"The Nature of the Beast"

                    by Richard Ryley



     Sandra's face brightened as she saw me, her huge,
pointed ears rising on her head.  She cleared the front
steps of the hospital in a single bound, landing firmly on
both hands, her arms bending to cushion the impact.  I
caught her at the foot of the steps, and she wrapped her
long, slender arms around my neck.  "Steve!  Thank God
you're okay!"

     "I'm fine," I told her, savoring the feel of her soft,
furry body against mine.  After a moment, she stepped back,
and smiled winningly at me.  I brushed a few strands of
reddish-brown hair away from her face.

     "So what happened?"  She was trying to keep her smile
bright and cheerful, but there was worry in her brown eyes. 
"Did you catch him?"

     "We got him, all right."  The sheriff's voice came from
behind me.  "He tried to run for it, but Steve caught him
before he could get to his car."

     "So it _was_ the guy who's been sending us those
letters."

     "Yup," Andy said.  "He ain't gonna be threatenin' you
any more, that's fer sure."

     Sheriff Andy Hakkett was a tough, rugged looking man. 
He was short and stocky, but he towered over Sandra and I. 
We stood on all fours, only about half as tall as Andy.  I
had to crane my neck to look up at him.

     "He was one of Billy Nathan's men."  I told Sandra. 
"I'm pretty sure he's one of the guys that's trying to break
Billy out of jail.  He had a hideout in the forest, but I
was able to follow his trail."

     The sheriff laughed as he looked at me.  "It's true,
you're better'n a bloodhound.  I thought the mayor was
crazy, makin' you a deputy, but you sure proved me wrong."

     "Actually, it's kind of funny.  When all this began, we
were the ones hiding in the woods."

     Andy's expression sobered. "Yeah.  Hiding from us. . ."

     Sandra stepped around me.  She reached up with one long
arm, placing it on the sheriff's shoulder. "There's nothing
you could have done," she told him.  "Even I had trouble
believing what was happening to me.  You couldn't have known
we weren't. . .monsters. . ."

     The sheriff cleared his throat, picking at his shirt
sleeve.  Behind him, I began to notice the other humans
around the hospital.  Most were just ignoring us, walking in
or out of the building, but a few stared.  A short distance
away, I could hear one of them.  With my hearing, I couldn't 
help it.

     "Damn wolves," He was saying.  "Why are they lettin'
animals like that into the hospital?"

     "I hear they're studying 'em," a friend of his said. 
"Don' know why.  The only good wolf's a dead wolf."

     I began to feel odd -- dizzy, and strangely confused. 
I glanced around at the hospital, the steel and glass of the
entrance, the concrete of the walk where we stood, and the
parking lot beyond.  It all seemed strange, somehow.

     Sandra gave a yelp of surprise.  I turned just in time
to see a faint, flickering spark leap from her to Andy. 
They fell to the ground as if thrown apart.  Sandra's feet
scrabbled wildly on the concrete, as if she were trying to
get away from something.

     "Did you see that?!" Sandra yelled.

     "What?"

     "It was the flash, didn't you see it?"  Sandra stared
at me, her eyes wide with fright.

     I knew exactly what she meant, but it couldn't be. . .
"What flash?" I asked.

     "_The_ flash!" she said.  "It was just like before!" 
Sandra's eyes unfocused, as she stared off into the
distance. Her voice seemed to fade away.  "Just like
before."

     Just like before.  The dizziness, disorientation. . .
and then the pain, the unbelievable pain -- But, no.  I
didn't see the flash, _this_ time.  I saw it happen to
someone else.

     I looked over at the sheriff.  He was trying to sit up,
propping himself up with his arms.  "Did you see a flash?"

     He nodded, slowly.  He looked stunned.

     "Oh, God!"  Sandra's voice was high, plaintive, almost
whispered.  "Oh, God, it's happening again!"

     "We don't know that," I told her, quickly.  "Maybe it
won't effect you again."

     "But what if it does?  What if it does?  You know what
it was like. . .how it hurt. . ."  Sandra shut her eyes
tight, and pressed both hands against her face.

     I grabbed her tightly, wrapping my arms around her
shivering body.  I pulled her as close to me as I could. 
"I'm here.  You know I'm here.  We'll get through it
together.  Even if you change back, I'll be here."

     "Wait a minute!" the sheriff bellowed.  "What the
hell's going on!?"

     I turned to look at him, then back down at Sandra.  She
sat with her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes tightly
closed, clinging to my arm with one hand.

     "It's the Transformation."  I told him.  "The flash is
just the beginning.  You're going to turn into one of us. 
You're going to turn into a werewolf."

     Sheriff Hakkett's eyes widened as he stared back at me. 
He inched backward.  "But. . .I don't want to be a. . ."

     He doubled over, crying out, as the first of the pains
hit him.  I got to my feet, hurrying to his side.  His
muscles were tense, his body shaking, and I put a hand on
his shoulder, as encouragement and to steady him.  Finally
he relaxed, exhaling heavily as he tried to catch his
breath.

     "There," I said, "that one's over."  It would be about
ten minutes before the pain returned.  "Lie still.  I've got
to see about Sandra."

     Sandra sat where I'd left her, huddled up in a ball,
shivering.  I gripped her firmly by the shoulders, then
tipped her head up, with one finger, under her muzzle.  She
blinked as she looked up at me, her eyes glistening with
tears.

     "Hey.  There's nothing yet, right?  If it hasn't
happened by now. . ."  I brushed the hair away from her face
again.  There was a long pause, while Sandra stared at me,
not even breathing.  As the seconds passed, a trace of a
smile began to flicker at the base of her mouth.

     "You see.  Wait here.  I've got to get the sheriff
inside."

     Sandra took a deep breath, then stood up.  "_We'll_ get
him inside," she told me, and she walked over to Andy.  She
looked back at me as I followed, and smiled as I sat down
next to her.  "Thanks," she said.

     Together, we managed to get the sheriff to his feet,
and I braced myself against him, trying to balance on my
back legs.  I hadn't walked upright in a long time, but I
somehow managed to keep from tripping over myself.

