The next morning Grayson awoke early. He would have thought the previous night's events were a dream, but the small key he had held in his hand all night told him otherwise. At the crack of dawn. He returned to the Howard dormitory. Chilly winds and rattling tree branches were his only company before he entered the quiet building.

The dorm gave him an eerie feeling. It was as if the zombie apocalypse had come and wiped out Redwood. Not once did he encounter another human being between Marconi and Howard. He pressed an ear to Hunter's door. Hearing nothing, he carefully used the key in the lock. Grayson took cautious steps as he entered Hunter's room.

Hunter was still on the floor, although now lightly snoring, and laying on his side. His bindings were still in place, keeping his arms pinned to his back and his legs, bound at the ankles. There was no sign of the growling, writhing being that Hunter had become the night before. With the threat of danger gone, Grayson dropped his backpack and knelt down next to Hunter.

"There's no way this stuff is comfortable. Let's get these off..."

Hunter's reward for returning to consciousness was a migraine. His body felt weightless and after cracking an eye open, he realized he was being lifted from the floor. Panic was his first reaction, but his body wasn't ready to retaliate. First came his old friend, the muscle spasm. He whined through the muzzle and his unseen visitor placed him on his bed. Something warm was pressed into his back, and the relief was enough to put him back to sleep.

When Hunter woke up again he could feel that his restraints had been moved, but his body was still sore. He was laying on his stomach, with his head turned to the wall. Something wasn't right. The light was on. He struggled to roll over onto his back, growling instead of groaning. The 'wolf' wasn't gone just yet.

His jaw still didn't feel quite right, and his motor skills were still a little messy. It was the same thing after each full moon. He would awaken dazed, nearly infantile as his body reconfigured each part's use, like a computer switching programs. At this point in the process using his fingers would feel alien, and walking was practically impossible.

"Are you awake?"

Hunter squinted and turned his head. Maybe his senses were still a little off, but he could have sworn he heard Grayson's voice. He heard his desk chair being moved to the front of the bed, and suddenly there was Grayson. sitting in front of him, the same concerned look he had the night Hunter ran off.

Oh great. Hunter rolled his eyes. I'm hallucinating. Oh, and drooling. Nice combo.

A pleasantly cool hand touched his forehead. He leaned into the touch.

"That's no good. You're really hot."

No, you're really hot. Hunter wanted to say out loud. But wait, if Hallucination Grayson had cold hands, didn't that mean Hallucination Grayson was a real person? He tried to speak.

"Grrrrayshon?"

"In the flesh. Good morning. Or should I say afternoon?" He withdrew his hand. "You've been in and out all day."

"W-Why?" Hunter croaked.

"Why am I here?" Grayson surmised. "Your friend gave me the key. I uh..." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I happened to see you and him outside. You asked him to tie you up and I got a little suspicious..." His gaze went to the window. "Okay, maybe suspicious isn't the right word."

Hunter flexed his jaw. Talking was still difficult, but doing so always seemed to help his human side get back control. While he was far from moving around, he could at least feel his toes. "H-H-How long haff you been h--h-here?"

Grayson gave him a serious gaze. "Long enough to know the truth."

That shut Hunter up real quick.

"I'm sorry, that was vague." Grayson apologized. "I'm talking about the werewolf thing."

The werewolf thing. Hunter had spent days agonizing over all the possible outcomes from telling Grayson the truth, and with one small misstep, he had found out and accepted it while Hunter was asleep. Really? It was too simple. Hunter didn't know why he expected anything else from a guy like him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. So he did both.

Grayson was startled. "Does something hurt?"

"Ev-ery-thing." He bit his tongue as he chuckled. "This ish sho shtupid."

Grayson rose from the chair, causing it to roll back and hit the adjacent wall. "I'll be right back."

Grayson returned with a cold washcloth. He pressed it against Hunter's forehead.

"Thashh nice." Hunter sighed.

"Good." Grayson returned to his perch on the chair.

