Alone in the chilly, reclusive former closet known as Hunter's room they held another lecture on Lycanthropy 101.

"So I think before I mentioned the government using Lycanthropes to their advantage instead of telling the world we exist. Lycanthropes have different jobs in different parts of the military, law enforcement, other agencies, but they're also all members of SPOIPA, The Special Persons Observation, Investigation, and Protection Agency. They're like our equivalent for everything from Child Services to Witness Protection."

"Depending on what you can do, it's really easy to get a job with them. My Dad worked as a tracker. He used his senses to track down rogue Lycanthropes and wanted criminals, like a bloodhound. And he was good at it. But too good. He was never around for too long." Hunter took a swig from one of the nutrition drinks. "He relied on his instincts too much, and people think he lost himself."

"What do you mean?"

Hunter looked down. "Some people believe that if you use your skills too much, and you listen to your wolf instincts, that you become the wolf entirely. There are older Werewolves that stop speaking and start to walk on all fours. Their minds are mush. Some say it's just mental illness, others say it's returning to a more natural form. I don't know which is true, but I'm planning on staying human for as long as I can."

"That's so sad." Grayson sat cross-legged on the floor. "It reminds me of when my Grandpa's illness started to show. When I was younger he used to play with me, but he doesn't recognize me anymore. I don't see him much now, he lives with my Uncle's family."

"He lives at home? That's good." Hunter looked at him. "They put My Mom's Grandpa in an old folks home. I think he would be happier in his own house, but they said no one had the time to watch him. B.S. if you ask me."

"But where's your Dad?" Grayson asked.

"No clue. One day he called to say the spirit of the wolf was calling him and never came back. That was like, seven years ago. I'm over it. We still get his social security check so I don't care." He pulled the evidence bag from his messenger bag. "Anyway, I got this from a SPOIPA agent. It seems like he knew my Dad. He's probably a tracker too. At first I was gonna turn this in, but I got to thinking..." He stared at the bag. "Maybe I can use this to find Ashley's attacker or at least prove that I'm not the one that did it."

"Are you sure? Don't you think that's dangerous?" Grayson glanced at the matted faux fur. "Whoever did that might have a screw loose."

"Maybe, maybe not. I can at least try." Hunter set the bag down. "My Dad used to show me how to track people when I was little. I know how to do it." He rubbed his hands nervously. "That's how I avoided seeing you before the Full Moon, actually."

"You what?"

"I can always tell when you're around." He avoided eye contact. "Everybody's got their own scent. It's a mix of stuff, some obvious stuff like a lotion or perfume, and some parts are hard to describe..." He shook his head. "Okay, I get that this is a little dangerous, but I've been flailing around this place for over a month and need to get my bearings, quick or I'll be out on the street. There aren't many things I can do, but I think I can do this. Let me put my freakshow powers to work for once."

Grayson sighed. "Okay. I don't want you to leave Redwood either, but don't you think the people from SPOIPA can figure it out on their own? And if they don't, the worst-case scenario is going home. Is it really so awful?"

Hunter's mood darkened considerably. "Leave."

"What?"

Hunter glared down at him. When it became apparent that their conversation was over, Grayson stood up. "Fine."

While they had not known each other for long, Grayson was beginning to see a pattern in Hunter's emotional roulette. It had not been long since the last Full Moon, and it was clear Hunter was still under its effect. Part of him wanted to argue, but now was not the time. He gave Hunter one last glance before leaving.

As he stepped out into the night air, Grayson tried to remember a time before werewolves were real. Perhaps he always thought they were. As a child, he had believed in Santa Claus. He would look for the fairies his Grandmother told him lived in the garden. Once he had been in trouble for testing if his mother's lawyer was a real vampire after Grayson's father had called the man a bloodsucker.

As he grew older his parents' expectations grew larger and his time chasing the unknown dwindled. But even between his many after-school activities and hours of homework, he looked for something out of the ordinary. Because Grayson could not believe that the world was as boring as his parents were trying to make it. And upon coming to Redwood, he found proof.

Hunter was different from his friends back in Boston. He had never seen so much confusion, charm, and chaos in such a small package. His Lycanthropy was just the icing on an already flavor-loaded cake. He was happy to be in on such a huge secret, yet he wondered what it meant for the future.

Would he be able to protect Hunter and himself in this newly widened world? What other things were out there, hidden in plain sight?