I motioned to my body. I was only wearing a pair of boxer-briefs now. "My pleasure."

"Heh. Not what I meant," Ian said. "Not that I'm complaining, or anything. I just wanted to say thanks again. I uh, really appreciate what you're doing. Here."

"It's really no big deal, Ian. Big room. No sense in not using it."

"Right. I guess I meant, more for the uh....the book thing," he said.

"What about it?"

"It's a big deal," Ian watched me with a serious intent. I ripped off the blankets on one side of the bed and began clumsily shuffling into it. "What we're doing here. I think when the story gets out there, it will...well, I dunno. It'll be rad."

"Rad?" I scoffed. "Might want to update your lingo a bit."

"Heh, whatever! It's a big deal. It'll cause a stir. Maybe not right away, but....when other Turned read it. They'll know. Even if you go in a different route while writing it, I think they'll know. And they'll be willing to talk. And it'll be...well, I guess I don't know exactly. But it's exciting."

"Right. Well, let's not get too far ahead of our project here," I plugged my phone into a charger on the night-stand. "I gotta get something to Susanne, and then we'll go from there. I've learned to not jump ahead too far in the process. You'll just delude yourself into having more than you've created."

"Mm," Ian nodded.

"We've got a good start. I don't want to kill your motivation or anything, so, well, forget I said it. Point is, we've got good material. I just need to see what I can spin it into."

"Right. Well, in any case, just know that this," he gestured between us. "Means a lot to me."

I smiled. It was genuine, and melted a bit of the frost away from earlier. I hadn't felt this way in a long time. Writing something so close to someone's heart. Something that could change lives. Really_change a lot of things, in this case. It was like _Prodigy but even bigger. Of course, the bigger it became, the more it could swell out of my control. Fall harder, as the saying goes.

"You comfortable over there?" I asked.

"Huh? Yeah. It'll do just fine. I've slept on worse. It's a nice couch. This is a uh....really nice place. Like a mansion, but obviously uh,smaller."

"Haha. Yeah, considerably, I'd imagine." I sunk further into the bed. "Guess it's not what you're really used to."

I wondered if he really wanted to stay. Did this hotel room beat the unkempt grass of a derelict camping site? For me, of course it did. Nature sucked. Four walls and a roof, all the way. But for a guy who had been on the road for so long, maybe something like this was "camping" to him. Something you and your perfect white family ventured out to do for a night on the weekend instead of staying in the cul-de-sac and playing yahtzee.

"I like it. It reminds me of back in the day, I guess. Beds. Fancy things. Like Meredith's old house. Or when I went with my Dad to Florida when I was a kid. We stayed in this really tall beach house..."

It got quiet. I felt my eyes getting heavy as the wild thoughts in my mind waned. My breathing leveled out, and then I started slipping into dreamland. Ian must have been drifting off too, because I didn't hear much from his corner of the room. Just the sounds of distant traffic outside.

Or maybe not. I opened my eyes again, and saw him standing in front of the balcony-side door. My eyes rolled, and I choked out a half-snore. I couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes, right?

"Sorry," Ian murmured. "Thought I heard something. But I think it was just the rain."

I heard a soft pitter-patter of raindrops on the side of the building. Globs of water on the bottom edges of the windows distorted street-light that snuck through the blinds. It gave the hotel room a weird, underwater ambiance, lit from the ground-up.

"It's fine," I mumbled.

He--Ian--was naked. It wasn't in some sort of lewd, sexual display. He was just standing there, eyes half-open, peering through some invisible crack in the glass. His body was rigid, tense. He breathed slowly, but hard. Puffs of fog appeared on the door in rhythm with his swelling chest.

"I guess I'm not used to the sounds of big cities like this...It's easy to get confused, think that you're in danger. Something like that. Too many people, maybe."

"Yeah. But, you should get some rest," I said groggily. My arm thrashed, and I whipped open the blankets on the side of the bed closest to Ian. "Here, sleep with me, if you want."

"Chuck, I..."

"It's fine," I echoed.

He nodded. The warm invite was quickly accepted, and Ian strode over to the bed. He grabbed a fistful of blankets, and kneaded it curiously. Almost like he didn't remember how it worked. I felt his weight shift the mattress, and he clambered in.

I felt warmth against me almost instantly, and the rough scrape of hair on my back. I turned to face away from him, more for his comfort than my own. Ian rolled about, but settled after a few moments. I could feel his warm breath, and the bed creaked almost in tune to his deep sighs. A final shift, and I felt the telltale prod of an erect dick at my backdoor. I knew that with little effort, he could drive it right into me.

"Heh. Maybe...not tonight," I chuckled quietly. I playfully grabbed at the head of his cock, gently directing it away from the smoothness of my ass.

"Sorry, I...I know," He stammered. "I wasn't trying to. Just a uh, mind of it's own, sometimes."

"Heh. Alright."

"This is nice," He said gently. "Just this."

I could feel a palm on my hip, but I didn't care. I was tired. Exhausted, really. It hardly registered to me.

'But maybe it's nice,' I thought in my final lucid moments.