     Sandra also watched her feet carefully, as we made our
way up the steps toward the door. As we reached the door the
sheriff cried out, as another attack struck him.  Sandra
grabbed him tightly.

     For a few moments, Andy seemed to be fighting us.  "Let
me go!" he yelled, as his body shook, uncontrollably.

     Sandra only held him tighter.  "It's all right," she
said, leaning over, to look him in the face.  "We're here. 
You've got nothing to be afraid of."

     Sandra looked up at me, just a glance.  I could see the 
pain in her eyes, the memories of her own Transformation, 
the agony and the fear of that terrible night.  Then the 
sheriff relaxed, breathing heavily.

     As Sandra and I helped the sheriff through the door, a 
nurse spotted us, and rushed over.  "It's Sheriff Hakkett,"
I told her.  "He's turning into a werewolf."

     The nurse's mouth fell open.  She backed away,
wide-eyed.

     "He'll need something for the pain," I continued, while
she stared.  "That's the worst symptom.  If you can get him
through that, he'll probably be all right on his own."

     The nurse hesitated a moment more, but then moved in to
help us.  The sheriff shoved Sandra away as the nurse took
his arm.  I stepped back, then dropped back to all fours.

     "Are you sure he's turning into a werewolf?" the nurse
asked.  She turned to face me, her shoulder under one of the
sheriff's arms.  "He doesn't look much like a wolf, you
know."

     "He won't, for a while.  It's not like in the movies. 
It took me three days to change into what you see now."

     The nurse stared at me again, for a few seconds.  Then
she shook her head, with a sigh.  "Sounds like you had a
time of it.  I'll see if I can find a place for this guy."

     I turned to look at Sandra.  She was rubbing her heel,
absent-mindedly.  She grinned as she noticed I was watching
her.  "'Sounds like you a had a time of it'" She echoed.

     I snorted.  "No kidding."

     She paused, thoughtfully.  "You know, it's been six
months. . .since we. . ."

     "Yeah."

     ". . .And tonight's a full moon."

     Suddenly, the glass doors burst open.  An intern
glanced around the lobby, and spotted me.  "Hey, you're that
wolf cop, right?  Your radio's sure makin' a racket out
here."

     I trotted to the door, and shoved it open.  Even from
the lobby, I could hear the mayor's voice on the patrol
car's radio.  He sounded frantic, almost panicked. 
"Thanks," I said to the intern, and bounded out to the car.

     "Sheriff! Please respond!"

     I planted one arm on the door, and stuck the other in
the window, to grab the mike.  My palms were elongated,
twice the length of a human's, but I'd grown used to using
them as hands, as well as feet.  "This is Deputy MacDonald,"
I said.  "Go ahead, Dave."

     "Steve!"  The mayor yelled my name, sounding both
anxious and relieved.  "You're the one I was looking for
anyway!  Meet me out at Billy Nathan's place."

     "Billy Nathan? He's still in jail, isn't he?"  Great. 
All I needed was Billy coming after me again.

     "No, it's his wife.  I just got a call from her a few
minutes ago.  She claims a werewolf bit her little girl. 
The child is acting strange. . .like she's in pain or
something."

     Behind me, Sandra gasped.  I turned around, startled,
and she put a hand over her mouth.

     I switched on the handset again.  "I think we've got a
big problem on our hands, Dave.  The sheriff's having those
same pains, too.  We're at the hospital.

     "It's the Transformation, I'm sure of it.  It's just
like when it happened before. . .to me, and Sandra, and all
of the others.  I'd say there's about eight people in this
town, somewhere, turning into werewolves."

     "We have to warn them, get them to a hospital," the
mayor said.

     I nodded.  "First, however, we've got to get to Amy,
and calm her mother down.  We know that no werewolf bit her,
but when Amy starts to transform, that's exactly what her
mom will think."

     "Okay," the mayor's voice answered.  "I'll meet you at
the Nathans' place."

     "Before you go," I cut in, "get me Deputy Silvers."

     "Okay, sure."

     I took a deep breath, and looked down at Sandra.  She
stood on the hard concrete beside me, searching my face. 
"You know how Billy Nathan hates you," she said.  "What's
going to happen when he finds out his daughter is turning
into a werewolf?"

     I leaned against the car door, resting my head against
one hand.  "I don't know.  I've tried to reason with him,
but Billy only sees a monster. . .  He still thinks I was
trying to hurt his daughter.

     "It's Amy's mother that I'm going to have to convince,
but I'm the one responsible for getting her husband
arrested.  If there really was a werewolf with Amy. . ."

     The radio crackled.  "Silvers here.  You need
somethin', Steve?"

     I grabbed the handset.  "Yeah.  The Transformation's
happening again.  I want to make sure no one gets shot this
time."

     I could see Sandra lower her head, just out of the
corner of my eye.  "You need to drop by the hospital and
pick up Sandra," I told Silvers.  "She'll be able to calm
the victims down and get them back to the hospital."

     "Got it.  Where's the sheriff gonna be in all this?"

     "The sheriff is transforming.  He won't be able to
help."

     There was silence on the line, just for a moment.
"Okay.  I'll be right over."

     I replaced the handset, and dropped to the ground
beside Sandra.  There was a look of sadness in her eyes. 
This day had brought up too many memories for both of us.

     "Are you gonna be all right?"

     She smiled at me, staring into my eyes for a second or
two.  "I'll be fine," she finally said, and her grin
widened.  "I really didn't want to be human again anyway!"

          *         *         *         *         *

     "How the hell could you lose him!"  The sheriff was
mad.  Andy's hands were splayed out on his desk, his claws
digging into the wood, his eyes wild.  Deputy Silvers looked
like he wanted to bolt and run, and I couldn't say as I
blamed him.  I was a werewolf myself, and Andy was beginning
to scare _me_.

     "Bill Nathan has been trouble for us since the day you
arrested him," I said.  "His men have been trying to break
him out for months.  You said yourself you wanted to
transfer him to the county jail."

     "That's no excuse.  Silvers was on guard that night,
and Billy was his responsibility.  If it was up to me, he'd
be fired right now."

     "It's not up to you," corrected the mayor.  "It's up to
me."

