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5 Quentin

It had happened again. I secretly cursed myself as I tried to wash the blood off my palms in a nearby stream. I tried to figure out what caused the shifting to occur and all I ended up doing was waking up to another slaughter. Thankfully this time, like the first, it was just farm animals. That was the new morality I was facing. Better to kill herd animals than it was to kill a human being. I was still hungry though. Hungry and living in the woods. I had just turned fourteen and ran away from my foster parents. How could I possibly explain to them what I was? I barely understood it myself. Since that fateful night when I slaughtered that herd of sheep, I had similar "attacks" again but as time went on I became more and more aware of what was going on. I couldn't control myself though. Most I could do was lock myself in my room and pretend I had thrown a temper tantrum or use the now worn out excuse of sleepwalking. I could see the disbelief in my foster parent's eyes. Then came the phone call that I could keenly hear from my room. I was "the problem" and needed "a solution", possibly insane or mentally disturbed. I knew I was neither of those things so I grabbed some can goods and the tent my foster parents had given me for Christmas. Oddly enough I took to living in the woods pretty well. It just felt natural to do so. I was still pretty much a child though but I had done this sort of thing since I was eight. My life had dictated that I do so for my own mental sanity.

I had tried to go through the foster system but I heard things and sometimes the people who took me in smelt funny. In my gut I knew I couldn't trust them. Some were damned by their own words, some were damned by things far worse than words and I knew those people were far worse than anything I could be. I learned to go with my instincts especially with the ones that smelt funny. I had allowed myself to stay with one fellow who had that eerie scent and I found out that he tried to touch me in a bad way. I gritted my teeth at the thought of those hands trying to cop a feel. I didn't know what that was back then but I learned from a few therapist that there was a bad touch. That bad touch made my skin crawl and the shiver I received from the cold water of the stream I was using to wash my hand felt warmer than any touch any of my foster parents thus far had shown me. I was certain there was someone out there for me. After all that was what was in the movies and television programs I got to see. The good kid always got the good family in the end. I had clung to that belief even as I was living off the land in a tent.

I had done this before always returning back to the foster home after a few days. This time though it had been a few weeks and I seem to be doing good. It was cooling off at night and I could tell the days were getting shorter. Fall would be here soon and I couldn't very well `stay outside in the colder nights. I somehow doubted that child protective services were standing idly back while I was camping out here. I had worried about that fact for a minute and wondered if they could throw me in jail. I doubted it as it was more likely that the man who had touched me would be going to jail if he hadn't done so already. Maybe that's what I was left out here so long he was in jail and told everyone he had killed me. The thought didn't make much sense but so much in my life hadn't made much sense either.

I looked down at my reflection in the water. My black hair had gotten longer than I usually liked it, it waved down past my shoulders, the bangs hanged haphazardly on my forehead. The thick brows over shadowed my dark eyes. Kids at the various schools I had gone too often nicknamed me the caveman thanks in part to the thick ridge over my eyes, not helping it was the equally dark eyebrows and my eyes sat ever so slightly inwards on my head. I had developed a bit quicker than my peers. Already at the age of fourteen I was beginning to sprout body hair mostly along my stomach and legs. It would not be long I wagered before I'd be shaving as well. I had also started growing taller. Then again I had always seemed to be a bit taller than most kids. My body was still average though, not too thin, not too thick.

I wasn't too concerned with school and the way I looked of more immediate concern was what to do with whatever it was I had killed last night. There was bloody remains near the camp site. The tufts of brown fur told me I had taken down a deer. Honestly I couldn't remember and that part scared me most of all. I walked around the tent and saw bits of flesh hanging from tree limbs, an intestinal here, a mauled liver there. I had gotten familiar with various body parts after I took out a book at the library I reasoned it was better to try and figure out what I was doing when I blacked out though I had a pretty good idea. Those haunting images of running and chasing down things that fled in my path. The tracks that always appeared whenever I woke up were pretty tell tale as well. I had looked that up many years ago, compared the black illustrations to the tracks I found in the mud near one of my homes. Canine for sure but more specifically wolf. That lead to only one explanation. I followed the tracks again hoping to they would help me figure out if my assumption was true. I came over the hill and didn't expect to see what I now saw with my dark eyes.