"Does it hurt a lot?" He asked.

Hunter stifled the laugh this time. For whatever reason, Grayson was currently playing nursemaid. But after years of going through the same situation with family members and non-pack friends, he knew it was best to be direct.

"Yesh. It always hursh." He admitted. "Everything alwaysh hursssh." He closed his eyes. "And ish not jush my legs, or my back." The truth was spilling out. "I'm not sshhhtrong enough to be a wolf, or e-even enough to be a h-human. Even when I don't I have to change, it hurshh because I'm shtill weird to errbody elsh. I've got these shtupid teettthh and I'm dark as hell..People alwaysh asking, 'what are you?', 'What are you?' Like I'm some big m-m-myshtery. I'm not." He opened his eyes. The tears were welling up again, and he tried to blink them away. "I'm unfinished. I'm not human, I'm not a wolf. I'm jusssh junk."

"Stop." Grayson begged. He took Hunter's hand and squeezed it. This wasn't how he expected things to go. He had felt a little self-loathing coming from Hunter before. Something sad always seemed to seep into his voice from time to time, but now he could see it went deeper than he originally thought.

Seeing Grayson's somber face was like a knife to the heart. "I'm shorry. " The tears continued to fall. "I'm alwaysh a messsh after the moon. No filter."

"You don't have to be sorry," Grayson responded, rubbing circles into Hunter's hand. "You just have to tell me what's wrong so I can do something about it."

Hunter could feel his fingers then. He laced them with Grayson's. "That...shounds...nice..."

Despite sleeping all day, he was still feeling tired. However, he didn't want to go back to sleep just yet. Grayson was here, accepting and helping. He honestly didn't know what he had been thinking to try to do this alone.

After a while, Grayson broke the silence. "So, how long have you been like this?"

"I wash born like this." He smirked. "I'm shure you have questions."

Grayson smiled back. "Hundreds. But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Where'sh the fun in that?" Hunter raised an eyebrow. "I've been keeping this ssshhhecret for years. I shoulda kept a speech ready. Whaddaya wanna know?"

Grayson's curiosity was practically radiating from his body. "Everything."

"Okay. Shhh, s-sit me up first." Hunter turned his head. "And... passh me my sunglasses."

Propped up with pillows Hunter began his speech. He tried to work his jaw and tounge properly. "Okay, classh. Welcome to Lycanthropy 101. Lesh hear those queshtions."

"So, you said you were born with... it. Do your parents have it too?"

"My Dad doesh. My Mom.. is normal. Lycanthropy ish... only passed down these days. In the moviesh it's usually a bite, but there's no evidence of that happening here in the U.S. f-for the last hundred years or so, though it ish possible that none of us carry the gene to do it here."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Lycanthropy ish like the common cold. It has different strains, and it doesn't affect everyone the shame way. Like, you p-probably didn't notice, but there are other werewolves on campus besides me." He adjusted his sunglasses with the side of his hand. "We don't all show the sh--same symptoms or behavior. That guy you got the key from is one too, but his shifting cycle is different from mine, so he was able to help me out."

Grayson's eyebrows raised."What's a shifting cycle?"

"It's the period of time where a werewolf becomes ph-physically and emotionally unstable. It's not just a glance at the moon and boom--werewolf. Your body has to prepare itself. My legsh and my back are a messss for days." He sighed. "But my mind starts to go the week of the full moon. That's when the wolf starts to take over. I get a little...angry. Or sad. But shome people have it much easier. There'sh a guy in this dorm that does it all in one night."

"You said the wolf takes over...I guess you can't control it then?"

"Yeah. My mind goes blank during the whole thing. I might as well be ashleep. I can't really remember what I did yesterday either."

"Well, I only saw you when you were outside the Howard...In your pajamas."

Hunter looked down at his shirt. "That explains the grassh stains. Perfect."

"But how do you know about the other werewolves? Do you guys have a secret society or something?"