     Mayor David Taylor stood next to the sheriff's desk,
his arms folded.  "We need Silvers, Andy.  Now that you're a
werewolf, he's the only human we've got in the sheriff's
department.  You know the people in this town aren't going
to like taking orders from you.  We need Silvers to keep
them in line, to keep them in control."

     Andy stared at him.  The sheriff's transformation had
left him tough and muscular.  His black, grizzled hair had
grown out into a thick, shaggy coat.  He looked large and
bear-like.

     "So I can't do my job, is that it?"

     "Of course not," I cut in.  "We both know who the law
around here is.  You've kept us safe, even when the whole
town wanted us dead."

     "When we first arrived, you didn't trust us.  I
remember the gun you carried, with its silver bullets.  But
you learned to trust us, and we've learned we can trust you. 
You were always fair, even when you were afraid of us.  I've
never forgotten that."

     The sheriff leaned his elbows on the desk, rubbing his
face with his hands.  "All right.  I guess I can be fair
with Silvers, too.  So, now that the damage is done, what do
we do?"

     "Well, he's obviously going to be after you two," the
mayor answered, looking at Andy.  "He's always hated Steve,
and you've never been high on his list of friends.  Now that
you're 'one of them' too, he's going to want you both dead."

     Andy nodded.  "Silvers, tell you what.  You stake out
the Nathans' place, and if Billy shows up, you let me know. 
You do this right, and I may even forget you're why we're in
this mess."

     "Sure, chief."  Silvers hurried out of the room.

     "Do you think he knows about his daughter?" I asked.

     "I'd bet he does," the sheriff answered.  "And he'll
blame you for it."  He looked at me, a serious set to his
jaw.  "He won't stop until one of the two of you's dead."

          *         *         *         *         *

     "I want out of here," the sheriff was saying.  "I'm
tired of being poked and prodded."

     "If you'll just hold still, you _can get out of here,"
countered the doctor.  "I've just got one more test to do. 
I just want to make sure you and all the rest are okay."

     Doctor Katherine James held a penlight in one hand,
shining it in the sheriff's eyes, as he tried to wriggle
away from her.  Her lanky, furred body was covered by a lab
coat, tied loosely around her body, but her arms were not in
their sleeves.  Her hair was a bright, flaming red, as was
the fur on her arms, but a ruffle of white could be seen on
her exposed chest.

     "Hiya, Kat," I said, stepping through the door.  "Or 
maybe I should start calling you something else.  You look 
more like a fox, now."

     She looked down at herself.  "Yeah.  It's ironic.  I
come here to study werewolves, and end up turning into one."

     "What's with the coat?  It's not gonna fit, you know."

     "I know.  It's just going to take a while. . ."  She
ran a hand through her mass of tangled hair.  Before the
transformation, her hair had been short, and immaculately
groomed.  "I think the first thing I need to do is get a
haircut."

     "You don't want to do that," said Sandra, with a
knowing smile.  "It's good to have all that hair.  It keeps
things hidden, you know?"

     Katherine nodded, but then looked up, startled, at the
red and blonde werewolf behind me.  "Sandra?  You're wearing
perfume?  What's the occasion?"

     "She always wears perfume, doc," I said.  "You just
couldn't smell it before."

     Sandra nodded.  "Normal perfume's too strong for me.  I
diluted it, so only another werewolf can smell it."

     "Like me. . ." I said, and she stuck out her tongue at
me.

     Behind Sandra, Amy skidded past, on the tile floor of
the hall, her short legs moving in all directions.  Sandra
jumped out of the way, as the tiny pup slid past her, into
the room.

     "Look at me!" Amy cried happily.  "I can slide!"

     She charged back out of the room again, turning
sideways as she hit the floor outside.  She "pedalled" with
her back feet, and again shot down the hall, sliding on the
long fur between her toes.  Her mother ran past the door,
heading in the same direction.  "Amy!  Come back here!"

     I couldn't help laughing.  "You know, that's the first
werewolf child I've ever seen.  We haven't had the time to
have children, ourselves."

     Sandra watched the girl playing, a smile on her face,
but she suddenly looked up.  "Steve," she said sweetly. 
"Are you trying to ask me something?"

     I feigned a look of complete shock.  "Sandra!  I'm not
that kind of werewolf!"

     She looked back out the door, and the thoughtful look
returned.  "We don't really know if our children will even
be werewolves.  They might be normal humans."

     "I don't think so," the doctor cut in.  "It wouldn't
make sense if we couldn't pass this on to our children."

     She thought for a moment.  "Even after all this time, I
still don't know what makes you. . .us. . .tick.  But when I
started transforming, I began to study myself, as well the
wolf I was standing next to."

     "What?"  Of all the people who transformed, six months
ago, I was the only one that saw a wolf.

     "I brought in some wolves to study, remember?  I was
examining one of them, when it happened.  I guess I'm the
one, this time. . ."

     Andy turned to look up at her.  "What do you mean?"

     "When the first Transformation happened," Kat told him,
"it seemed to happen in clusters. . .centered on one human,
like Steve, who saw a wolf at the time of the flash."

     "So you think that the effect jumps from person to
person," I stated.

     Katherine nodded.  "Some of the. . .characteristics of
the wolf were passed on to me -- and from me out to the rest
of the city."

     I paused a moment, thinking.  "I saw. . .something, a
spark, maybe, pass between Sandra and Andy."

     "Oh, my God. . ."  Sandra's voice trailed off, as she
looked at the sheriff.  "It's my fault Andy's a werewolf."

      Andy's eyes widened as he stared at Sandra, shocked,
but Kat shook her head.  "No.  It only happens to certain
people.  There were others standing next to me that weren't
effected.  We're a. . .a carrier now, but this flash. . .
That's what doing this."

     Andy grunted.  "You got any idea why it hurt so damn 
much?"

     Kat shuddered.  "Yes. . .that was. . .surprising. But
everything that happened during the Transformation was
consistent with a massive bodily trauma -- the pain, the
exhaustion, the immune system going wild -- except, of
course, that there was no injury."

     "Besides," I cut in, "it's over now.  You're not going
to turn back.  Now that you're a werewolf, the worst is over
. . .Right Andy?"

