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           Bright sunlight shone through the window and onto my closed eyes. I awoke, blinked a few times, then sat up. It's amazing what a little good rest can do for a person; no matter how bad something is, a couple hours of sleep has a way of making it all feel so distant. In fact, I didn't feel half bad despite yesterday; the only real difference from any other morning was an intense hunger similar to when I first regained consciousness yesterday after being shot, and my missing hand which, to my amazement, had already started to regrow. Even my missing teeth had all come back in.

           I simply sat there for a few minutes just enjoying the feeling of air moving solidly in and out of my lungs, blood flowing through my veins, and the warm sun filtering through the trees by the window onto my fur  I heard birds singing out in the trees, and mom bustling around in the kitchen. I smiled in spite of myself and sighed contentedly.  It was hard to imagine that I'd been so close to death only hours ago. Who were those guys that shot me? How did they know I was going to be where I was? Either way, I was safe and secure at home now. The experience made me so much more aware of how precious life is and how thankful I was for just being alive, and I howled that fact mentally as loud as I could to the world in general.

            chuckled a familiar, telepathic voice.

I greeted Em's mom who I could feel was close by.

           I could hear the smile reflected in her mental reply.



            she laughed.





            I said with emotion in my telepathic voice.



             After that, I got no response and noticed that I could sense her moving rapidly from the house and towards the south.

           I got out of bed and noticed all the dried blood and dirt smeared on the sheets. I shuddered to think all that mess had come from me, and then headed to the bathroom to shower and clean myself up. After shifting back to my human form and getting dressed in some shorts and a T-shirt, I headed to the kitchen where my mom had been busy making waffles and eggs with loads of sausages. My stomach growled so loudly that even she noticed and turned to look. As soon as she saw me her face lit up in a smile and she ran over and embraced me tightly. I hugged her back with one arm, the other hanging gingerly at my side.

           "Oh Seth! I'm so glad to see you on your feet again! I made you an extra big breakfast; Emmalee's Father said you'd be pretty hungry until your hand was healed."

"Yeah, thanks. I'm starving!"

           I sat down on a barstool at the counter and piled two plates full of mostly sausage but taking decent portions of the waffles and eggs too. I wolfed everything down and filled a third plate before I was finally full. Dad came down right about then.

           "How're you doing son? Looks like you're feeling better from yesterday?"
I agreed that I was, so he sighed in relief and grabbed his clubs, letting us know on the way out the door that he was going out to the driving range to hit a few balls. He wasn't very good at it, but I knew from experience that dad only went golfing when he'd been under a lot of stress and was looking to unwind.
"He stayed in your room all night watching you to make sure you were okay. It was only an hour ago that he came back upstairs to try and get some sleep." I wanted to call him, but knowing dad I thought better of it; with him it was best to just let him handle this in his own way.

           I thanked my mom again for breakfast, then went to the sink and rinsed off my plates. I noticed my phone on the other side of the counter on top of my wallet where I'd left it yesterday. I grabbed it and checked for messages, there was a text from Em, "I hope you're doing okay pup; I love you and am praying for you. If you need anything just let me know!"

           I responded that I loved her too, thanked her again for saving me, and let her know I talked to her mom a few minutes ago and that she'd probably be back soon. I waited a few minutes for a response, but since there was none I figured she must still be asleep, and with reason.

           "Mom, where do we keep the extra sheets?" I called to where she was now upstairs. "I need to get new ones on my bed, preferably not white this time…" It was hard to do everything one-handed; I found myself using my knees (and sometimes even my head) to hold down corners of the sheets to attach the last side; but I wanted to do it on my own without any help just to see if I could.

           It was strange to watch my lower arm regrow over the next 72 hours; if anybody but the werewolves that checked on me from time to time or my parents had seen it, they would have freaked out for sure! At first, the two bones in my forearm elongated back to their normal size, pushing out the skin as they did. From there, my carpals and metacarpals reformed, surrounded by blood vessels which were visible under the skin, completing the basic shape of my hand. After that, there was a steady, visible thickening as the tendons and muscles finally returned. My arm had completely regenerated. What a relief! After several days of exercising the new, weaker muscles that were almost disproportionate to those of my healthy arm, it felt as good as new, like it had never been missing.

           During that time, the house was a regular wolf's den. Em's family and Officer Powell  from the other neighboring werewolf pack would be coming and going at all hours, and Mom would always have a fresh slab of meat or a drink of water at the ready. Officer Powell's photos were pretty vivid; the areas where I'd fallen down the embankment and was shot in the clearing were covered in dried blood and tufts of fur. He'd also done a lot of sniffing around, but besides a few scattered military-grade shotgun shells which lacked a single fingerprint and impact marks from the .50 caliber rounds, there wasn't enough information to discover the perpetrators.

           About a week had gone by without a single trace of anyone else coming back, so the patrols were reduced to every other night, and then stopped all together. I'd started going out again, but only in my truck, on major roads in the main city during busy times of the day, and with at least one other person (usually Emmalee) there with me. I was beginning to get restless from spending so little time out of doors, but until Em's mom gave the all clear, I still had to stay off the mountain just to be safe.

One night about 3 weeks from the attack, I was upstairs in the family room playing a racing game on my Xbox 360. I hadn't been able to at first without my other hand, but now that it had grown back I was able to play again. I used to play Call of Duty online and do pretty well because of my fast reaction times, but since I'd recognized two of the weapons in the game as ones I'd actually been shot with, I'd gotten queasy, immediately losing interest and trading it in for a tamer game instead. I rarely played videogames anyway, I much preferred being outside. I wanted to be away on the mountain pretty badly right now in fact. I sighed and tossed down the controller before heading downstairs again to get ready for bed.

           I stood in the shower for a long time to let the steaming water calm my nerves. I normally showered in the morning but I was itching to go out hunting again and needed something to distract me. Once all the hot water was gone, I turned off the water and stepped out of the tub. I dried myself with a towel and moved to wrap it around me, but then on a whim I paused, then tossed it into the laundry basket instead. I shifted into my anthro wolf form, shook the remaining water droplets from my fur, dried off the mirror the best I could, then opened the door and stooped low to fit through the frame. Still uneasy about the events of a few weeks ago, I wanted to be ready just in case someone came during the night (unlikely as that was). I walked by my dad who was watching TV, his nightly ritual before turning in at the end of the day.

           "Seth I-" he cut short and blinked. I stopped to look down at him and shrugged my heavy shoulders casually.

           "What?" I said deeply.

           "Oh, nothing.  Just wasn't expecting you to be in that form is all."

           He paused the DVR and took the opportunity to look me up and down. That's when I noticed that he appeared older and more worn out than I remembered, probably from worrying about me, I thought to myself guiltily.

           "I know I tell you this all the time, but geez you're getting big! I guess I haven't seen you in this form a whole lot for the last while, but you must be 8 feet tall by now! I'm proud of you; you're getting to be quite the man. I know you've gone through a lot of different things growing up, things I never had to go through, but I think you've come out just fine. I know I've made a lot of mistakes and was never as good a father as your werewolf father would have been, but I've done my best to be a good dad for you. I hope I've done ok." His voice cracked a bit as he ended.

           It was my turn to be taken off guard; besides mentioning how big I was, he rarely talked about things like this.

           "Aww dad, of course you have."

           I strode across the room and picked him gently out of his recliner in a big wolf hug.

