“Do anything interesting today?” Cellum calls from the hallway, keys clinking as they hang them up.

“Not really. Still trying and failing to find a job.”

“You know you don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Is there any of that cake left, or did you eat it all?”

“I left you a slice, don’t worry.”

“We should take the box back. Have you even set foot out of the house yet, or have you spent the whole of last week moping inside?”

“I go in the garden.”

“Well,” they say with their mouth full, “that doesn’t count. You take the box back while I finish this, then we’re going for a walk.”

My ears twitch. I’ve not tried to go out since Eda delivered the cake. My fear overcame me. It’s that simple, despite the amount of times I tried to reassure myself that it was so I didn’t scare anyone. The only one whose fear I was avoiding was my own.

But I have no time to argue, as Cellum pushes the tin into my paws. I grit my teeth and step outside.

It’s colder today, thanks to a biting wind that swept in overnight. My fur protects me from the worst of it - being a wolf-man has some perks - but I still shiver. The air’s constant tang of car exhaust is stronger out here, a distinct part of the cocktail, with the trees and the grass and the sweet berries that hang from the pyracantha in the garden across the street. Good for birds, those are. They have two bird feeders too, which are usually alive with the sound and colour of feasting birds.

I ring Eda’s doorbell, and listen to the footsteps grow closer.

“Oh, thank you dear. I was wondering where all my tins had gone.”

I nod. Considering the amount of baked goods she gives out, I’d be surprised to find any tins at all in her house, unless they’d just been returned. I can’t say this though, as I left my tablet in Cellum’s house.

I wave goodbye and return to the house, where Cellum greets me with a scarf to the face.

“You should wrap up, it’s cold out there.”

I sigh and wrap the scarf around my neck. The thick red wool smells like Cellum, and Eda. I fetch my tablet from the kitchen.

“Did Eda make this?”

“Yes - well, actually I did, but she did a lot of it. She was teaching me to knit and I’m very bad at it. You can tell which bits are mine, they have holes in.”

I poke a claw through one of the holes. Despite them, the scarf holds together, no sign of a loose thread anywhere. It’s holding together better than me at this point.

“Shall we be off?”

I nod, putting my tablet in its case and slinging the strap over my shoulder. Cellum leads the way out into the world.

Near the end of the road, we turn down a narrow path between the houses, which soon opens up to wind through a park. At one end, in a fenced off area, is a childrens’ playground, lively with the shouts and screams of kids having a good time. And why not? It’s the weekend, time to relax and have fun.

Despite my fears, I’m starting to enjoy this walk.

“The Thompsons are over there,” I say.

Cellum raises an eyebrow. “Even I can’t see that. You really are incredible.”

I chuckle. It’s not hard with the wind blowing the scents this way. We cross the grass to where Cal and Richy are standing by the fence, chatting with some other parents.

“Oh, Cellum and Ben, excellent!” Cal says as we join the huddle. I try to stand smaller, hunching so I don’t tower over everyone. Still, I get some wary glances.

“We’re just having a stroll around the neighbourhood. Ben’s not been out yet.”

“Oh cool. How are you finding it?”

“It’s nice. I like the park, and it’s really close to the house, which is super.” I feel awkward having to type out what I want to say while everyone waits. Especially as they stare at me, finding it strange - both my wolf-ness and my unconventional method of communication.

Cellum joins in the conversation, which is quieter now. Eventually they bid them goodbye and we leave the circle. Once we reach the path again, the little group allows themselves to mutter:

“He really is monstrous, isn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t trust him around the kids. I’d have left if I could’ve politely.”

Cal and Richy stick up for me, but still I can barely stop myself turning back.

What did I expect? Everyone to love me? It’s quickly becoming apparent that the few who are willing to be around me are indeed a minority. We may be allowed out into the world, but we’ll never truly be part of it. Not any more. They may call us ‘humanoids’ officially, try to big up our humanity, but at the end of the day we’re seen as nothing but beasts.