It didn’t take long to unpack their purchases. Most of it was food, along with some essentials that they would need in a week again anyway. Reverently, Robin carefully placed her new overcoat in her personal trunk at the foot of her bed. It was an old, dented metal chest that she had selected purely because of the fact that it reminded her of the kind of chest a pirate might bury in one of her cherished fantasy novels. These novels actually constituted a large portion of the rest of the chest’s contents. Aside from those were things like pictures, jewelry, her diary, and other articles of clothing that also held a lot of sentimental value. The memories of her precious things made her smile as she closed the trunk and locked it, before returning to the living room.

When she arrived, Papa had just made it down the stairs, having stowed his own belongings. Almost simultaneously, the pair of them collapsed into their favorite armchairs, and let out dual groans of relief. There was a drawn out silence for a time, the strain of the day draining into their comfy seats.

“Papa…” Robin’s voice finally broke the quiet. No response.

“Papa...light the fire...it’s cold.” She waited and listened for his reply, but nothing came. She lifted her head, a sudden wave of worry washing over her, “Papa??” and then she heard the snoring. Smiling and falling back into her chair, she shook her head. No one could fall asleep faster than her Papa. Sighing, she gathered her resolve and pulled herself to her feet. She really should be used to this by now.

A few minutes later the fire was crackling away in the hearth. Robin had returned to her chair, but not before changing into a periwinkle nightgown and retrieving one of her favorite books. Papa was still asleep right where she left him, although a certain feline had decided to make a bed of his lap. Mr. Fluffles gave her a cold glance as she sat down, then curled up again, clearly doing his best to show he was still displeased with her. She smiled, and got up from her seat one more time. Gone just a few moments, she returned with a small rectangular can of rather smelly fish.

As soon as she pulled open the lid, the cat’s ears perked up, and in seconds he was on the ground chewing happily on his treat. She pet him on the head, to which he only swayed his tail, and she finally slid back into her armchair, opening her book.

“See? I didn't forget.” She said softly to the purring feline.

Hours passed and Robin whittled the night away in a world of salty sea air, high-stakes adventure, and romance. The story of a strong and courageous princess who worked to restore her kingdom and regain her crown filled her with wonder and the incredible urge to see the world beyond this sleepy mountain town. She could only imagine what it was like to feel a breeze that didn’t bite at her cheeks and nose, or run barefoot outside through lush green grass. The idea of a romantic adventure in a coastal kingdom, or even just the notion of a body of water bigger than a river was nothing more than a fairy tale to her. It was these kind of lofty fantasies that carried her to sleep that night, curled up in front of the flames.

It was quite some time before Papa stirred. He rubbed his face, groaning a little as he pulled himself out of his armchair. Mr. Fluffles let out a disquieted meow when he was unceremoniously dumped on the floor; having returned to his master's lap once his anchovy can was licked clean. Harold, unfortunately, had no idea the cat was there at all until it was too late. Leaning heavily on his foxhead cane, he turned to see Robin, sound asleep in her own chair. A book lay open on the floor beneath dangling fingers that were far too drowsy to hold on. Smiling, he retrieved a blanket from the nearby rocking chair and covered her gently with it, then stooped to pick up the book. Placing it on the nearby nightstand, he took a moment to watch the sleeping girl’s peaceful features.

He found it hard to believe that it had been fourteen years already since she had entered his life. Like a lost puppy, she was cold, alone, and confused with nowhere to go and an understandable distrust of strangers. But she had turned into a fine young woman now, full of life and joy, and he felt his heart swell with pride that he could claim some responsibility for that. Old as he was, he was convinced that it was Robin’s presence in his life that had kept him going for so long. If asked, he would readily profess that it was not he who saved her on that snowy evening so long ago, but she that had saved him.

Yawning, he pulled out his pocketwatch, and when he popped it open, his smile grew to a grin: It was after midnight. Quietly, he moved up alongside Robin and leaned down, giving her a gentle kiss on top of her head.

“Happy birthday, lass…” He whispered. She didn’t stir, and he wasn’t about to wake her from the dreams dancing through her mind. So, with a stretch that resulted in several worrisome popping noises from his spine, he made his way up the stairs to his own bedroom, more than ready to join Robin in slumberland.

---

Blood.