           "You're the best dad a guy could ask for. Anyone else would have left me to the wolves years ago," I said half jokingly.  He hugged me back, his arms barely reaching each of my shoulder blades.

           "I love you son; fur and all."

           "I love you too dad." I set him gently back down on his recliner, and began to walk back towards my room once more.

           "Oh, Seth." I stopped to turn my head and look back over my shoulder. "Sports Center's on, just wondering if you wanted to catch the highlights with me?"

           "Well, I would, but you know how the plasma screen doesn't refresh fast enough and gives me a headache if I watch with these eyes for too long."

           "You could always change back?"

           "Nah, something doesn't feel right and I just wanted to make sure I was ready in case someone came for me again. Plus, I'm going to bed early tonight since I'm not able to go hunting."

           "Well, I don't think anything's going to happen," he said, gesturing to the handgun concealed in his waistband, "but I understand if you want to get to sleep early. 'Night son."

           "G'night."

           I turned again and walked to my room, taking care that my claws didn't scratch the wood floor. I closed the door behind me and dropped onto the bed back first, but lightly so as not to break the frame. Even though it was an extra long California King mattress, my digitigrade legs still hung down off the end of the bed where my knees started. I wasn't as comfortable on a mattress as I would have been in human form, but it would have to do. Feeling a bit toasty, I slid open the window and slotted the blinds a bit to allow the soft summer breeze to rustle my short summer fur and cool down the room, then settled on top of the sheets for a peaceful night sleep.

           Sometime later, I woke up not knowing why. Had I heard something? I perked my ears without opening my eyes; nothing. I cracked an eyelid and glanced at my clock to find it was just after midnight. I tried to just go back to sleep, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I sat up groggily on the edge of my bed and rested my head in my paws, elbows propped on my knees.

           My ears swiveled on their own accord this time as I heard a quick movement immediately followed by the sound of shattering glass directly behind me. Fully awake now, I immediately jolted from my bed, twisting around while jumping backwards to both give myself distance from, and face the direction of, the sound. As I landed on 3 paws with one hand out behind me for balance, a heavy, weighted chain net landed on my bed as 4 men in black tactical gear jumped into the dark room and started unloading silenced, automatic rounds into the mattress where they must have thought I was still lying. Padding and shredded bits of cloth flew in every direction, but they hadn't yet noticed I was missing.  My "flight" instinct kicking in, I jumped cleanly out the window they'd just destroyed, smashing into the closest two figures on my way out and sending them flying into the wall. I was startled again when I ran into 5 more people in the same tactical gear waiting outside; I ended up knocking over two more as I landed, then took off towards the trees as the last three started spraying silenced gunfire erratically as I retreated.

           I hadn't been scared from that first episode out in the woods, more angry than anything. This time though, it was different; they'd brought the fight to my safe haven, to my home. How did they even find me? My instincts and human mind told me that until I knew what I was dealing with, I needed to get some distance between myself and the threat to assess the situation.

           Once I got far enough into the trees that the gunfire stopped, I circled back towards the other side of the house and stopped to take a look while still hidden in the trees. They all must have been moving without a sound until the initial attack, a hard feat for humans; they probably had a lot of training. Despite the low light, my eyes revealed more people securing the front and back doors as well as several of the windows, and sniffing the breeze, I was able to pick up and process the scents of each individual soldier. Many were determined, but the smell of fear also hung thick in the air. Only one carried the scent of being calm and collected; I compared his size against the leader I'd seen in the Jeep before, but this guy was far too toned and muscular to be the same guy. I also noticed several black armored troop transport vehicles down the street; they must have parked far enough away that I wouldn't notice all the engines stopping as they arrived at the house. I crept stealthily closer to try and figure out a way to get to my parents, and that's when I noticed a strange, smoky haze billowing from their window.

           Now that I had the situation sized up, I was starting to get angry again. They better not have done anything to my parents! I sprinted stealthily back towards my house on all fours and grabbed the men closest to the windows by their heads, throwing them into the trees with enough force to knock them cold, but not kill them. I knew they were just pawns being used by whoever was in charge, and even though they were trying to take my life, they were probably just following orders after all. I jumped up to the second story window and managed to claw and scrabble my way in through the opening. The floor and gave an ominous creak as I dropped down inside; I never went upstairs in this form for a reason. I choked as the fog hit my lungs; I could still see the canisters lying on the carpet. They used gas to knock out my parents, and this stuff was potent! But why would they want to do that? I figured it must have been to keep them from waking up and trying to do anything rash to stop them from hurting me again as I spotted dad's untouched gun on his nightstand. I made sure not to breathe in too much as I grabbed them both and slung one over each shoulder. Good thing they had a big window; I slid it open the rest of the way to give myself more room and jumped back to the ground with a light thud, using my knees to absorb most of the impact to make sure my parents weren't jostled too much.

           I was about to make my way back out to the trees when I noticed something didn't seem right in the open dog run. Koda hadn't made a sound during any of this, and I could see his limp body in the back of the cage. As I got closer to look, I saw a rope cinched tightly around his neck, and could hear that his heart had stopped beating. NO!

           "The target's at the back, north-east corner of the structure and has kidnapped 2 civilians!" I heard someone yell. Silenced sniper fire started raining down all around me splintering the wooden side of the house. No time to mourn the loss of my pet, I pulled my parents down in front of my body to shield them from bullets and turned tail to run back in the direction I'd come.

           In addition to the now familiar biting pieces of hot lead, I grunted as half a dozen pinpricks hit my skin in various places. I glanced over my shoulder to see little puffs where my fur had suddenly turned pink. Wait, that wasn't my fur, those were tassels from a tranquilizer gun! Since I had no time to stop and remove them, and since both hands were tied up with keeping my parents safe anyway, I rubbed up against trees and bushes as I went, and did manage to wipe most of them off. I could feel my body starting to slow a bit as they took effect, but my metabolism was so fast that I was able to keep going without too much additional effort.  I continued on, bullets whizzing by. 3 shots grazed my cheeks and one even managed to go straight through my right ear. I hissed in pain and let out a growl. It almost seemed like they wanted to make sure not to hit my parents; I could see they were using scoped rifles and bipods so as to be more accurate and were aiming mostly for my head.

           It was a bit harder to run while carrying two people; I would have been faster if I'd been able to use 4 legs and not just two, but I was still going much faster than any person could have. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew we had to get away from the house. I yelled out over and over in my mind that I'd been attacked again in the rare chance that someone was listening, but I doubted anyone heard.

           I thought I was in the clear, but after a minute or two of running, the approaching sound of two-stroke engines-dirtbikes by the sound of it-broke the silence behind me. I probably would have been able to outrun them with four paws on this terrain, but since I only had 2 legs to work with at the moment I decided to veer to the right for a hundred yards and then stop abruptly so they'd just zoom past me. Instead of continuing in the same direction though, I listened in confusion they adjusted course and started heading right towards me again! But how? It was too dark to see any footprints, and even if it wasn't I'd been making sure to avoid stepping in bare dirt. How were they able to track me so easily?

           I figured I'd start off and try again, this time cutting to the left and stopping to use mostly my hind paws to climb two parallel trees until I was about 10 feet off the ground, using one hand to keep myself stable and using the remaining one to hold my parents secure. And yet, I heard them turn and change their trajectory right back towards me again! Quickly running out of options, I decided to run flat out as fast as my two paws could take me back towards the lines of houses. At one point I caught a scent trail of Emmalee's brother John. It was an old trail that must have been back from when they were still running circuits to guard my house. Not really having any plan besides trying to get somewhere safe so I could try and figure something out, I followed the trail hoping to find some place to hide.