     The black furred wolf stared at me a moment.  "I
guess."

     I smiled reassuringly at him.  "It's not as bad as you
think.  Oh, sure, it's not easy.  It's not easy at all,
being a werewolf. . ."

     I glanced at Sandra.  ". . .But it does have its
moments."

     Sandra's eyes lit up, as she met my gaze.  She flashed
me a coy smile, but just then, a shout from out in the hall
interrupted us.

     "Hey, ya damn wolf!  Get the hell outta here!"

     I leaped out the door, landing in the middle of the
corridor, as I glanced in the direction the sound came from. 
Amy, at the end of the hall, had just collided with a large,
and very angry human.  I took off running again, with Sandra
right behind me.

     "Get offa me!" the man yelled, pulling back his foot. 
I could tell he intended to kick Amy, who cringed in the
middle of the floor.  I struck the man full force in the
chest.  He hit the floor with a crash.

     I leaped away, darting around him, as he swung at me. 
He rolled over, then got to his feet.  "Doggie," he said
menacingly, "you just made a big mistake."

     Sandra, behind the man, was scooping up Amy, picking
her up by the back of the neck, with her teeth.  We rarely
used our teeth like that, but this was an unusual situation.

     I could smell the man's friends coming up behind me. 
The jerk was grinning, like he was putting one over on me. 
He started feinting, pretending to swing at me, but I could
hear the footstep, right behind me.  I tensed, ready to
dodge to one side.

     "Right!  This has gone far enough!"

     Andy stood not two feet away, his head lowered.  I
could almost swear he was baring his fangs.  "Boys, you may
not recognize me, but I happen to be sheriff in this town. 
Now, obviously, you ain't gonna believe me, so I guess I'm
gonna have ta rough you up a little before I take ya to
jail.

     "So," he said, his voice dangerous, "You boys wanna
break it up. . .or you wanna give me a reason to tear you to
pieces?"

     The big man backed away, watching Andy warily.  I
glanced behind me, and his friend was also backing away. 
There were a few others, but they'd already taken off
running.  The other two joined them, and they were gone in a
few moments.

     Sandra breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thanks, Andy.  You
just saved our hides."

     "Almost got Amy killed, more like!"  Amy's mom grabbed
her up, sheltering her from us by one arm.  "Why can't you
just leave my little girl alone!"

     "If I hadn't stopped that man, he would have killed
Amy, and he would have killed her because she's a werewolf."

     The woman's eyes narrowed as she looked at me.  She
then turned to Sandra.  "If you hurt her, picking her up
like that, I'll. . ."

     She turned on her heel, stomping away.  Sandra watched
her leave, then glanced at me.  There was a look of pain in
her eyes.

     "You did the right thing," I told her.  "I'm sure it's
safe to pick up a werewolf like that."

     She nodded, slowly.  "It was just. . .instinct.  Oh, I
hope I didn't hurt her. . ."

          *         *         *         *         *

     I padded softly through the thick undergrowth, the
leaves crackling under my feet.  I twisted my way through
the brush, ducking under tangled branches, following paths
no human could detect.  There was something about the
shadows of the Big Thicket that drew me here, again and
again.  There was something about the sight and the smell of
it that I loved.  The forest was in my blood.

     Frank Carson's brother had a fishing cabin here.  The
sheriff and I had tracked him down, that day the sheriff
transformed.  He'd made a run for it, in that old Jeep of
his, but the sheriff and I were able to stop him.

     Now I was wondering where it was he was trying to go. 
I'd been following the Jeep's tracks all over the Big
Thicket, and they had led me here, to an old, abandoned
shack, out in the middle of the forest.

     I approached the shack cautiously, well away from the
dirt road, hiding in the cover of the dense forest.  I knew
the place well.  It was Billy's old cabin.  This was where
Billy had brought me, six months ago, when he kidnapped me
and tried to kill me.  Since Billy's arrest, I'd thought the
place was abandoned.

     The trees ended at a small clearing, with the shack at
its center.  It had seemed run down and abandoned the last
time I was here.  Now, it was rotting, the wood turning a
sickening shade of green.  The clearing in front of the
cabin, however, was marked with tire tracks, fresh tire
tracks, from several different vehicles.

     I stepped up to the door.  The musty stench of decay
hit my sensitive nose, as I stuck my head inside.  The light
filtered through holes in the crumbling roof, revealing a
floor littered with garbage and decaying wood.  Even so, the
wood seemed solid, and it held my weight as I gingerly
stepped into the cabin.

     A coil of rope lay discarded on the floor, frayed and
black with mold.  They'd used that rope to tie me up.  I
could almost feel it, wrapped tight around my arms and legs,
cutting into my wrists, as I struggled to get free.

     And then came the image, of Billy's rifle coming down
on Sandra's head.  I remembered her falling, collapsing like
a rag doll, as I fought to escape, straining against the
ropes.  She'd ducked the blow, just barely in time, but for
a moment, as I lay there, helpless, it seemed like I'd lost
her forever.  In that moment, nothing else mattered.

     I stepped back out of the door, into the sunlight.  My
ears picked up the click of a rifle being cocked.  I leaped,
back into the cabin, as the shot rang out, and the bullet
grazed the fur on my shoulder.  I quickly ducked behind the
door frame, as a second bullet followed the first.

     Not even a silver bullet.  I snorted.  Apparently, they
had finally figured out that regular bullets worked just as
well on us.

     "Police officer!"  I called out to them.  "Drop your
weapons."  Of course, they knew who I was, and they were not
going to listen to me, but procedure is procedure.

     A third shot rang out.  I leaned closer to the wall, my
ears turning, moving on top of my head.  Each shot they
fired gave me a better idea of where they were.  They seemed
to be only a couple of yards away.

     I snuck a peek out through the door.  Sure enough, they
were just on the other side of the clearing. There were two
of them, hiding behind one of the trees that dotted the lot
in front of the cabin.

     Another shot forced me to duck back inside.  "You don't
really think I'd be stupid enough to come out here alone, do
you?"  I asked them.

     The doorpost exploded, showering me with rotten wood,
as a bullet whizzed past my ear.  I jerked my head away from
the door, and then glanced around the cabin.  They had me
trapped, and they knew it.  When they realized that I didn't
have a gun. . .