"Ha. Not so secret." He wore an amused grin. "You've been right all along, you know. The government is lying to you. Not only do they know we exist, we're all registered as Lycan-Americans."

Grayson slumped in his seat. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Hunter shook his head. "Lycanthropy has been a thing since way before America was founded. There were several packs across North and Shouth America--still are, but we're a little different now. The older ones h-have dedicated reservationsh, shince s-some of them are Native American. But werewolvesh make packs the same way wolves do. S-Someone leavesh and starts their own town or community. Because of that, a lot of us are mixed--racially and by Lycanthropy type. Because Lycanthrope immigrants and native Lycanthropesh have kids everywhere, practically no two of us have the shame set of traits anymore. We can look like anybody."

"That's pretty cool." Grayson frowned. "But why didn't they just admit Werewolves existed along time ago? Then you wouldn't have to hide it."

"People can't even handle different skin colorsh, religionssh, or gendershh. How well do you think that would go? Plus, why openly share it when you exploit the secrecy ashpect and use Lycanthropes in military and law enforcement roles? Thish is America we're talking about. "

Grayson gave a defeated sigh. "I should've known. But what about medicine and doctors? How do you explain your condition?"

"We have doctorsh. Not many, but they exist. My whole pack hash to rely on one person, but there's a couple up in Canada, and some down in New York City."

Hunter was an open book at this point, a refreshing turn from his cryptic behavior weeks before to Grayson. And likewise, Hunter found it equally refreshing to finally tell someone outside his pack about his problems. Their moment of mutual understanding was cut short by the sounds of distant sirens.

"Whash that?" Hunter asked, looking at the window.

"What?" Grayson looked around.

"Sounds like the cops, or an ambulance." Hunter listened. "Maybe both. At least two cars."

Soon, Grayson could hear them as well. "Something must've happened."

Hunter couldn't help but think of the worst. "There are a couple of new students like me." He had been fortunate enough to get locked up for the night, but what about the others? Maybe the reason Malcolm never responded was that he had his own moon-related madness.

"I was going to leave for a bit to grab lunch." Grayson shrugged. "Maybe I can find something out while I'm outside."

"Aweshome." He relaxed a little. "I'd come with, but no legs yet."

"No problem. Do you want anything?"

"Nah. Ish best to leave the tank empty when I can't move."

Grayson paused for a moment. Even immobile patients needed nourishment. "I'll get something small just in case." With no further protest spoken he left the Howard in search of food. The sun had yet to set on Redwood, and the relentless chill was present, but the students and faculty seemed to all be outside. They chatted en masse, huddling on the grass as another police car made a slow crawl across the campus, parking with two others in front of Rosewood.

Grayson stood in the crowd, catching hearsay from the hushed conversations around him.

"She was in the woods alone."

"..naked and covered with blood..."

"Tracks in the dirt..."

"I've seen her before, at the Stetson."

A pale, disinterested face weaved through the crowd. "I assume you all have something more important to occupy your time with." Lugosi pushed his way through with his briefcase before joining a small group directly in front of the building--the members of the English department.

Grayson recognized his own professor in their huddle, so he headed to the front of the herd, right at the border of freshly installed yellow tape.

"Where is she?" Lugosi hissed, his eyes meeting Garou's. The even paler gentleman looked as if he had not slept in days, his blonde locs unkempt.

"Already removed." His voice was hard to hear above the crowd.

"And where are they?" Lugosi glowered.

Garou's face darkened and his upper lip went back, revealing long canines.

Grayson shivered. Another werewolf? He shook his head. Not everyone with pointy teeth was a werewolf, but after talking to Hunter, he had to wonder how many there were.

"...resting at this time. I will gather them once they are..." Garou stopped mid-sentence, sniffing the air. His blood-red eyes then went to the crowd, settling on Grayson, who blinked.

His eyes went to the three policemen who appeared from behind the building. One was still closing a small plastic bag. At first, Grayson thought it contained a small animal, but on closer inspection, he saw a familiar pair of faux fur wolf ears, matted with blood.