           They kept getting closer and closer until headlights broke through the trees and shone directly on me. At that point they opened up with sniper fire once again, and this time were surprisingly even more accurate than before. Several shots hit me directly in the calf causing me to stumble into several small saplings and knock them to the ground; I almost dropped my precious load. Still others went straight into my neck, tearing up the vocal cords in my throat and causing me to cough up blood. That did it.

           If I'd still had functioning vocal cords I would have roared out; as it was I whirled and ran straight back towards the 4 oncoming lights, causing them all to charge straight past, buying me time to lay my parents down safely behind a group of pines. I coughed again, and felt hot metal shards scratch my throat and enter my mouth where I spit them to the ground. I ran back towards the bikes that had started to turn around, this time with the speed of four legs. Dodging more shots, I reared up on my hind legs and stuck out both arms, closelining the riders on either side from the two closest bikes which went crashing off into the undergrowth. Turns out one on each bike had been driving and the other shooting. I grabbed the rifle from one of the fallen rider's unconscious hands.

           The remaining bikers had started to turn back around once more.  Since the trigger guards weren't large enough to admit my big fingers, I used my claw tips to pull the trigger, firing repeatedly in their direction (missing intentionally), the recoil absorbed by my strong arms as I fired over and over in an attempt to throw them off course and separate them, which worked. I then chased after the closest dirt bike until I got near enough to throw the rifle like a javelin straight into the front spokes, sending both riders flying head over heels. The last two had given up and were presumably trying to get back to their group at my house, but in a few quick strides I caught up and ran alongside them, body-slamming the bike to send the riders flying roughly to the ground.

           Instead of going quiet again however, the trees still rang with the sound of one last engine I hadn't noticed before. There was no headlight on that bike, but I could see and hear well enough that it didn't matter. I noticed the rider was the same calm, muscular guy I'd seen back at my house, and that he was wearing a pair of night vision goggles. Once he noticed I was looking in his direction, he pulled a large revolver from his leg holster and revved the throttle with his other hand a couple times before tearing out of there. I took off in hot pursuit, but this driver seemed a bit more experienced than the others. Just when I seemed to be getting close enough to grab him, he'd pull a tight 90 degree turn right in front of some obstacle that was too big to jump or too dense to tear straight through and I'd have to stop and maneuver around it. This happened several times, me getting more and more frustrated, until we came to an opening in the trees I recognized.

           Knowing an opportunity when I saw one, I put on an extra burst of speed and was about to jump when he fired a shot straight through my shoulder. Fortunately the rider lost his balance when he took the shot and hit a tree, but this shot was nothing like any of the others I'd taken. Pain bit my shoulder deeper than I'd ever felt before. Usually, even with gunshot wounds, my body would have immediately start to knit and close. This one didn't seem to be doing that. It just continued to bleed and burn with pain. Not used to the sensation, I struggled not to lose consciousness as I made my way to where the rider who'd shot me had crashed.

           As I approached, it was apparent he was pinned under his bike which was leaking gasoline and oil onto his clothing. With one hand he was trying to free himself, and with the other he was desperately trying to reach his revolver which had been flung several feet away. The heat of the engine on the flammable liquid must have been too much; the bike burst into flames, immediately lighting his clothes on fire as well. His eyes widened for a split second before he started to scream. I wasn't really sure what made me do it, but I decided that even he shouldn't die this way and moved the bike off from on top of him, patting out the flames with my large paws as I did.

           His night vision goggles must have fallen off; I got a clear look at his face for the first time. Once the fire was out he said nothing, only looked at me with an expression of shock and gratitude then collapsed, unconscious. I looked down at my still bleeding shoulder and licked at the wound a bit before retrieving the large revolver from the forest floor. I wanted to make sure and keep it in case there was something special in the bullets that had caused my still unhealing wound.

           Now that the forest was quiet again, I was able to pick up the more subtle sounds again and jogged back to retrieve my parents. As I ran on, I heard sounds of struggling to my side near another of the bikes. I skidded to a stop and crouched down on all fours right over a rider that was still conscious, lifting his face to mine by the front of his shirt. I noticed a flashlight on his combat vest, and clicked it on so he got a full look at me. Also, in case the appearance of my claws and fangs didn't faze him, I'd use something he did understand. I cocked the hammer back on the revolver I was carrying and pointed it threateningly at his face.

           "Who are you, and why are you after me?" I rasped roughly around my healing throat wound in as menacing a tone as I could manage. He only looked back at me with an expression of horror, grabbing my hand where I held his shirt and saying nothing. I turned the gun to shoot off into the trees, causing him to jump, then pressed it back into his forehead. I asked again, and this time he spoke.

           "I-I-I… all they told us is that in this mission some kind of monster was holding two civilians captive, and that we were going to go take it out and save them." The scent of urine was suddenly strong on the air; he'd wet himself.

           "Some kind of monster?" I growled. "Is that really all you think I am? What's your name and who are you working for?"

           "S-s-specialist S-stevens of the US Marines. I report to commander… I really shouldn't say…" I snarled and brought his face even closer to mine; he actually let out a pitiful whimper and screwed his eyes shut.

           "Commander Harper! I report to commander H-h-" at that he passed out cold with a deep exhale.

           Commander Harper, huh? I was going to have to do some digging. I dropped Stevens roughly to the ground, grabbed the nearest motorcycle that was still intact, and walked it over to where my parents were still laying unconscious. I shifted back to human form so I could fit on the bike, and as I did, the rest of the bullet fragments and all but one of the remaining darts fell from my skin, a thicker, heavier shaft staying stuck in my left side. I tried to pull it out, but found that it was barbed and embedded pretty deeply. I gritted my teeth, exhaled heavily, then grabbed and tore the dart from my back. Still lacking a healed throat, my gasp of pain came out as a heavy, rasping intake of air.  I held it up to the light of the motorcycle's headlight, and in addition to the bits of flesh it had torn loose I noticed a small, glass-covered satellite transmitter! So that's how they were tracking me! I cocked my arm back and threw the transmitter as hard as I could out into the brush, wincing at the pain in my shoulder that still refused to heal.

           I went back to steal my dad's pajama pants so I wasn't indecent, stuffing the pistol I was still carrying in the waistband.  By that time my parents were somewhat coming around but still pretty groggy, so I hopped on the motorcycle and helped them sit in front of me (keeping them upright with both arms), revved up the engine, and cut through someone's back yard and onto the road to head in the direction of Em's house.

           Gradually during the course of the trip my parents had regained consciousness. They didn't know anything about what had happened, so I explained as we went. My dad noticed his lack of pants pretty quick with the wind blowing on his undergarments, and when he asked about it I just glanced down at his pants I was now wearing and back to the road; he understood then.

           We must have been a pretty motley sight all crammed on one bike like we were, especially me wearing only too-tight and too-short pajama pants and shifting the gears barefoot. Somehow, when you're speeding and don't want them around, you can always find a cop, and yet now when we legitimately needed one, of course we went the whole trip without seeing a single black and white car. Figures.

           After arriving at Emmalee's house, I revved the engine intentionally loud to get their attention, walked to their front porch while supporting my still weak parents, and rang the doorbell until I heard someone walking inside. Mr. Sorensen slowly cracked open the door, hand behind his back (presumably with some sort of weapon) and answered cautiously with an annoyed expression. Once he saw who it was he opened the door wider and asked what was going on; he was confused to see us at this hour, especially in the odd way I was dressed.