     I jumped as a twig snapped.  The sound had come from
out in back of the building!  I dropped low, creeping away
from the doorway, but straining to pick up the slightest
noise.  I could just hear the rustle of leaves outside, as
someone moved around, sneaking over to the right side of the
shack.

     There was a window in the middle of the right wall,
just tall enough that someone could look through it. I crept
up underneath the window, crouching as low as I could. 
There was movement outside, and then a click, as a hammer
was pulled back.  A shadow moved across the light from the
window, and then the barrel of a rifle was thrust suddenly
into the room.

     I leaped upward, wrapping my arms around the barrel. 
The gun went off.  The explosion seemed deafening to my
wolf's ears, but I managed to keep my grip on the rifle, and
pry it out of its owner's hands.  The weapon flew across the
room.  The human stared at me, wide-eyed, as I rose up to
face him, and he turned to run.

     I leaped out through the window, landing on top of the
man.  He hit the ground with an "Oof!", and I rolled over,
back onto all four feet.  On the other side of the clearing,
the two men were levelling their rifles at me.

     Sandra burst out of the trees behind them, leaping at
the first of the snipers with a scream of fury.  She tore
the gun out of the first man's hands, then leaped at the
second.  He fired wildly at her, but Sandra's surprise
attack had caught him completely off guard.  For the moment,
we had the advantage.

     I charged across the field, just as the sheriff's
patrol car roared into the clearing, and skidded to a stop
in front of me.  Andy dropped out of the car, pulling his
gun out of its shoulder holster as he rolled across the
ground.  He came up, leveling his pistol across the hood of
the car.

     "Don't move!"  He yelled.  "You're both under arrest.
And don't think just 'cause I got paws for hands I can't
fire a gun. . ."

     The sheriff's pistol cracked.  Sandra leaped aside as a
branch dropped out of the tree above their heads, landing on
one of the men.  The humans fell to the ground, and even
Sandra looked a little stunned.

     "There ya go. . ." said the sheriff.

     I trotted back to the man I'd tackled.  I grabbed him
by his shirt, standing upright as I pulled him to his feet,
and shoved him toward the sheriff.  "See. . .I told you I
didn't come here alone."

     I dropped back to all fours as the sheriff grabbed the
man, forcing him into the patrol car.  Sandra, on the other
side of the car, had gathered up the other two men.  As she
shoved them into the sheriff's car, I looked up at Andy.

     "What took you so long?"

     His jaw tightened.  "I had some trouble with the car. 
I lost the keys under the seat. I couldn't get 'em out. . ."

     Andy rubbed his shoulder.  He was standing with one 
hand on the car's roof, to hold his weight, while he stood 
upright next to the car.

     "Are you okay?" I asked.  He'd winced, as if from pain,
just before he put his hand up to his shoulder.

     "Huh?  No, I'm fine."  He dropped his arm, and then 
looked down at his elongated hands.  "I hate this."  He 
finally said.

     "Don't be so hard on yourself," Sandra told him,
looking over the top of the car at him.  "I haven't gotten
up the nerve to drive a car at all.  I have to get Steve to
drive me around."

     "You want me to drive these guys back to the station?"

     Andy shook his head.  "No, I'm all right.  I drove all
the way here, right?"

     "Okay."  Sandra dropped out of sight, as the sheriff
got back into his car.  He pulled away, leaving Sandra
standing just a few feet away from me.

     "I left the car parked back up the road," I told her. 
"We're going to have to walk."

     She rolled her eyes.  "Great. . ."

     We headed back down the dirt path together, walking in
the shade of the trees.  The ground was soft, comfortable
under my feet, and the shadows of afternoon were spreading
out across the road.

     Sandra had grown quiet.  "You know, it's a lot cooler
than the last time we were here," she said.

     She was silent for a few more moments.  "We almost
didn't make it, that last time we were here. . ."

     Sandra walked beside me with her head down. Her long
hair hung down over her face, casting it in shadow.  From
the thick mane of her tousled hair, her huge ears thrust
outward, drooping dejectedly at the tips.

     "What's the matter?"

     Her eyes met mine, and then she looked away again. 
"Why do you keep risking your life like this?" she finally
asked.  "I'm just. . .so afraid. . .that one day. . ."

     "I know," I told her.  "I'm afraid, too.  I don't know
why people hate us so much.  I wish I could just. . .give
up, let somebody else worry about it all."

     I looked Sandra in the eye.  "But there isn't anybody
else.  Like it or not, when I led us all back into
Blackwood, I became the person most humans think of when
they think of 'werewolves'.  I have to set an example."

     "You don't have to be an example for me.  You don't
have to be an example for any of us.  Dave, Andy, the
deputy, they all know what kind of a person you are. . ."

     "It's not them I have to convince."  I told her.  "It's
Billy Nathan, and those like him."

     Sandra shook her head.  "You'll never convince _them_."

     The conversation fell silent as we approached my VW
Bug. Sandra waited while I fished my keys out of the pack I
wore over my shoulder, and unlocked my door.  Bracing myself
against the door frame, I managed to wrestle my misshapen
body into the car, tucking my tail up between my legs as I
sat down.  I then unlocked Sandra's door.

     Sandra joined me, brushing her hair carefully over her
chest, as she sat down upright in her seat.  For a moment, I
shifted around, trying to get comfortable, but I finally
just fished the seat belt out and pulled it around me.  As I
looked up at Sandra, she was staring down at the floor, an 
odd look on her face.

     Sandra's nose twitched as she sniffed the air, and
suddenly her eyes widened.  She reached across me, and threw
open my door.  She then shoved, hard, against my side.  "Get
out! Quick!"

     Then I heard it, a quiet ticking.  I grabbed Sandra
with both arms and leaped, out of the car.  There was a roar
of sound, and then the blast threw us both out into the
street.  I could feel the heat against my skin, as I dropped 
into the ditch, covering Sandra's body with my own.  There
was a second explosion, and debris rained down around us.

     I looked up.  My car was in flames, pieces of it
scatted all over the highway.  The entire front end of the
Beetle was gone, and the seats where we had been sitting,
only seconds before, were just a mass of blackened plastic
and twisted metal.

