“Are you all right?”

“I don’t know.” Robin squeezed his eyes shut and flexed his fingers around the earth by his seat. He then peered up at the sky. The crowns of foliage settled against a deepening velvet expanse. “It’s not a full moon out.”

The beast shook his head, pointed ears flapping. “It doesn’t work like that.” He stopped his pacing in front of Robin. “Thanks for the assistance back there. You didn’t get hurt in the fight, did you?”

Robin touched his fingers together. “I think I have a few splinters, but I’m good.”

“All right, give me a moment to collect myself and we can talk elsewhere.”

Robin pressed his back hard into the tree, a mast of safety in a world turned upside down. Before him, the beast resumed pacing. He huffed and panted in a deliberate rhythm as he flexed and stretched in a routine exercise. The fleeing daylight did little to distinguish what Robin saw and what he thought he saw. The inhuman parts peeled away from the beast and he shrunk to his previous size. After a few blinks, Robin saw the outline of a whole man again.

In any other instance, his nudity would have rattled the young man. However, the sight of the pale human form came as a pleasant salve after what he had just witnessed. Robin released a deep breath.

“I doubt your night sight is very good seeing how you need help during the day.”

Scrunching his nose, Robin absentmindedly touched the arm of his glasses. “And?”

“So keep close if you don’t want to get lost in the woods,” the older man said before walking to his first piece of discarded clothing.

Amazed he could stand without his head spinning, Robin stilled his quivering knees. Ahead of him, Dusty tugged his shirt over his head.

“See I take off my clothes as I turn. Otherwise, ripped clothing comes off as suspicious.”

Robin wasn’t sure he needed the explanation, but he appreciated the banter as his brain continued to digest the situation. His feet fell on air, his head still not back to earth. He had been hoping for an uneventful sojourn. It was all planned out, as one would a business trip, only now instead of being on a plane to a pencil-pusher’s conference, he was in Antarctica. It was a place somewhat familiar from shows and materials he had read, and yet it was completely alien in person.

Shows, movies, and books. Robin forced his thoughts on everything he had seen and heard about werewolves. Perhaps taking a scholarly approach could reconcile this revelation, parsing fact from fiction. A small part of him was curious, after all. Amid the terror of bearing witness and the ledge of implications that could crumble away to reveal more shocking truths, his inquisitiveness shone brightly in the dark sea of unknowns. He had one bit to ruminate over. The moon did not govern the transformation.

“You won’t turn me, will you?”

“No.”

“A-are you going to take me to your pack?”

“No. And we don’t call them packs. Family you mean? No to that too.”

“Uh, sorry.”

“Look, the woods aren’t the best place to talk.”

Robin agreed and kept silent. It was best not to cross the older man now that he knew what he was capable of. However, he was almost sure his hammering heart would be audible to werewolves and humans alike.

A pool of artificial light marked the border of civilization. The cold illumination from the restaurant’s evening floodlight outshone the neon sign, and it had no competition from the disengaged squad car. Dusty slowed his pace, observing the exterior of the building from afar.

He turned his face to Robin and murmured, “So … you got some place to be?”

Robin tried to peer beyond the remaining trees and the glare of the restaurant, but he could not see anything. “I was hoping to check into a motel or something.”

“There’s one in town. The rest are a few miles out next to the highway.”

“Whatever is closest to the bus station will do.”

“I’ll give you a lift.”

Robin held pause. It was a generous offer, however, caution blared in his ears. Then again, the rest of the individuals he had met this evening were of worse repute, and wandering around the town at night where he had already made a bad impression would be an open invitation for trouble.

“Okay, thanks,” Robin whispered, a queue of “I told you so’s” already forming in his mind to admonish his future self.

“Hold on there,” said Dusty. He crept a few feet closer to the restaurant, his head swiveling for a complete survey. “Looks like the officer is busy with the idiots inside. Coast is clear. My truck’s on the near side, the orange one.”

Following his lead again, Robin scuttled after Dusty to the passenger side of the truck he had indicated. It was a refurbished classic model from the ‘70s, though Robin had little time to appreciate the details. Finding the door unlocked, he tossed his backpack onto the bench seat. Robin tucked himself squarely between his bag and the door as Dusty started the truck.

Pulling out of the spot, they noticed the scene illuminated in the restaurant window. Jared and his cohorts sat around a table with an officer. He sprang up just as the orange truck turned toward the main road.

No sooner had the truck gained speed than it began to rain. Dusty switched on the windshield wipers. While most would be dismayed, the weather promised a cleanse of the evening. The deep squeaks brought some normalcy back into Robin’s world, and the roll of the truck helped pacify his heart. In a soothing reel, the world continued on, banal as ever.

“I’m Robin, by the way.”

“Dustin Tedesco,” said the older man, keeping his eyes ahead, “or just Dusty, as you heard it.”

Robin watched the road before them melt into a dark veil of rain. “Y-you didn’t have to step up like that.”

“What Jared was doing wasn’t right. I get you’re a bit different, but so am I. ‘Sides, I’ve gotten into bar fights over pettier reasons.”

“I didn’t think good Samaritans still existed.”

“And just this morning you didn’t think werewolves ever existed.”

Robin almost laughed. “You got me there.”