There laying half hazardly on the side of the hill covered in a few muddy patches was a man laying on his side. He was completely naked as I had been earlier in the morning. Unlike me he was built like a tank. His round chest muscles rose and fell with every breath. Those same chest muscles were covered in a thick fur of dark hair. The same thick hair covered his head only there at the temples and on the sides the black hair gave way to grey. He sported an equally greying goatee on his chin. His eyes thankfully were closed. His arms and legs laid out away from his body one on top of the other similar to how a dog would sleep. His limbs were thick with muscle and I bet he could crush coconuts with his large biceps and powerful looking forearms. His male anatomy laid out like the rest of him hidden only partially by the same dark hair that have covered his chest. His legs and forearms were pretty hairy as well. I tried not to stare at the man but it wasn't often that you saw a naked man in the woods. Then again I was naked as well and pretty much almost a man. I crept a bit closer wondering why he was there.

"Good morning or at least I hope to God it is," came a brassy voice from the man.

I jumped back hoping to hide again.

"No sense in running away little one, I can already smell ya," he responded. It was true he hadn't even opened his eyes yet to see him how did he.

"Please tell me you have some clothes. Last thing I want to look at is some young man's junk first thing in the morning and I am sure you don't want to look at mine," he stated as his eyes opened.

I found myself transfixed by his eyes. They were the most brilliant yellow I had ever seen. He seemed to look right through me as I stood there slightly shell shock. After all in all the time I woke up like this I never had encountered another naked person. Usually it was me scrambling for cover before someone spotted me or ducking inside before my various foster parents would notice I wasn't in my bedroom.

"Well son, you going to stare there all day? You can talk can't you?" he asked as he sat up.

"Yes sir. Not sure I have anything that'll fit you though," I answered.

"Well your dad's clothing should do at least for a little bit," he suggested.

"I don't have a dad sir," I replied not wanting to give away the fact I was alone after all he certainly could cause a lot of harm to me if I let it known that I was such.

"Uncle, cousin, brother, whoever you are with get me some of their clothes I am sure something of theirs will do," he stated.

I didn't know what to do after all if I went back to my campsite which granted was just over the hill he might follow me and rob me or worse. There was only one course of action.

"Yeah my Uncle Freddy might have something. He's big burly, bigger than you even. He went out looking for deer but should be back I'll..."I started to lie thinking quickly.

"You'll stop lying to me young one for starters," he grimaced getting up. "For another by the smell of things your Uncle Freddy is either the world's messiest butcher or a deer."

How did he know I was lying? How did he know about the deer and the mess back at camp? Maybe he caused it, maybe he has scouted the area while I had blacked out. I started to walk away stepping back ever so carefully but keeping an eye on him. I never let my eyes off from him for a second as I back tracked up the hill and back to my campsite. Once over the hill I'd run for it. I am sure I knew the lay of the land better than this guy did after all I had been living here for several weeks and he just popped out of nowhere. My feet hit somthing hard and I turned briefly to look at what it was. Just a stump of a fallen tree. I quickly stepped over it and turned my gaze back to the man. I found myself staring at a hairy collar bone. Startled I fell backwards landing on my ass as I saw that the strange man stood there standing over me his powerful arms crossed over his round furry chest. He looked down at me narrowing those unnaturally yellow eyes.

"Amusing as this is that you honestly thought you could run up the hill, I don't got time for this," he mutters as he grabbed me effortlessly by the back of my shirt and lifted me off the ground like a piece of luggage.

He carried me right to my campsite without so much as breaking a sweat or any kind of labored breathing. He tossed me to the ground right by my tent. His gazed looking around at the gory mess I had discovered upon waking up. Without even asking he took a towel from my open back and wrapped it around his waist. His motions seemed to deliberate and fluid as if he knew what to do exactly one minute to the next. He went over the to the tree limb littered with various parts of whatever animal I had slaughtered. His thick fingers reach out and tapped one of the limbs resulting in the pieces falling to the ground with a sickening splattering sound. He looked at the blood soaked ground and then back at me. I looked away from the man's gaze almost instinctively out of shame of what he was looking at. I was not just embrassed but also terrified that another human being know knew what I had been doing since I was a little kid.

"You are one messy eater young one," he stated kicking a few pieces that laid around the ground with his bare feet. He didn't seem to mind the blood staining his feet at all. "Not only messy but wasteful too, almost shameful. I am surprised you haven't been caught. How long have you been doing this?"