           "They attacked me again. This time they would have had me too, except something kept telling me that things weren't quite right, so I listened and was ready to escape right when I needed to." He brought us inside and locked two deadbolts on the door securely once we'd entered. He quickly grabbed the landline cordless phone and tossed it to me. I winced as I caught it; the wound in my shoulder had reopened again during the drive here causing my upper arm to be slick with blood. All my other wounds had already finished healing several minutes before.

           "Since you had the experience first-hand, I need you to explain to the police exactly what happened."  I nodded and dialed 911, describing in as much detail as I could about what had occurred (but without giving away anything sensitive). As Mr. Sorensen grabbed some medical supplies and checked my parents to make sure they were okay, I reported to the dispatcher that several armed people had broken and entered my house and shot at me (but left out the part where I was actually hit; didn't want to have to explain my fast healing), had used a substance to knock out my parents, and that I'd been able to get my them out safely. I'd recommended they send a swat team in case someone was still there.

           After I hung up, I showed Mr. Sorensen my wound so we could get it bandaged properly. Since there'd never been a need to wrap my own wound before, I struggled for a while before finally giving up and letting him do it. I showed him the revolver; he flicked open the cylinder and took one look at the bullets before proclaiming his conclusion.

           "Silver. Injuries caused by this metal will cause a werewolf heal at the rate a normal human would, and if left inside of your body for too long, it can be fatal."
"Is the bullet still inside my shoulder?" I asked.

           "Believe me, you wouldn't have to ask if it were still inside your body. Fortunately for you, it must have passed all the way through. You weren't hit in a vital spot, but all things considered, you're doing incredibly well for having been shot with a silver bullet." He unzipped a small pocket on his first responder medical kit and withdrew a small package.

"I never thought I'd have to use this," he said opening a sterile envelope which contained a surgical needle and thread. It took 30 stitches to close me up, 15 each on the front and back of my shoulder. "These will have to stay in for a few days at least to make sure your arm is fully repaired. From there I'd be easy on it, but you should be fine to shift after that. The scar will be there for a while, in time it should disappear."

           We were all waiting in the living room for any news from the police; me and Em were holding each other closely on the couch while our parents paced back and forth, sometimes asking me more questions and then conversing amongst themselves. Two officers came by just over an hour later letting us know that when they'd arrived, there was no one in sight and the whole house was in flames. The blaze was so far advanced that firefighters had no chance at saving the structure; our entire home was lost. From what little evidence was left after the fire, they did find blood, several bullet casings scattered around the premises, and motorcycle tracks leading off into the trees. When they came upon the crashed bikes, they found additional bullet casings and blood, but somebody must have come by to recover the unconscious soldiers because nobody was there. Officer Powell even got out of bed to see what he could find; he was able to memorize the scents of the soldiers that had been there and said he'd be on the lookout for them in the city.

           The next day, after the police and FBI had gathered everything they could, we sorted through the remaining rubble. Nothing was left; my old journals, our computers and all their files, mom and dad's wedding pictures and videotapes, financial documents and wallets, all our belongings-everything had been charred beyond recognition or gone up in smoke. I sat on one of the scorched decorative rocks near where the dog run had been and simply stared down at the cement pad for the longest time. Koda had been my dog for even longer than I'd been a werewolf. He'd been my only canine friend until I'm met Emmalee, the one I could truly be myself around because he was happy to see me no matter what form I was in.

           I looked over and noticed my mother crying; in her hands was clutched the charred plastic cover of a small book I recognized as my wolf photo album. I put an arm around her to try and say sorry; I felt like this was all my fault since it was me they were targeting. She only hugged her shoulders tightly and shook her head as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Dad came over to try and comfort her then, and we all ended up standing in the middle of the ashes hugging one another tightly. At least we still had what mattered most.

           Late that same night, it was decided that for my parents' protection, they'd have to leave the state until things cooled down and we got the situation figured out. None of us wolves had to say it, but we all knew they'd be liabilities in the next confrontation that would inevitably happen. Dad protested at first, insisting that he wanted to help protect his only son and get this solved, but eventually we persuaded him it was for the best. Since it was hard to know who to trust and we didn't want to endanger any of our extended family that could be traced, they'd found an old college friend who was happy to let them stay for as long as they needed.

           The police let us know that they'd be keeping what was left of our property on their regular patrol for the next several weeks as well in case anyone came back.  It didn't really matter though; even though the insurance was probably going to cover most of it, for the first time in my life I was homeless, not to mention how devastated my parents were having just made the final mortgage payment 3 months ago.

           It was easy for mom and dad to pack (since there was nothing left to pack), so we all jumped in the Sorensen's white Suburban and headed to the airport to make sure they got on their flight safely. Not wanting to take any chances, we hadn't pre-order tickets online to avoid having them traced to my parent's names and instead paid for them in cash on the spot. It was pricey, but they got the only two remaining tickets to their destination at the last minute.

           We all hugged before they boarded the plane. Once they were on, we waited in the terminal just to be certain the plane got out to the runway. It was taking a while for everyone else to board, so I let Em's family know I was going to use the restroom several terminals down and that I'd be back in 5 minutes.
The men's room was fairly busy as I entered, people were coming and going every few seconds. I'd been in the stall for a minute when I heard someone enter more slowly and deliberately than the rest, then recognized the scent of one of the soldiers that had been at my house! What was I going to do? I no longer had a cell phone to text for help, and shifting in such a public place would definitely cause a general panic.

           Frantic to get in contact with Emmalee immediately and yet keeping my identity undisclosed being a matter of life and death at the moment, I decided to try something I'd never attempted before. Knowing that telepathy felt like it came from somewhere near my temples in my mind, I decided to focus on just shifting that part of my brain to wolf form to see if I could send a message to Emmalee. It was one of the stranger sensations I'd ever felt; it was like a small part of the left side of my brain had suddenly gotten very hot and fluid. Beads of sweat began to form on my forehead, and I had to lean over, bracing my arms on my knees for support. My mind was also telling me in stronger and stronger terms that I was a wolf despite my still being in human form. My tendencies were also getting more and more lupine by the moment; if I didn't stop in a few seconds I'd surely lose control and shift all the way! I called out in desperation while I still could.

            The last word turned into a growl as I was forced to either stop the shift or change completely in a busy airport full of people.

           I wasn't sure if she heard until the restroom started filling with a thick white powder! The whole place was suddenly thrown into chaos and confusion as men were yelling and coughing as they choked on the powder. Knowing this would be my only chance, I burst from the stall and ran back out the entrance to see Mr. Sorensen spraying the fire extinguisher heavily in the air. Once he saw me he locked the valve open, set the still flowing tank on the ground, and grabbed my shoulder to direct me back through the thick crowd towards his wife, John, and Em.

           "Your parents' plane left without a hitch while you were gone. Now we've got to get out of here!" We all ran through the dense crowd as the shouts grew louder behind us, airport security surely arriving at the scene by then. As we rounded a corner we slowed to blend in with the mass of people so as to not attract further attention. All we could do now was generally go with the flow of the crowd and not look suspicious until we got out to the Suburban, and hope he wasn't captured on camera while spraying the extinguisher.

           None of us dared say anything until we were safely on the freeway and the airport was out of sight. Once we got back to the Sorensen's and shut the garage, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully there wouldn't be any more adventures for today.