          *         *         *         *         *

     "You _are_ saying I can't do my job!"

     Andy jumped down off of the chair, and headed for the
door.  I stepped in front of him.  "That's not what he
means.  Hear him out, Andy."

     "Andy, we both know how much I respect you," the mayor
said. "You've done more for this town than any one man
should have to do.  You spend more time here than you do in
your County Offices. . .and I appreciate that.

     Dave sat back down at his desk.  "But you're under a
lot of stress right now.  On top of all the other things you
have to deal with, now you've got to deal with being a
werewolf.  It's too much for anyone to handle. Even you."

     Andy looked back at him.  "That's not what this is
about," he said cynically. "This is about me shootin' at
those two men."

     "Yes!"  Dave said.  "That isn't like you, Andy!  You
could have _killed_ those two men, showing off like that!"

     The mayor took a deep breath.  "Steve doesn't even use
a gun.  It's too hard for him to hold one.  Look at your
hands!  How can you use a gun the way you did before?!"

     "Now yer sayin' I can't shoot?!"  Andy yelled, his
voice angry.  "I'm the best damn marksman in the whole
county!"

     "Maybe you are!"  Dave countered.  "But that won't mean
a thing if those two decide to sue us.  And I can't say they
don't have a case!

     "We can't prove they had anything to do with Billy's
escape.  They both claim they haven't seen him.  All we can
hold them on is assault, on Steve.  But what if they claim
they were acting in self defense?  What does your little
stunt do for us then?"

     Andy was silent.

     "Look, I'm not blaming you for any of this.  You're
tired, that's all, and you need some rest.  That's why I
want you to take some time off, maybe go up to that cabin of
yours.  Just get away from things for a while. . .take some
time off for yourself."

     Andy just stood there, for a long moment.  "Time is the
one thing I don't have," he said, quietly.

     He raised his head, looked up at the mayor.  "This is
my case, and I'm not leaving.  If you want me off it, you'll
have to fire me."  He turned, and strode out of the room.

     Dave put a hand to his head.  He was silent for a long
moment.  "This is not like him," the mayor said, with a
sigh.  "This whole transformation thing has changed him."

     "It's not the Transformation," I answered.  "I know how
we look, but. . .I'm no wolf, Dave."

     He smiled at me, shaking his head.  "I don't know. 
I've seen you bare the old fangs when things don't go your
way."

     I scratched underneath my muzzle, with the tip of a
thumb claw.  "No.  I don't think that's it.  Sure, I'd be 
a fool if I said this hasn't changed me.  I think like a 
wolf, I react as a wolf, but I've learned to live with it,
to control it, just as you control _your_ instincts. Andy 
will learn, too. He just needs time."

     "It's the stress.  He's got so much to worry about, so 
much to do, and he has to deal with what he's become, as 
well.  He hasn't accepted what he is yet.  He doesn't _like_ 
being a werewolf. . ."

          *         *         *         *         *

     I walked out of the town hall and into the sunshine. 
Sandra was waiting for me, on the sidewalk in front of the
building.  Her golden blonde fur seemed to shimmer in the
midday sun, and her mane of auburn hair swirled gently
around her head and shoulders, moved about by the breeze.

     "So, what's going on?  Is he going?"

     I shook my head.  "He's too stubborn.  He's afraid if
he takes the vacation, the job won't be waiting for him when
he gets back."

     "He should know better than that," Sandra said.  "I'll
talk to him.  I can be very. . .persuasive."

     I grinned.  "I've noticed."

     "Hey, let's go to the park!" she said, suddenly, and
took off running down the sidewalk.  Before I could react,
she was already halfway down the street, heading for the
trees and bushes that marked the city limits.  I took off
after her in one powerful bound, already in a dead run, by
the time my hands hit the pavement.

     Blackwood had just the one major road.  The hospital 
was along its length, and a couple of other buildings. There 
were one or two gas stations, a single restaurant, but not 
much else.  Blackwood was a logging town, and not a very big 
one, at that.

     The town hall was near the city limits, and as the road 
went past it, streets and homes began to give way to shadowy 
forest. Just inside the border that separated the town from 
wilderness, a small park had been fenced in, the underbrush 
cleared away, and a few benches placed here and there.

     In the summer, the park was always busy.  Humans would
come for picnics, or to escape from the hot Texas sun, in
the shade of the trees.  It was hard for us to just sit
there, listening to the humans, to their insults, their
muttered complaints about werewolves in 'their' park.

     But now it was winter, and the park was empty.  The
trees were bare and lifeless, and the grass had grown high,
and choked with weeds.  The trees cast grey shadows across
the cool ground, and the wind was chilly.

     I paused, just outside the park.  Inside, Sandra
bounded playfully through the tall grass, leaping and
dancing in the shifting patterns of light.   I shot forward,
racing across the field, and tackled her, throwing us both
to the ground.

     Sandra laughed as we rolled over and over.  I stood up,
straddling her with my four legs, and she propped herself up
on her elbows underneath me.  She then looked down at her
chest, adjusting the hair that grew from her shoulders. 
That hair was long and silky, like the hair on her head, and
it hung down over a part of her body not covered in fur. . .

     "Careful," she said.  "I'm liable to expose something."

     "You mean like last time?" I asked.  "That wasn't my
fault -- You did _that_ on purpose."

     "You didn't seem to mind."  She ran a finger down
through that hair, playing with it.

     "It was right here, too.  Right here in this very
park."

     "Yes. . .You looked like you were going to tell me
something. . .but we were interrupted."

     "By, Danny, of course.  We're always interrupted."

     She smiled at me, her brown eyes glittering.  "But
Danny's in Houston.  He can't interrupt us now."

     "No, he can't."

     "So what were you going to tell me?"

     I kissed her.

     For a moment, the kiss seemed a little awkward, even
strange.  My muzzle bumped against hers, and she chuckled, a
short, muffled sound.  But her lips were soft, and full, and
warm.  Her arms went around my back, pulling me closer, and
then all else was forgotten.

     There was a rustling above my head.  "Steve!  There you
are. . .Oh, my!  Uh. . .I'm sorry!"

