“My parents and brother are dead,” Austin said, changing the subject, prompting the werewolf to turn toward him. “My father killed everyone, even put a bullet in my head, but I’m still here. I don’t know what to do. I thought I could find my purpose out here, but this doesn’t feel right either.”
“Damn, kid.” He slipped his arm around Austin’s back, but the half-turn pushed him away.
“I don’t want sympathy,” he snapped, but his snarl softened. “I want to know why you’re here.”
“I killed people,” the werewolf responded without hesitation. Austin’s face turned pallid. “I tore five men to shreds, and I don’t regret any of it.”
“So you’re a killer, like my dad.”
“No. I’m just a killer. I’m not your dad. Those five men raped and murdered my daughter.” His voice trembled. “My only child. Humans took her from me. I’d probably kill more of ’em in a rage if I didn’t come out here.”
“I—” Austin paused, letting out a sigh. “Shit. I’m sorry. I think about what I would do if my dad didn’t kill himself, and every scenario leads back to my hands around his neck, letting him breathe for a second before choking him again until he slowly dies, all while looking at my face. I’d be a killer, too.”
“That’s why you’re out here with me, kid. You may not be mine, but we’re a lot alike.”
The woods around me went dark, the light of the moon overhead illuminating a slightly older Austin sitting alone on his boulder, looking out into the woods as if waiting. Night soon turned to day, and the half-turn lay on the ground, staring at the sky, not moving as the light faded again. Three days passed, and Austin finally started to cry. It was the first time I’d seen him cry in this vision.
“He’s gone,” he whispered as if he had been expecting this day to come. Sluggishly, he pushed himself from the rocky ground and made his way east, toward the orange light of dawn blanketing the cold valley. I stood there, confused as I looked around for the other werewolf. What had happened?
Familiar cackling overhead and smoke from a chimney filled the air that sent an all-too-familiar chill racing through me. Even in the remote wilds of this beautiful place, the witches hunted their prey. Austin made his way through the forest, keeping as quiet as he could, but it didn’t make a difference. Malformed, shadowy ravens with red eyes flew from branch-to-branch, almost hungrily watching as the half-turn ran through fetishes of teeth, bone and feathers dangling from bare aspen branches.
The scene soon turned to a familiar beach, and the ravens turned to screeching gulls overhead as the frothy ocean lappedagainst the sand. Austin sat on a dune as the sun dipped halfway below the horizon, its distorted reflection zigzagging along the water’s surface. In the distance, a werewolf on a surfboard rode the waves with perfect balance and grace. I smiled when I realized it was Darryl. Sometimes I really missed this place.
The half-turn was covered in thicker body hair, and a small tail jutted from his lower back between the cleft of his ass. I remembered how uncomfortable that thing was. It had been too short to push off to the side when I’d sit, and too long and stiff to not accidentally bend it the wrong way if I wasn’t paying attention.
Darryl hopped off the board, sinking waist-high into the rough waters before tucking the surfboard under his arm. He sloshed his way onto the beach, then sat next to Austin.
“You feeling okay?” Darryl asked, eyeing the older half-turn. “Need some extra attention?”
Austin shook his head.
“I’m getting a little worried. You’re obviously in pain, but you keep holding back. The only way you’re going to get over this phase faster is by letting me help you.”
“I don’t need help. A little pain never killed anyone.”
“No, but it could kill other people,” Darryl said. “It’s dangerous for a half-turn to go this long.”
“It’s only dangerous if you’re weak.”
The werewolf sighed and turned to the ocean. “It’s not a weakness to depend on others once in a while. At least sleep in the house.”
“I don’t like sleeping inside.”
“Is there anything you like?”
Austin looked up at Darryl, his brows furrowed. “No.”
Without another word, Darryl stood up and brushed the sand from his fur before walking over to his house. His deck was only partially finished with stacks of wood lining the parameter of hisproperty. Austin watched on curiously as the werewolf flipped on a floodlight and set to work measuring and sawing.
The half-turn slowly made his way over as Darryl hammered a couple nails into the board, securing it to the deck frame.
“Did you build this house?” Austin asked.
“Kind of. I had some contractor friends help me out.” Darryl smiled and handed the hammer to Austin. “Want to help me?”
Austin gripped the heavy tool tightly, pounding a half-driven nail into the deck so hard the head sank into the board with a crack.
“Too hard,” Darryl said, his tone a lot more patient than I would have expected after Austin ruined the plank he’d just measured and cut. The werewolf rocked the loosened wood back and forth before pulling it loose from the foundation and tossing it to the side. “I’ll save that piece for something else.” He grabbed another board and handed Austin the measuring tape. “I want this cut to six feet. Measure it and then mark it. After that, use the saw and put that strength to good use.”