Description
           Bright sunlight shone through the window and onto my closed eyes. I awoke, blinked a few times, then sat up. It's amazing what a little good rest can do for a person; no matter how bad something is, a couple hours of sleep has a way of making it all feel so distant. In fact, I didn't feel half bad despite yesterday; the only real difference from any other morning was an intense hunger similar to when I first regained consciousness yesterday after being shot, and my missing hand which, to my amazement, had already started to regrow. Even my missing teeth had all come back in.

           I simply sat there for a few minutes just enjoying the feeling of air moving solidly in and out of my lungs, blood flowing through my veins, and the warm sun filtering through the trees by the window onto my fur  I heard birds singing out in the trees, and mom bustling around in the kitchen. I smiled in spite of myself and sighed contentedly.  It was hard to imagine that I'd been so close to death only hours ago. Who were those guys that shot me? How did they know I was going to be where I was? Either way, I was safe and secure at home now. The experience made me so much more aware of how precious life is and how thankful I was for just being alive, and I howled that fact mentally as loud as I could to the world in general.

            chuckled a familiar, telepathic voice.

I greeted Em's mom who I could feel was close by.

           I could hear the smile reflected in her mental reply.



            she laughed.





            I said with emotion in my telepathic voice.



             After that, I got no response and noticed that I could sense her moving rapidly from the house and towards the south.

           I got out of bed and noticed all the dried blood and dirt smeared on the sheets. I shuddered to think all that mess had come from me, and then headed to the bathroom to shower and clean myself up. After shifting back to my human form and getting dressed in some shorts and a T-shirt, I headed to the kitchen where my mom had been busy making waffles and eggs with loads of sausages. My stomach growled so loudly that even she noticed and turned to look. As soon as she saw me her face lit up in a smile and she ran over and embraced me tightly. I hugged her back with one arm, the other hanging gingerly at my side.

           "Oh Seth! I'm so glad to see you on your feet again! I made you an extra big breakfast; Emmalee's Father said you'd be pretty hungry until your hand was healed."

"Yeah, thanks. I'm starving!"

           I sat down on a barstool at the counter and piled two plates full of mostly sausage but taking decent portions of the waffles and eggs too. I wolfed everything down and filled a third plate before I was finally full. Dad came down right about then.

           "How're you doing son? Looks like you're feeling better from yesterday?"
I agreed that I was, so he sighed in relief and grabbed his clubs, letting us know on the way out the door that he was going out to the driving range to hit a few balls. He wasn't very good at it, but I knew from experience that dad only went golfing when he'd been under a lot of stress and was looking to unwind.
"He stayed in your room all night watching you to make sure you were okay. It was only an hour ago that he came back upstairs to try and get some sleep." I wanted to call him, but knowing dad I thought better of it; with him it was best to just let him handle this in his own way.

           I thanked my mom again for breakfast, then went to the sink and rinsed off my plates. I noticed my phone on the other side of the counter on top of my wallet where I'd left it yesterday. I grabbed it and checked for messages, there was a text from Em, "I hope you're doing okay pup; I love you and am praying for you. If you need anything just let me know!"

           I responded that I loved her too, thanked her again for saving me, and let her know I talked to her mom a few minutes ago and that she'd probably be back soon. I waited a few minutes for a response, but since there was none I figured she must still be asleep, and with reason.

           "Mom, where do we keep the extra sheets?" I called to where she was now upstairs. "I need to get new ones on my bed, preferably not white this time…" It was hard to do everything one-handed; I found myself using my knees (and sometimes even my head) to hold down corners of the sheets to attach the last side; but I wanted to do it on my own without any help just to see if I could.

           It was strange to watch my lower arm regrow over the next 72 hours; if anybody but the werewolves that checked on me from time to time or my parents had seen it, they would have freaked out for sure! At first, the two bones in my forearm elongated back to their normal size, pushing out the skin as they did. From there, my carpals and metacarpals reformed, surrounded by blood vessels which were visible under the skin, completing the basic shape of my hand. After that, there was a steady, visible thickening as the tendons and muscles finally returned. My arm had completely regenerated. What a relief! After several days of exercising the new, weaker muscles that were almost disproportionate to those of my healthy arm, it felt as good as new, like it had never been missing.

           During that time, the house was a regular wolf's den. Em's family and Officer Powell  from the other neighboring werewolf pack would be coming and going at all hours, and Mom would always have a fresh slab of meat or a drink of water at the ready. Officer Powell's photos were pretty vivid; the areas where I'd fallen down the embankment and was shot in the clearing were covered in dried blood and tufts of fur. He'd also done a lot of sniffing around, but besides a few scattered military-grade shotgun shells which lacked a single fingerprint and impact marks from the .50 caliber rounds, there wasn't enough information to discover the perpetrators.

           About a week had gone by without a single trace of anyone else coming back, so the patrols were reduced to every other night, and then stopped all together. I'd started going out again, but only in my truck, on major roads in the main city during busy times of the day, and with at least one other person (usually Emmalee) there with me. I was beginning to get restless from spending so little time out of doors, but until Em's mom gave the all clear, I still had to stay off the mountain just to be safe.

One night about 3 weeks from the attack, I was upstairs in the family room playing a racing game on my Xbox 360. I hadn't been able to at first without my other hand, but now that it had grown back I was able to play again. I used to play Call of Duty online and do pretty well because of my fast reaction times, but since I'd recognized two of the weapons in the game as ones I'd actually been shot with, I'd gotten queasy, immediately losing interest and trading it in for a tamer game instead. I rarely played videogames anyway, I much preferred being outside. I wanted to be away on the mountain pretty badly right now in fact. I sighed and tossed down the controller before heading downstairs again to get ready for bed.

           I stood in the shower for a long time to let the steaming water calm my nerves. I normally showered in the morning but I was itching to go out hunting again and needed something to distract me. Once all the hot water was gone, I turned off the water and stepped out of the tub. I dried myself with a towel and moved to wrap it around me, but then on a whim I paused, then tossed it into the laundry basket instead. I shifted into my anthro wolf form, shook the remaining water droplets from my fur, dried off the mirror the best I could, then opened the door and stooped low to fit through the frame. Still uneasy about the events of a few weeks ago, I wanted to be ready just in case someone came during the night (unlikely as that was). I walked by my dad who was watching TV, his nightly ritual before turning in at the end of the day.

           "Seth I-" he cut short and blinked. I stopped to look down at him and shrugged my heavy shoulders casually.

           "What?" I said deeply.

           "Oh, nothing.  Just wasn't expecting you to be in that form is all."

           He paused the DVR and took the opportunity to look me up and down. That's when I noticed that he appeared older and more worn out than I remembered, probably from worrying about me, I thought to myself guiltily.

           "I know I tell you this all the time, but geez you're getting big! I guess I haven't seen you in this form a whole lot for the last while, but you must be 8 feet tall by now! I'm proud of you; you're getting to be quite the man. I know you've gone through a lot of different things growing up, things I never had to go through, but I think you've come out just fine. I know I've made a lot of mistakes and was never as good a father as your werewolf father would have been, but I've done my best to be a good dad for you. I hope I've done ok." His voice cracked a bit as he ended.

           It was my turn to be taken off guard; besides mentioning how big I was, he rarely talked about things like this.

           "Aww dad, of course you have."

           I strode across the room and picked him gently out of his recliner in a big wolf hug.