It stained the snow all around her a deep crimson once more. The full moon hung heavy in the sky above, looming closer than she’d ever seen it before. Bodies littered the ground all around her, and she’d been here enough times to know that it was she who’d left them there. She looked down, and again saw not feet, but canine paws, dyed red from their bloody deeds. Her eyes stung with tears unbidden and she glanced around in frustration. Why was she here again?! What was the purpose of making her relive this nightmare over and over?! Before she could stop it, she let out a mournful howl to the sky. The sound rang through the trees, echoing in the silence. Somehow, it filled her with a strange sense of relief. The pain in her heart was eased a little...but that’s when she heard it.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The drumbeat of a racing heart filled her ears. Her feet moved on their own. She struggled to resist, but it was no use. The sound of a living being was calling to her, and she had to answer it. She was a reaper of death; an acolyte of Viscra now. She screamed and pleaded for her limbs to stop. She begged for control. But every other instinct in her body drew her forward to the cowering form in the snow. Her enhanced senses allowed her to hear everything: Their short, gasping breaths, the blood spurting from several large wounds, even the uncontrollable chattering of their teeth--though she wondered if it was the cold, the pain, or the fear.

She towered over the figure, jaws dripping with blood from her previous victims. Then, suddenly, a voice rang through the morbid silence all around her.

“Well look next time...your mind’s aiming to tell you something, girl…”

Her heart skipped a beat. It was Papa...his voice in this scene of hopelessness filled her with a longing she couldn't describe. She would give anything to wake up from this nightmare and return to his loving embrace...but she knew what she had to do. Lifting a paw, she reached forward, pulling the wounded human over onto their back. She then moved to one side, letting the moonlight reach the person’s face.

“No…” She breathed, her body going numb.

“No!” It can't be! Eyes wide, hot tears spilling into the snow below, she could feel her heart shatter in her chest. Her mind was buzzing and it felt like her lungs were three sizes too small. She shook her head, blinking furiously and taking several steps backwards.

“No no no…” She repeated endlessly, refusing to believe what she was seeing. The face in the snow, the last person alive in her dream...the one that she'd killed mercilessly so many times before…

“Robin…” Papa whispered hoarsely. She found herself terrified at the fact that he spoke to her now, and shame engulfed her heart. He shouldn't be seeing her like this--a cold-blooded murderer! She continued to shake her head in disbelief, backing away further as the old man lifted a trembling hand toward her.

“Robin...I’m so sorry…” His words seemed to echo in her ears. Closing her eyes, she stood there, shaking and sobbing. But the longer she remained there, the more she could hear it. The drumbeat…

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Viscra was calling again. He would not be denied...every struggled beat of Papa’s heart beckoned her to do what had to be done. Crying openly, she pled within herself not to do it. Just wake up! Wake up before--

Her feet began to move.

“No!!” She screams, but it was no use. This body--the body of a wolf--it was not hers to control. It belonged to him...and he would have blood. Screaming and pleading, she approached the dying form of the person she loved most in the world...her beloved Papa. Her paw lifts, displaying long, bloody, razor-sharp claws.

The drumbeat stops.

---

Papa had scarcely laid down, it seemed, when he heard the noise. At first he almost dismissed it, but as he enhanced his senses he could be sure of it. The creak of a window, the familiar scrape of claws on wood, and then, the unmistakable hushed whispers.

He bolted up in bed, ignoring the complaints of his tired old bones, and found himself face to face with a large gray wolf. Two more were just creeping through his doorway when he rose, and they froze in their tracks, perhaps hoping he hadn’t seen them.

“Evenin’, Harry.” The gray wolf said, baring his teeth in an almost comical-looking smile. “Been a while, mate.”

“I thought I made it clear that you were to leave me be, Seamus.” Papa growled, getting out of his bed. The other two wolves tensed at his movement, but Seamus just laughed.

“Oh, right. Somethin’ about bein’ a ‘lone wolf’ now, was it? Wantin’ to die in peace or some nonsense?” The gray wolf, Seamus, turned to the other two, “This old codger thinks he can just up and leave his pack! Ain't he a riot?” The two wolves looked at each other as Seamus began laughing, nervously laughing along with him.