I remained silent hoping that this would all end before it went got any weirder. A child like thought cross my mind that maybe this had all been a long dream. I'd wake up in my foster parent's home in a nice warm bed rather than the slightly chilly forest. He studied me a bit and wrapped the towel more securely around his waist.

"That long huh?" he stated as he opened the flap of my tent and peered in.

I had taken the time to get my hands on a hatchet I had gotten some time back and slowly had been getting ready. I was waiting for him to turn his back to me and then I'd let him have it. I wasn't sure what this guy was but he was downright creeping me out. Once he was looking in my tent I charged raising the small hatchet above my head to give me greater leverage. The hope was I could knock him out and make a break for it back to my foster parent's home. I'd then get the police to arrest this man, probably make up some story about him touching me like that filthy man had done all those years ago. He was naked after all so it wouldn't be hard for the cops to believe my story. Before I could even get my arm down I found the hatch arm being held by the stranger. He was still back to me and yet he had grabbed my arm right before it hit the back of his head. In a swift twist he turned himself around on the balls of his feet and stood over me, twisting my arm as he twisted his body. I let out a cry at the sudden pain of feeling my arm twist and I heard the sickening sound of my arm breaking. I had broken bones before sometimes at the hands of a beating but never done so deliberately by an adult. The sudden pain brought tears to my eyes as another powerful hand wrapped around my neck forcing my head upwards as he brought his goateed face next to mine.

"I'll make this even plainer for you pup," he spat that last word meanly. "You ARE far out of your league here. Most others who would stumble across this shame you call a life would have killed you outright. Raise another arm, leg, weapon, or even your voice and the next thing I'll break will be your neck you got that?"

I struggled a bit against his grip, tears flowing down my cheeks as he held me there.

"You got that?!" he asked again slamming his free hand down on my broken arm.

I let out a scream of pain that echoed through out the trees and startled the birds who flew off into the air. He let me go and I clutch my broken arm falling to my knees sobbing at the pain. He stood there over me. He could end me just like that and why was he waiting. I was in too much pain. "I'll ask one more time pup, do we have an understanding?" I nodded my head vigorously the words failing to come out of my mouth.

"Good," he stated as he took two sticks I had been working on for a fishing rod. He snapped the twine and braced my arm, tying the sticks together tightly. "I took the liberty in your first lesson to set the arm. You see although we heal fast and can overcome most normal injuries and quite a few major ones, bones will still mend as they break. If you don't set them you'll heal in a matter of days with a twisted useless limb and there's nothing worse than a lame predator."

I tried to take in the sudden rush of information that he spurted on about. FInding myself more concerned that a stranger who had just snapped my arm like a twig was now giving me first aid pointers and mending it. I looked up at him still teary eyed but confused at almost every word he said. He looked at me and seemed to regard my face a bit. Like the first time we locked eyes he seemed to be able to study me and was looking for something.

"You don't know do you?" he stated. Even though it was a question he stated it as if it were a fact. "You do know don't you, surely at your age you must at least suspect?"

"Suspect what?" I finally managed to get out trying not the wince at the pain in my arm.

"I weep for our future. You're a werewolf son," he stated bluntly as he stood up.

"I...can't...." I began looking around the campsite, the blatant sudden revelation being a bit much to take in.

When I looked back up at him the naked man was gone. He was replaced by a large black thing that belonged in the realm of nightmares. The twisted legs, the sharp slightly curved claws, the long muzzle loaded with white drooling fangs, and the brilliant amber eyes that now gazed down at me seemed all too familiar to me. The only thing that the monster from my memories lacked was this creatures sheer bulk and a coat of grey that covered his muzzle, chest, and stomach. The monster before me then did something I hadn't ever expected.

"You better believe me, pup."

The monster spoke in a voice deeper and more guttural than the human voice it belonged to just moments ago.

"If you are so in denial then I'll have no choice but to end your rather limited life here and now. We can't afford to be weak or allow for weakness and you better accept what you are or you'll tear through your life much like you teared through that deer last night," he explained.

"I...I...I always knew deep down. I just thought..." I started.

"You were the only one. Well you aren't pup. We aren't legion or going to have a population explosion any time soon but there are others and not all of them are as kind as I am," he answered.