           "You're the best dad a guy could ask for. Anyone else would have left me to the wolves years ago," I said half jokingly.  He hugged me back, his arms barely reaching each of my shoulder blades.

           "I love you son; fur and all."

           "I love you too dad." I set him gently back down on his recliner, and began to walk back towards my room once more.

           "Oh, Seth." I stopped to turn my head and look back over my shoulder. "Sports Center's on, just wondering if you wanted to catch the highlights with me?"

           "Well, I would, but you know how the plasma screen doesn't refresh fast enough and gives me a headache if I watch with these eyes for too long."

           "You could always change back?"

           "Nah, something doesn't feel right and I just wanted to make sure I was ready in case someone came for me again. Plus, I'm going to bed early tonight since I'm not able to go hunting."

           "Well, I don't think anything's going to happen," he said, gesturing to the handgun concealed in his waistband, "but I understand if you want to get to sleep early. 'Night son."

           "G'night."

           I turned again and walked to my room, taking care that my claws didn't scratch the wood floor. I closed the door behind me and dropped onto the bed back first, but lightly so as not to break the frame. Even though it was an extra long California King mattress, my digitigrade legs still hung down off the end of the bed where my knees started. I wasn't as comfortable on a mattress as I would have been in human form, but it would have to do. Feeling a bit toasty, I slid open the window and slotted the blinds a bit to allow the soft summer breeze to rustle my short summer fur and cool down the room, then settled on top of the sheets for a peaceful night sleep.

           Sometime later, I woke up not knowing why. Had I heard something? I perked my ears without opening my eyes; nothing. I cracked an eyelid and glanced at my clock to find it was just after midnight. I tried to just go back to sleep, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I sat up groggily on the edge of my bed and rested my head in my paws, elbows propped on my knees.

           My ears swiveled on their own accord this time as I heard a quick movement immediately followed by the sound of shattering glass directly behind me. Fully awake now, I immediately jolted from my bed, twisting around while jumping backwards to both give myself distance from, and face the direction of, the sound. As I landed on 3 paws with one hand out behind me for balance, a heavy, weighted chain net landed on my bed as 4 men in black tactical gear jumped into the dark room and started unloading silenced, automatic rounds into the mattress where they must have thought I was still lying. Padding and shredded bits of cloth flew in every direction, but they hadn't yet noticed I was missing.  My "flight" instinct kicking in, I jumped cleanly out the window they'd just destroyed, smashing into the closest two figures on my way out and sending them flying into the wall. I was startled again when I ran into 5 more people in the same tactical gear waiting outside; I ended up knocking over two more as I landed, then took off towards the trees as the last three started spraying silenced gunfire erratically as I retreated.

           I hadn't been scared from that first episode out in the woods, more angry than anything. This time though, it was different; they'd brought the fight to my safe haven, to my home. How did they even find me? My instincts and human mind told me that until I knew what I was dealing with, I needed to get some distance between myself and the threat to assess the situation.

           Once I got far enough into the trees that the gunfire stopped, I circled back towards the other side of the house and stopped to take a look while still hidden in the trees. They all must have been moving without a sound until the initial attack, a hard feat for humans; they probably had a lot of training. Despite the low light, my eyes revealed more people securing the front and back doors as well as several of the windows, and sniffing the breeze, I was able to pick up and process the scents of each individual soldier. Many were determined, but the smell of fear also hung thick in the air. Only one carried the scent of being calm and collected; I compared his size against the leader I'd seen in the Jeep before, but this guy was far too toned and muscular to be the same guy. I also noticed several black armored troop transport vehicles down the street; they must have parked far enough away that I wouldn't notice all the engines stopping as they arrived at the house. I crept stealthily closer to try and figure out a way to get to my parents, and that's when I noticed a strange, smoky haze billowing from their window.

           Now that I had the situation sized up, I was starting to get angry again. They better not have done anything to my parents! I sprinted stealthily back towards my house on all fours and grabbed the men closest to the windows by their heads, throwing them into the trees with enough force to knock them cold, but not kill them. I knew they were just pawns being used by whoever was in charge, and even though they were trying to take my life, they were probably just following orders after all. I jumped up to the second story window and managed to claw and scrabble my way in through the opening. The floor and gave an ominous creak as I dropped down inside; I never went upstairs in this form for a reason. I choked as the fog hit my lungs; I could still see the canisters lying on the carpet. They used gas to knock out my parents, and this stuff was potent! But why would they want to do that? I figured it must have been to keep them from waking up and trying to do anything rash to stop them from hurting me again as I spotted dad's untouched gun on his nightstand. I made sure not to breathe in too much as I grabbed them both and slung one over each shoulder. Good thing they had a big window; I slid it open the rest of the way to give myself more room and jumped back to the ground with a light thud, using my knees to absorb most of the impact to make sure my parents weren't jostled too much.

           I was about to make my way back out to the trees when I noticed something didn't seem right in the open dog run. Koda hadn't made a sound during any of this, and I could see his limp body in the back of the cage. As I got closer to look, I saw a rope cinched tightly around his neck, and could hear that his heart had stopped beating. NO!

           "The target's at the back, north-east corner of the structure and has kidnapped 2 civilians!" I heard someone yell. Silenced sniper fire started raining down all around me splintering the wooden side of the house. No time to mourn the loss of my pet, I pulled my parents down in front of my body to shield them from bullets and turned tail to run back in the direction I'd come.

           In addition to the now familiar biting pieces of hot lead, I grunted as half a dozen pinpricks hit my skin in various places. I glanced over my shoulder to see little puffs where my fur had suddenly turned pink. Wait, that wasn't my fur, those were tassels from a tranquilizer gun! Since I had no time to stop and remove them, and since both hands were tied up with keeping my parents safe anyway, I rubbed up against trees and bushes as I went, and did manage to wipe most of them off. I could feel my body starting to slow a bit as they took effect, but my metabolism was so fast that I was able to keep going without too much additional effort.  I continued on, bullets whizzing by. 3 shots grazed my cheeks and one even managed to go straight through my right ear. I hissed in pain and let out a growl. It almost seemed like they wanted to make sure not to hit my parents; I could see they were using scoped rifles and bipods so as to be more accurate and were aiming mostly for my head.

           It was a bit harder to run while carrying two people; I would have been faster if I'd been able to use 4 legs and not just two, but I was still going much faster than any person could have. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew we had to get away from the house. I yelled out over and over in my mind that I'd been attacked again in the rare chance that someone was listening, but I doubted anyone heard.

           I thought I was in the clear, but after a minute or two of running, the approaching sound of two-stroke engines-dirtbikes by the sound of it-broke the silence behind me. I probably would have been able to outrun them with four paws on this terrain, but since I only had 2 legs to work with at the moment I decided to veer to the right for a hundred yards and then stop abruptly so they'd just zoom past me. Instead of continuing in the same direction though, I listened in confusion they adjusted course and started heading right towards me again! But how? It was too dark to see any footprints, and even if it wasn't I'd been making sure to avoid stepping in bare dirt. How were they able to track me so easily?

           I figured I'd start off and try again, this time cutting to the left and stopping to use mostly my hind paws to climb two parallel trees until I was about 10 feet off the ground, using one hand to keep myself stable and using the remaining one to hold my parents secure. And yet, I heard them turn and change their trajectory right back towards me again! Quickly running out of options, I decided to run flat out as fast as my two paws could take me back towards the lines of houses. At one point I caught a scent trail of Emmalee's brother John. It was an old trail that must have been back from when they were still running circuits to guard my house. Not really having any plan besides trying to get somewhere safe so I could try and figure something out, I followed the trail hoping to find some place to hide.