“Listen…’Papa’...the Alpha may have let you go, but many of us still see you as a traitor…” Seamus lowered his voice near the end to a deadly growl, then his expression immediately brightened. “But that's not why we're here mate!” The gray wolf urged the other two to come to his side with his snout, circling them as he spoke.

“See...somethin’ happened in this town today...a murder. A’course, you may not see it that way, do you, brother? You're so comfortable on two legs that I bet you don't even remember his name, do ya?” Seamus continued, and Papa stiffened. It had been a long time, but he could feel his muscles changing position slowly, his body strengthening.

“What was his name, Anna?” Seamus asked, nudging a wolf with light brown fur and dark markings around her eyes. She was much younger than any of them, and barely looked comfortable in her fur.

“...t’was Bartholomew, Seamus...s-sir.” Anna replied.

“Remember ‘ole Barty, Harry?” Seamus barked, “The wolf who taught not just me, but many other pups just like young Anna here what it means to be a wolf??” The gray beast lunged toward Papa, but he didn't flinch. His voice was a threatening growl again as he added, “The one you used to call brother?”

“I didn't forget Barty…” Papa replied in a low voice.

“O’ really now?? Then maybe I imagined it when you stood by and watched him die? Didn't even lift a paw to help your best mate…that's cold, brother.” Seamus clicked his tongue as he moved behind the other two wolves.

“Anna, you wouldn't let Lyla get shanked right before yer eyes, would’ya?” Seamus asked.

“N-no of course not! ...s-sir.” She responded, and the wolf next to her with a beautiful red-brown fur coat rolled her eyes.

“And why is that?” Seamus completed his circle around the pair.

“W-well because she's my sis, sir.”

“Her sister! Her flesh and blood! And yet Harry here let someone he knew as a brother get strung up and killed like a wild hog right in front’a him!” The gray wolf spat. “Lyla, what would the Alpha do if you did somethin’ like that?” The older female wolf looked down, bitter fear in her eyes.

“He would kill me.”

Seamus let those words hang in the air, smirking at the old man before him.

“But lucky for Harry, he isn't part of our pack anymore, is he? So he gets to get away with being a traitorous two-legged fleshbag.” Papa stared Seamus down as he spoke, his brow furrowed deeply. The younger wolves glared at the old man.

“So instead,” the gray wolf continued, “we are here to ask for his help. The people of this town will pay for Bartholomew's sacrifice. Our forces are gathered, and the Alpha is giving you a chance for redemption, Harry. Help us take their blood to pay for his, and appease the thirst of Viscra, and all will be forgiven.” Seamus locked gazes with Papa for a moment of tense silence.

“And if I refuse?” Papa asked, though he was fairly sure of the answer.

“Then you die with the rest of them.” Seamus said, bloodlust dripping from his words, “but not before we flay that pup o’ yours downstairs...right in front of you.”

“You leave the girl out of this!” Papa hissed, but Seamus just turned toward the door. Papa’s cane clattered to the ground, and suddenly the doorway was filled with the massive form of a large wolf. He was bigger than all of them, and clearly used to have a pelt of pure black fur, though age had left it more white and gray than anything else.

“I won't let you kill these innocent people, Seamus. And you are going nowhere near my daughter.” Papa seethed, baring his fangs. The two younger wolves were gazing wide-eyed at the beast he had become, but Seamus just smiled.

“N’ I suppose you think you can stop me, ya old mutt?” He sneered. Before the behemoth that used to be the old man could respond, a howl pierced the night air outside. Both Lyla and Anna’s ears perked, and they stood up straighter, looking towards the source of the call. Seamus let loose with a loud howl of his own, with which the two females joined their own voices, and he grinned and laughed at Papa.

“It's already begun, old dog. That's the call of the wild, mate! No wolf can resist it! This is your last chance to turn your back on these weak lambs and rejoin your brethren.” He offered, but Papa remained steadfast, glaring down at him in the doorway.

“Going once…” Seamus said. Papa continued to leer in silence, “going twice…” still nothing, but then…

“Papa...?”

The old wolf’s eyes widened, and he turned, revealing a young girl with snow white hair and blue eyes gazing at him in horror.

“Robin...I…” His tongue tripped over his words. She shook her head in disbelief, taking a few steps back.

“Y-You’re...Papa, you’re one of them??” She asked, tears already building in her eyes.