I gulped at the last statement. If this was his kindness I didn't want to see what the others cruelty was. It was a slight relief to know I wasn't the only one. I had suspected what I was but was always not sure. After all such things belonged in the story books but the mounting evidence early on. The tracks outside my bedroom, the visions I had of running through the woods on legs that were no human, the way others treated me, and the odd things I had done and continued to do all lead to the inescapable conclusion that I was what this monster claimed I really was. I was still cautious though as he had clearly demonstrated the ability to end my life if he so chose to.

"I have questions," I said bluntly.

"Of course and I am willing to answer them but not now. Right now I want you to go home and get me some clothes. Grab some food too and come back here and I'll answer all your questions to the best of my ability," he offered, there was a tone of sincerity in his voice. "Try to avoid your parents what with that broken arm. If you come back here with any human authorities not only will you not find me here, but you will find your life will be ending very very shortly there after pup."

I didn't waste much time at my foster parent's home. I did manage to leave them a note telling them I was at a friends place and just needed some time alone. Come to find out the weeks I thought I had been gone had actually turned out to be just a little over eleven days and my foster parents had as usual suspected I was gone off on one of my sabbaticals. I grabbed what food I could mostly can stuff of processed meals like Chef Boyardee and soup. I thought about grabbing a steak from the freezer but though that might go noticed and attract attention. I also thought very hard about taking one of the pistols from my foster father's gun cabinet. One look at my busted arm made me think twice of taking any arms whatsoever. I grabbed a worn t shirt that might fit the stranger along with a pair of jeans that if they were missed were in need of replacement given the holes and stains in them. I ran back to the camp site. My heart was racing with anticipation as I had more questions to ask than I could possibly remember. When I got to the campsite my heart sank though.

The tent was ripped to shreds. Where there had been blood and guts was now magically clean as if nothing has ever happened. My hatchet was embedded in a nearby tree. I went over to try and pry it out but it was no good. Mr. creepy werewolf has seen to it that it was buried in the tree almost all the way to the handle. I was in disbelief as I sat down on the log staring at the scene. He at least had the towel still on him. The towel, I quickly took out my foster father's t shirt. I had been newly washed as the towel had been when I took it. I wondered if the idea forming in my head would work. I inhaled the scent deeply. I could smell the clean bleach chemical easily. I sniffed the air around the campsite. There were hints of it around of course but I circled sniffing the air. There was a trace along with another scent. A musky scent that seemed rather familiar. I started to follow it going up the hill where I had seen the strange man before. I kept tracking the scent seemed to come and go and I wondered if I was going to be lead around in circles but what else was I going to do. I wasn't about to let this opportunity slip me by. A stream cut through the woods and made it hard to pick of the scent. All I could smell was the clean water so I jumped over the small waterway. I sniffed around. It was a clearing with tall yellow grass all around. I had an uneasy feeling about this. I held the bag of the clothes and food tight to my chest. In a swift motion I brought the back with all my might that I could muster right into the open hand of the black werewolf.

"Very well done pup. You at least know how to use your nose and slightly better realized it was trap albeit a bit late but still better than I had expected," he evaluated me bluntly taking the bag away from me.

"You trashed my campsite!" I protested.

"I saved us both a potential problem. Imagine a hunter coming across that scene. Worse imagine you were caught in that tent with your little party favors all over the place. Second lesson and most important avoid attention. You don't see werewolf attacks in the news for a good reason," he replied. "You're welcome on the cleaning up part."

"Who are you?" I asked wondering what kind of mad werewolf I had wandered into.

"My name is Quentin and I can ask the same of you pup."

"Donovan. Donovan Chast...." I started to reply with my actual birth name.

The black werewolf had gone and in it's place in a flash of an eye was the naked form of Quentin already putting on my father's t-shirt which was poured over his upper body and didn't even cover his round gut. I tried not to stare at the bare flesh of his stomach. It was odd that the rest of him was this muscular behemoth and yet his stomach was slightly round. Though the closer I looked the more I saw lines that suggested the formation of a six pack. The boxers did a better job of covering his lower half that the t shirt had. I didn't look at his crotch at all as I didn't want to be rude.

"Chastel," he finished my name before I even got the final syllable out.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"I know a lot of things about our kind. The name is not unknown, I take it is your parent's name right?" he inquired as he looked through the can goods. "Damn, you actually eat this shit."