           They kept getting closer and closer until headlights broke through the trees and shone directly on me. At that point they opened up with sniper fire once again, and this time were surprisingly even more accurate than before. Several shots hit me directly in the calf causing me to stumble into several small saplings and knock them to the ground; I almost dropped my precious load. Still others went straight into my neck, tearing up the vocal cords in my throat and causing me to cough up blood. That did it.

           If I'd still had functioning vocal cords I would have roared out; as it was I whirled and ran straight back towards the 4 oncoming lights, causing them all to charge straight past, buying me time to lay my parents down safely behind a group of pines. I coughed again, and felt hot metal shards scratch my throat and enter my mouth where I spit them to the ground. I ran back towards the bikes that had started to turn around, this time with the speed of four legs. Dodging more shots, I reared up on my hind legs and stuck out both arms, closelining the riders on either side from the two closest bikes which went crashing off into the undergrowth. Turns out one on each bike had been driving and the other shooting. I grabbed the rifle from one of the fallen rider's unconscious hands.

           The remaining bikers had started to turn back around once more.  Since the trigger guards weren't large enough to admit my big fingers, I used my claw tips to pull the trigger, firing repeatedly in their direction (missing intentionally), the recoil absorbed by my strong arms as I fired over and over in an attempt to throw them off course and separate them, which worked. I then chased after the closest dirt bike until I got near enough to throw the rifle like a javelin straight into the front spokes, sending both riders flying head over heels. The last two had given up and were presumably trying to get back to their group at my house, but in a few quick strides I caught up and ran alongside them, body-slamming the bike to send the riders flying roughly to the ground.

           Instead of going quiet again however, the trees still rang with the sound of one last engine I hadn't noticed before. There was no headlight on that bike, but I could see and hear well enough that it didn't matter. I noticed the rider was the same calm, muscular guy I'd seen back at my house, and that he was wearing a pair of night vision goggles. Once he noticed I was looking in his direction, he pulled a large revolver from his leg holster and revved the throttle with his other hand a couple times before tearing out of there. I took off in hot pursuit, but this driver seemed a bit more experienced than the others. Just when I seemed to be getting close enough to grab him, he'd pull a tight 90 degree turn right in front of some obstacle that was too big to jump or too dense to tear straight through and I'd have to stop and maneuver around it. This happened several times, me getting more and more frustrated, until we came to an opening in the trees I recognized.

           Knowing an opportunity when I saw one, I put on an extra burst of speed and was about to jump when he fired a shot straight through my shoulder. Fortunately the rider lost his balance when he took the shot and hit a tree, but this shot was nothing like any of the others I'd taken. Pain bit my shoulder deeper than I'd ever felt before. Usually, even with gunshot wounds, my body would have immediately start to knit and close. This one didn't seem to be doing that. It just continued to bleed and burn with pain. Not used to the sensation, I struggled not to lose consciousness as I made my way to where the rider who'd shot me had crashed.

           As I approached, it was apparent he was pinned under his bike which was leaking gasoline and oil onto his clothing. With one hand he was trying to free himself, and with the other he was desperately trying to reach his revolver which had been flung several feet away. The heat of the engine on the flammable liquid must have been too much; the bike burst into flames, immediately lighting his clothes on fire as well. His eyes widened for a split second before he started to scream. I wasn't really sure what made me do it, but I decided that even he shouldn't die this way and moved the bike off from on top of him, patting out the flames with my large paws as I did.

           His night vision goggles must have fallen off; I got a clear look at his face for the first time. Once the fire was out he said nothing, only looked at me with an expression of shock and gratitude then collapsed, unconscious. I looked down at my still bleeding shoulder and licked at the wound a bit before retrieving the large revolver from the forest floor. I wanted to make sure and keep it in case there was something special in the bullets that had caused my still unhealing wound.

           Now that the forest was quiet again, I was able to pick up the more subtle sounds again and jogged back to retrieve my parents. As I ran on, I heard sounds of struggling to my side near another of the bikes. I skidded to a stop and crouched down on all fours right over a rider that was still conscious, lifting his face to mine by the front of his shirt. I noticed a flashlight on his combat vest, and clicked it on so he got a full look at me. Also, in case the appearance of my claws and fangs didn't faze him, I'd use something he did understand. I cocked the hammer back on the revolver I was carrying and pointed it threateningly at his face.

           "Who are you, and why are you after me?" I rasped roughly around my healing throat wound in as menacing a tone as I could manage. He only looked back at me with an expression of horror, grabbing my hand where I held his shirt and saying nothing. I turned the gun to shoot off into the trees, causing him to jump, then pressed it back into his forehead. I asked again, and this time he spoke.

           "I-I-I… all they told us is that in this mission some kind of monster was holding two civilians captive, and that we were going to go take it out and save them." The scent of urine was suddenly strong on the air; he'd wet himself.

           "Some kind of monster?" I growled. "Is that really all you think I am? What's your name and who are you working for?"

           "S-s-specialist S-stevens of the US Marines. I report to commander… I really shouldn't say…" I snarled and brought his face even closer to mine; he actually let out a pitiful whimper and screwed his eyes shut.

           "Commander Harper! I report to commander H-h-" at that he passed out cold with a deep exhale.

           Commander Harper, huh? I was going to have to do some digging. I dropped Stevens roughly to the ground, grabbed the nearest motorcycle that was still intact, and walked it over to where my parents were still laying unconscious. I shifted back to human form so I could fit on the bike, and as I did, the rest of the bullet fragments and all but one of the remaining darts fell from my skin, a thicker, heavier shaft staying stuck in my left side. I tried to pull it out, but found that it was barbed and embedded pretty deeply. I gritted my teeth, exhaled heavily, then grabbed and tore the dart from my back. Still lacking a healed throat, my gasp of pain came out as a heavy, rasping intake of air.  I held it up to the light of the motorcycle's headlight, and in addition to the bits of flesh it had torn loose I noticed a small, glass-covered satellite transmitter! So that's how they were tracking me! I cocked my arm back and threw the transmitter as hard as I could out into the brush, wincing at the pain in my shoulder that still refused to heal.

           I went back to steal my dad's pajama pants so I wasn't indecent, stuffing the pistol I was still carrying in the waistband.  By that time my parents were somewhat coming around but still pretty groggy, so I hopped on the motorcycle and helped them sit in front of me (keeping them upright with both arms), revved up the engine, and cut through someone's back yard and onto the road to head in the direction of Em's house.

           Gradually during the course of the trip my parents had regained consciousness. They didn't know anything about what had happened, so I explained as we went. My dad noticed his lack of pants pretty quick with the wind blowing on his undergarments, and when he asked about it I just glanced down at his pants I was now wearing and back to the road; he understood then.

           We must have been a pretty motley sight all crammed on one bike like we were, especially me wearing only too-tight and too-short pajama pants and shifting the gears barefoot. Somehow, when you're speeding and don't want them around, you can always find a cop, and yet now when we legitimately needed one, of course we went the whole trip without seeing a single black and white car. Figures.

           After arriving at Emmalee's house, I revved the engine intentionally loud to get their attention, walked to their front porch while supporting my still weak parents, and rang the doorbell until I heard someone walking inside. Mr. Sorensen slowly cracked open the door, hand behind his back (presumably with some sort of weapon) and answered cautiously with an annoyed expression. Once he saw who it was he opened the door wider and asked what was going on; he was confused to see us at this hour, especially in the odd way I was dressed.