     Deputy Silvers was standing a few feet away, one arm
over his face, backing away from us.  He dropped his arm a
bit, stealing a glance at me, and then just as quickly
covered his face again.

     Sandra leaned her head back, looking up at him.

     "_What_???"

     I could not suppress a snicker.  Sandra sounded
positively infuriated.

     "Um. . .Uh. . .I was just. . .Uh."

     "Well, come on," I said.  "Spit it out."

     "The. . .the mayor sent me to get you," Silvers said. 
"We've found Billy."

     I leaped to my feet.  "What!  When?  Have you
questioned him about the bomb?"

     "No."  The deputy looked at me, strangely, almost
fearfully.  "We won't be able to question him about
anything."

     He hesitated, just for a second.  "He's dead.  A
werewolf killed him.  One 'a your people must have gotten to
him first."

          *         *         *         *         *

     I could see them, beyond the glass doors, gathered in
the lobby of the town hall.  The protesters pushed and
shoved, trying to force their way past Silvers, and the
three men we'd so quickly deputized.  They yelled at
Silvers, at the men, at the receptionist. . .even at each
other.

     I stepped a little further back behind the door.  It
wouldn't do for one of them to see me.  The sheriff and I
had needed to be brought in through the back door, just to
get us in the building at all.  It was just like six months
ago. . .

     There was a commotion at the end of the hall.  Silvers
opened the glass doors of the lobby, leading Mrs. Nathan
through.  The security men shoved the crowd back as Silvers
walked towards me, with one arm around the grieving woman's
shoulder.

     As they passed, the woman looked up, and spotted me in
the shadows.  Her face twisted into a grimace of rage.  She
leaped at me, driving both of her fists into my ribs, with
enough force to knock the wind out of me.

     "Monster! MONSTER!" she yelled, pounding on my back and
shoulders.  I drew back, trying to shield my head with an
arm.  Silvers and another man pulled her off of me, as she
screamed, hysterically, kicking and flailing.

       The guard dragged her away, down the hallway, but she
called out to me, a look of wildness in her eyes.  "My
husband don't know nuthin' about no damn bombs!  You hear? 
My husband don't know nuthin' about bombs!"

     There was a shout from the crowd.  Silvers crouched
down in front of me, blocking the view of the crowd in the
lobby.  "They've spotted you.  We'd better get you out of
here."

     We ducked down the hall and into an empty office.  As 
Silvers shut the door, I slammed a fist against my shoulder,
letting out the growl that welled up inside me.

     "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," said the deputy. 
"You're not responsible for Billy's death.  If anything. . .
I am."

     He frowned, looking back at the door.  For just a
moment there, I'd seen a flash of guilt in his eyes.  I
stepped a little closer to him.  "What do you mean?  Just
because Billy got away from you?  That wasn't your fault."

     "Yes, it was. . ."

     His voice trailed off, and he stared at the door for a
long moment.  Finally, his shoulders slumped.  "I. . .I fell
asleep, that night, when I was supposed to be watching
Billy.  It was just for a few moments, but. . ."

     I put a hand on his shoulder.  "No wonder the sheriff
was so mad at you."

     He looked shocked.  "No!  I never told him.  I
couldn't. He'd kill me if he knew."

     "You're going to _have_ to tell him.  That crowd's
calling for an investigation, and if something like this
comes out, it'll look bad for us.  I know you don't want to
get in trouble, but it could be even worse for the sheriff
and I."

     He shook his head.  "I can't tell him.  You tell him. 
I'd be too afraid to."

     "I think _you_ should tell him.  It's the only way
you're going to be able to face what you've done."

     I leaned forward a bit, to look him in the eye.  "You
made a mistake.  That doesn't make you responsible for
Billy's death.  The werewolf who killed Billy is the one
responsible, and I'm going to find him.  I promise."

     Silvers shook his head.  I could see that he wasn't 
convinced.

          *         *         *         *         *

     "Well, no one can accuse you of bringing along too much
stuff," I said, pulling the suitcase out of the trunk of the
patrol car.  I slung it over one shoulder, and hopped along
on three legs, as I headed over toward the Blazer, where
Sandra waited.

     "I haven't had that much to pack," Sandra said, "Ever
since I stopped wearing clothes."

     "Not to mention that suitcases are a lot harder to
handle nowadays."  I shoved the case in among Andy's things,
in the back of the Blazer.

     Andy, meanwhile, was wrestling with his ice chest.  He
was bracing himself upright against it, but couldn't stand
up long enough to lift it.  The ice chest bumped along on
the porch, as he tried to pick it up, and dropped it a few
inches further along.

     "Hold on there," I told him.  "You can't carry that
alone. . ."

     "I've got it!"  Andy protested.

     I leaped up onto the porch.  "No, no.  You can't stand
up with something that heavy.  Our hips can't handle it. 
Here."  I grabbed one side of the chest in one hand, lifting
it off the ground, while shifting my weight onto my other
hand.

     "Now, you pick up that side."  He did so, and we
carried the chest down off of the porch.  "There you go," I
told him.  "You just have to learn to walk on three legs."

     He snorted.  "I'm just now learning how to walk on
_four_ legs."

     "Well, at least you can laugh about it," Sandra said
with a smile, as she joined us.  "Don't worry.  After a
while it'll all seem like second nature to you."

     He sighed.  "I don't know how I let you two talk me
into this."

     "The break will do you good, and you can't do anything
here, anyway.  We've been taken off the case.  There's
nothing we can do."

     "Don't give me that," Andy said, darkly.  "You want to
solve this thing as much as I do."

     "Yes," Sandra cut in, "but he's in a better position to
do it than you are."

     Andy stared at Sandra, surprised by her bluntness, but
she smiled back at him.  "As much as we owe for all you've
done for us, you've never _been_ one of us until now.  Steve
knows every werewolf in this county, maybe even in this
state.  If anyone can find out who the killer is, he can."

     Andy's head drooped.  "Besides," I put in.  It's not
going to be easy, what with the investigation, and all. 
I've been taken off the force.  The mayor and Silvers are
all we have left."