I tried not to be insulted by the comment about the can goods, after all he was the beggar in that regard and I had always been told beggars could not be choosers. He squeezed one can til the contents oozed out and he downed it. It seemed rather crude until I realized I hadn't had the foresight to bring a can opener.

"I guess so, it was the name the authorities said was my parents. I didn't know them much as they both died when I was very, very young. About all I know about them are a few memories," I answered Quentin.

"Sorry but the change usually leaves you very hungry," he replied as he kept eating the food and seemed to ignore my answer entirely.

"I am not hungry."

"You haven't recently transformed and when you last did you slaughtered a whole deer. I bet you have been leaving a trail of slaughtered livestock and animals in your wake haven't you?" he asked in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

"You mean we can change whenever we want to?" I asked after nodding to his own inquiry.

"I thought as much. It was how I was able to find you, like I said sloppy pup. Any werewolf worth their salt eats their fill, the most you should leave behind is a few bones and smatterings of blood," he stated casually.

The casual talk of killing made be a bit nervous about this guys mental state and he seemed to ignore my questions. I stopped asking or egging him on and waited for an answer to my question while he downed another can good. He licked his lips clean of the reddish orange sauce that seemed to come with every processed canned good on the self. It made me wonder what was in that stuff. He tossed the empty cans into the woods in random directions. Then stood there silently.

"Well..." I finally spoke.

"If I am going to go through with his, teaching you that is. I want to lay some ground rules. One don't ask stupid questions to answers you already know to be wrong. For example if you ask does the full moon affect us. I'll most likely laugh in your face if I am in a good mood or give you a pounding with my fist if I am not. Clear?"he asked.

"Yes sir," I nodded.

"Good. The answer is yes we can and you should know that. Second rule do not get caught. We are werewolves. We hunt, we kill, and sometimes what we kill is not a deer, or a moose, or a herd of chickens, it's people. Sometimes people we know, sometimes people who are just unlucky to cross our path. I don't advise actively hunting humans but sometime in your life Donovan you are going to have to kill someone. To that end we hide. If humanity ever found out about us we would be facing a world full of them versus a world with all too few of us. And history shows all too well what humanity does to anyone or anything different than itself."

I nodded hoping that his talk about killing someone was something I could avoid, but I did understand the idea of being hidden. I thought about all those foster homes I had been in. All those people I had touched or seen in my life and if they had found out I was a werewolf I sincerely doubted any of them would believe me but if they did...It was hard to imagine a world where that would work and exist.

"Third rule I am your teacher. Not an Alpha, not a master, not a snugly wolf dad for you to cry about life's woes. I don't know of any werewolves that belong to packs but if they do they must be constantly at each other's throats. I don't like being a master of anything and I am certainly not a master werewolf, get that out of your head. The only reason I can out do you is because I am bigger, older, and wiser than you. Rule four I will test you. Every time you come to me asking for answers I will test your abilities until such a time as I deem you are on equal footing as I am. Once that is done I will not be able to teach you any more. When and if the day comes that I can no longer test you or tell you anything more, we part ways. We might contact each other by means deemed safe for us both, but most likely we will never cross paths again. If we do it will be because you didn't learn these lessons and I will come back and fix that mistake,"he explained finally finishing. "Is any of this confusing in any way?"

"No sir, quite clear," I nodded as it did make sense and I was more eager to become like him.

With every passing moment I found myself wanting to be like this werewolf. I wasn't sure exactly why but something told me he knew what he was talking about. I hoped I wasn't falling into some sort of idolization of him because he was the first werewolf I met. His rules though made me want to trust him if only as a knowledgeable person. The fact he flat out told me he wasn't a master, wasn't a father figure, wasn't a person in command for commands sake made me respect him more. I had father figures they were unreliable. I had seen more than my share of people who wanted to be in charge but shouldn't be. Masters if there were any masters they had a lot to answer for. No if anything I was wanting to be like this werewolf. It wasn't like there were any models to go by but I felt I could follow his lead at least. I wanted to move with his grace and be as big and strong as he was. I wanted to be able to snap an arm like he had mine. Most of all I wanted to control the monster that I was. I wanted to learn and if it meant crossing the rivers of Hell to do it I would.

"Good one final rule and it's something I want you to take to heart. You are NOT a monster. You're a werewolf but the only werewolf that is a monster is the one that thinks it IS a monster."

I nodded vigorously.

"Good now let us begin."