           "They attacked me again. This time they would have had me too, except something kept telling me that things weren't quite right, so I listened and was ready to escape right when I needed to." He brought us inside and locked two deadbolts on the door securely once we'd entered. He quickly grabbed the landline cordless phone and tossed it to me. I winced as I caught it; the wound in my shoulder had reopened again during the drive here causing my upper arm to be slick with blood. All my other wounds had already finished healing several minutes before.

           "Since you had the experience first-hand, I need you to explain to the police exactly what happened."  I nodded and dialed 911, describing in as much detail as I could about what had occurred (but without giving away anything sensitive). As Mr. Sorensen grabbed some medical supplies and checked my parents to make sure they were okay, I reported to the dispatcher that several armed people had broken and entered my house and shot at me (but left out the part where I was actually hit; didn't want to have to explain my fast healing), had used a substance to knock out my parents, and that I'd been able to get my them out safely. I'd recommended they send a swat team in case someone was still there.

           After I hung up, I showed Mr. Sorensen my wound so we could get it bandaged properly. Since there'd never been a need to wrap my own wound before, I struggled for a while before finally giving up and letting him do it. I showed him the revolver; he flicked open the cylinder and took one look at the bullets before proclaiming his conclusion.

           "Silver. Injuries caused by this metal will cause a werewolf heal at the rate a normal human would, and if left inside of your body for too long, it can be fatal."
"Is the bullet still inside my shoulder?" I asked.

           "Believe me, you wouldn't have to ask if it were still inside your body. Fortunately for you, it must have passed all the way through. You weren't hit in a vital spot, but all things considered, you're doing incredibly well for having been shot with a silver bullet." He unzipped a small pocket on his first responder medical kit and withdrew a small package.

"I never thought I'd have to use this," he said opening a sterile envelope which contained a surgical needle and thread. It took 30 stitches to close me up, 15 each on the front and back of my shoulder. "These will have to stay in for a few days at least to make sure your arm is fully repaired. From there I'd be easy on it, but you should be fine to shift after that. The scar will be there for a while, in time it should disappear."

           We were all waiting in the living room for any news from the police; me and Em were holding each other closely on the couch while our parents paced back and forth, sometimes asking me more questions and then conversing amongst themselves. Two officers came by just over an hour later letting us know that when they'd arrived, there was no one in sight and the whole house was in flames. The blaze was so far advanced that firefighters had no chance at saving the structure; our entire home was lost. From what little evidence was left after the fire, they did find blood, several bullet casings scattered around the premises, and motorcycle tracks leading off into the trees. When they came upon the crashed bikes, they found additional bullet casings and blood, but somebody must have come by to recover the unconscious soldiers because nobody was there. Officer Powell even got out of bed to see what he could find; he was able to memorize the scents of the soldiers that had been there and said he'd be on the lookout for them in the city.

           The next day, after the police and FBI had gathered everything they could, we sorted through the remaining rubble. Nothing was left; my old journals, our computers and all their files, mom and dad's wedding pictures and videotapes, financial documents and wallets, all our belongings-everything had been charred beyond recognition or gone up in smoke. I sat on one of the scorched decorative rocks near where the dog run had been and simply stared down at the cement pad for the longest time. Koda had been my dog for even longer than I'd been a werewolf. He'd been my only canine friend until I'm met Emmalee, the one I could truly be myself around because he was happy to see me no matter what form I was in.

           I looked over and noticed my mother crying; in her hands was clutched the charred plastic cover of a small book I recognized as my wolf photo album. I put an arm around her to try and say sorry; I felt like this was all my fault since it was me they were targeting. She only hugged her shoulders tightly and shook her head as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Dad came over to try and comfort her then, and we all ended up standing in the middle of the ashes hugging one another tightly. At least we still had what mattered most.

           Late that same night, it was decided that for my parents' protection, they'd have to leave the state until things cooled down and we got the situation figured out. None of us wolves had to say it, but we all knew they'd be liabilities in the next confrontation that would inevitably happen. Dad protested at first, insisting that he wanted to help protect his only son and get this solved, but eventually we persuaded him it was for the best. Since it was hard to know who to trust and we didn't want to endanger any of our extended family that could be traced, they'd found an old college friend who was happy to let them stay for as long as they needed.

           The police let us know that they'd be keeping what was left of our property on their regular patrol for the next several weeks as well in case anyone came back.  It didn't really matter though; even though the insurance was probably going to cover most of it, for the first time in my life I was homeless, not to mention how devastated my parents were having just made the final mortgage payment 3 months ago.

           It was easy for mom and dad to pack (since there was nothing left to pack), so we all jumped in the Sorensen's white Suburban and headed to the airport to make sure they got on their flight safely. Not wanting to take any chances, we hadn't pre-order tickets online to avoid having them traced to my parent's names and instead paid for them in cash on the spot. It was pricey, but they got the only two remaining tickets to their destination at the last minute.

           We all hugged before they boarded the plane. Once they were on, we waited in the terminal just to be certain the plane got out to the runway. It was taking a while for everyone else to board, so I let Em's family know I was going to use the restroom several terminals down and that I'd be back in 5 minutes.
The men's room was fairly busy as I entered, people were coming and going every few seconds. I'd been in the stall for a minute when I heard someone enter more slowly and deliberately than the rest, then recognized the scent of one of the soldiers that had been at my house! What was I going to do? I no longer had a cell phone to text for help, and shifting in such a public place would definitely cause a general panic.

           Frantic to get in contact with Emmalee immediately and yet keeping my identity undisclosed being a matter of life and death at the moment, I decided to try something I'd never attempted before. Knowing that telepathy felt like it came from somewhere near my temples in my mind, I decided to focus on just shifting that part of my brain to wolf form to see if I could send a message to Emmalee. It was one of the stranger sensations I'd ever felt; it was like a small part of the left side of my brain had suddenly gotten very hot and fluid. Beads of sweat began to form on my forehead, and I had to lean over, bracing my arms on my knees for support. My mind was also telling me in stronger and stronger terms that I was a wolf despite my still being in human form. My tendencies were also getting more and more lupine by the moment; if I didn't stop in a few seconds I'd surely lose control and shift all the way! I called out in desperation while I still could.

            The last word turned into a growl as I was forced to either stop the shift or change completely in a busy airport full of people.

           I wasn't sure if she heard until the restroom started filling with a thick white powder! The whole place was suddenly thrown into chaos and confusion as men were yelling and coughing as they choked on the powder. Knowing this would be my only chance, I burst from the stall and ran back out the entrance to see Mr. Sorensen spraying the fire extinguisher heavily in the air. Once he saw me he locked the valve open, set the still flowing tank on the ground, and grabbed my shoulder to direct me back through the thick crowd towards his wife, John, and Em.

           "Your parents' plane left without a hitch while you were gone. Now we've got to get out of here!" We all ran through the dense crowd as the shouts grew louder behind us, airport security surely arriving at the scene by then. As we rounded a corner we slowed to blend in with the mass of people so as to not attract further attention. All we could do now was generally go with the flow of the crowd and not look suspicious until we got out to the Suburban, and hope he wasn't captured on camera while spraying the extinguisher.

           None of us dared say anything until we were safely on the freeway and the airport was out of sight. Once we got back to the Sorensen's and shut the garage, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully there wouldn't be any more adventures for today.