When Jean followed Fred outside of town and back into the woods at around seven in the morning, he admittedly thought maybe he was walking into some kind of trap, and that all that easy talking with the deceivingly smooth and calm way Fred spoke was all to put him in a false sense of security before he attacked.

He was glad to have been wrong, otherwise he would've had to admit that he was as stupid as most of his actions at the moment were making him out to be. Though in retrospect, being killed by a werewolf sounded like a better way to go than being killed by a mini army of angry, crazed gnomes.

He really should've gone home.

“What the fuck do we do, now?” Jean asked, both he and Fred high up on a thick tree branch as the gnomes growled and raged as they tried to climb up the tree, falling and tripping against each other.

High up in the tree, thanks to Fred unceremoniously carrying him and jumping up there, Jean looked down at them with both terror and fascination.

Gnomes, from all that he had read, were supposed to be peaceful, garden faeries that sang around and hid when humans got too close. What he was looking at, with muddy beards, yellow eyes and needle like fangs and claws, didn't exactly look like the singing, frolicking type.

“You,” Jean faced forward to see Fred on his bare feet, squatting low as he looked down, “stay right here. Trust me. I gnome what I'm doing.”

Jean hoped his expression showed that he thought Fred was crazy, the werewolf turning to look at him with an expectant smile.

“Get it? Cause gnomes?” he asked and Jean wondered what he was expecting. A round of applause for the very inappropriate, very bad pun?

“Save your laughter for later. Sure hope these guys are still as stupid as ever,” Fred said with a laugh before jumping down the tree.

Jean looked down to see all those tiny little monsters try to get at him at once, and Fred hopped on the spot, jumping like he was prepping for a boxing match before vanishing out of thin air.

Then he vanished and appeared behind them, the gnomes looking very confused before turning around to get Fred. Only that he vanished again, appearing on a tree further away from the one Jean was on.

The gnomes were fast, faster than any human Jean had seen, but Fred was faster, fast enough to look like a quick blur when he wanted to, so it was just an odd game of Marco-Polo, Fred leading them further and further away into the woods until Jean couldn't see neither Fred nor the gnomes anymore.

Jean tried to stand straight on the branch, nearly falling as he shook and quickly pressed his back to the tree, to look over but he couldn't see a thing but he nearly fell again when he heard a distant boom, then a small cloud of…dirt appeared around South of where he stood.

“Hey!”

The unexpected sound of Fred's voice from below made Jean yelp and jump, losing balance and falling down from the tree.

Luckily for him, his reason for his fall was kind enough to catch him.

“Whoa there, kid,” Fred said, adjusting a stunned Jean in his arms, looking down at him with a smile that reminded Jean of toothpaste commercials. “Didn't think you'd fall for me that fast.”

Jean blinked his eyes rapidly and looked up at Fred and had no idea why the dirt covered werewolf was looking so proud of himself.

“Do you do that often?” Jean asked, getting out of Fred's arms and looking up at the messy man.

Fred tilted his head to the right, big puppy eyes holding confusion.

“Do what often? Be irresistible? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Jean ignored that and looked around them, half-expecting to be surrounded by bloodthirsty tiny men with long, red hats.

“Where are they? What happened? Why are they like that? I thoughts gnomes were peaceful,” Jean asked quickly, jogging by Fred's side as they headed back to town.

The werewolf removed some orange leaves from his head and the hoodie he wore, wiping dirt from his face.

“They're back underground. I closed the opening so it'd be a while before they can dig back out again. Hopefully by then, the pixie’s little prank would've worn off and they'd be back to their sweet selves,” he said, spitting out dirt and making a disgusted face.

Jean stopped walking and gasped out of excitement, previous fear all but forgotten.

“Pixies?” he yelled, jogging back to Fred and standing in front of the werewolf, walking backwards.

“Yeah, pixies,” Fred said with another soft laugh, tilting his head again, looking like he was amused by Jean.

Not caring, Jean grinned broadly.

“How many other species are out there? Are they all like the texts say? How are they all in America? Wh-”

“Three questions, boyo. Three questions at a time or you'll do my head in,” Fred said, cutting him off.

Jean nodded sheepishly as he pressed his lips together, moving to walk beside Fred before he tripped on something.

“There are a lot,” Fred began to answer. “You guys barely scratched the surface before we kinda went into hiding what with the hunting and burning and shit. The stories, somewhat accurate, somewhat not. And we're not all in America. Most of the ones in America came from other continents, like the pixies and gnomes came from Europe during all that exploration shit. Lycans are everywhere, different types, more so in other places.”

Jean wished he had his journal out with him while Fred said all that but it didn't matter then because he was just reeling and feeling a kind of joy and interest with what someone had to say that he hadn't felt before.

“Any other questions as we slowly walk in the woods covered in dirt and sweat?” Fred asked, looking at a ladybug on the back of his light brown hand.

Jean opened his mouth immediately and shot question after question, and Fred answered each the best he could. He had even been able to make Jean laugh and that was just so odd.

Compared to Jean's usual Saturday mornings, full of movie analysis and assignments and projects, that morning with Fred was the best one Jean had had in what felt like years.

He almost felt bad that it wasn't going to be a frequent thing.