     The sheriff's eyes narrowed.  "That idiot.  He couldn't
solve this case if I handed it to him."  He looked up at me. 
"You know why Billy escaped?  He fell asleep, that's why."

     Sandra's eyes met mine, and her mouth fell open in
shock, but I nodded.  "I know.  He told me.  That's in the
past.  Right now, Billy is dead, and his case is closed. 
You don't have to protect me anymore."

     The sheriff grunted, a short, guttural sound, almost
like a chuckle.  He then turned around and headed back into
his house.

     When I looked over at Sandra, she was staring at me. 
"I'm glad you talked to him," I said.  "He really needs your
help right now."

     "He needs _you_ right now."  She smiled.  "We both do."

     I sighed.  "Whoever committed this murder, he's still a
werewolf, and he's still one of my people. . .maybe one of
my friends.  If that mob gets a hold of him, he's as good as
dead.  I owe it to all of us to find Billy's murderer, and
make sure he gets justice."

     Sandra was silent a moment, but then she shook her
head.  She glanced up at me, with a sly grin.  "Well, you
find him fast, and then you get up here."  She eyed me
coyly, biting her lower lip.  "Then we can finish that
conversation that Silvers interrupted."

     "Conversation?" I asked, smiling.  "I don't remember
any conversation.  As I recall, we weren't doing much
talking."

     "Well, no," she said, "once I got you to shut up. . ."

     She raised one arm, placing her hand up against my
face.  I felt a claw brush against my cheek, and then she
turned and followed the sheriff inside.

          *         *         *         *         *

     Kat found me in the impound lot, underneath the remains
of my car, collecting the residue left behind by the bomb.  
"Steve?" she asked.  "Can I talk to you?"

     I could see her white paws on the concrete, just next
to the rear wheel.  "Go ahead," I said.  "I'm listening."

     "Well. . ." she sighed.  "I think something's wrong."

     I poked my head out from under the car.  She looked
down at me, a very worried look on her face. A clipboard 
was held pinned between her arm and her body.

     "I've run this test three times, and I don't know what
to do.  I can't give this to Dave.  Everyone will think that
we messed with the evidence."

     "Kat, what's wrong?"

     She looked at the clipboard.  "I just finished the 
autopsy on Billy, and. . .it just doesn't make any sense.  
Every test I run shows the same thing.

     She paused a moment.  "Steve. . .he's been dead for at
least two weeks."

     It took a moment to sink in.  "Wait a minute.  He's
only been out of _jail_ for two weeks.  Are you saying he
was killed less than a day after he escaped?"

     "More like. . .less than an hour.  If my calculations
are correct, he was dead within minutes of his escape."

     "Then he couldn't have planted the bomb."  I put a hand
against the sooty metal of the VW's frame, laying my head 
back against the concrete floor.  And Mrs. Nathan had said 
that her husband knew nothing about bombs. . .

     "I've tried everything."  Kat sounded like she was
about to start crying.  "I've got to be doing something
wrong, but I just can't. . ."

     "No!"  I started to climb out from under the car.  "If
that's what the tests say. . ."

     Suddenly, there was a sharp pain from my shoulder, as a
bit of metal cut across my skin.  Grunting from the pain, I
put a hand up to stop the bleeding, and then looked up at
what had cut me.

     There was a sharp piece of metal hanging down from the
chassis right under the driver's side door.  It was just a 
rusted out section of floor, untouched by the blast, and 
hanging from it was a bit of my hair -- and someone else's, 
as well.

     "What is that?" Kat said, as I crawled out from under
the car, cradling the single, short strand in my hand.  It
was dark, brownish black, and wiry.  "Is that a hair?"

     I shook my head.  "Hair, like on a human's head -- like
on our heads -- is long, and delicate.  This is thick, thick
enough to repel cold, and water."

     I held it up to her, in my open palm.  "This is fur."

     She stared at me, silent, for a long moment.  She was
confused, but she had heard the fear in my voice.

     "What if we've been going about this all wrong?  We've
been assuming that since Billy was out of jail, he was the
one who set the bomb, he was the one who wanted me dead.

     "But what if _I_ wasn't the target?  What if the real
target was someone that always rides with me, in my car? 
What if the target was Sandra?

     "And what if the killer is someone who blames Sandra
for his being a werewolf. . ."

     Kat stared at me in shock.  "Oh, my God."

     I began pacing up and down on the concrete.  "There's 
only one werewolf who could have helped Billy escape.  That 
same werewolf is the only person who could have planted the 
bomb, while Sandra and I were pinned down at the shack by 
Billy's men."

     "And that same werewolf told me not two hours ago that 
Silvers had fallen asleep at his post -- something Silvers 
would _never_ have told him.  He's too afraid. . .too afraid 
of Andy. . ."

     Kat covered her face with her hands, but I grabbed her
arms, pulling them away, to look her in the eye.

     "You've got to call Silvers, tell him to join me at
Andy's cabin.  I'll take your car, and see if I can stop
him.  I just hope I'm not too late. . ."

          *         *         *         *         *

     The pavement rushed past me, cutting into my feet as
they pounded, repeatedly, against the hard asphalt.  My ears
lay flat back against my head, whipped back by the force of
the wind, as I raced along.  The pain meant nothing to me.

     I had left Katherine's car behind, about a mile back. 
I didn't need it.  The doctor had once clocked me running at
forty miles an hour.  I intended to beat that record. 
Sandra's life was at stake.

     I turned off onto the dirt road. In a matter of seconds, 
I'd reached the driveway in front of Andy's cabin. The door 
stood wide open. I leaped through the doorway, into the 
living room.

     The room was empty.  Books and furniture were scattered
around on the floor.  A few chairs were broken, and a
bookshelf lay fallen across the door to the kitchen.  The
scent of sweat -- of fear and anger -- hung in the air.

     In front of the couch, on the table, a couple of books
lay open, spread out for reading.  Behind, a cabinet stood,
full of books, jars of herbs, and small boxes.  One of the
boxes had fallen to the floor.  Silver bullets spilled from
it.

     On the floor next to the table a book had been dropped. 
On the cover was the symbol of a pentagram, and the title,
"Werewolves in Myth and Legend".  I picked it up, and turned
it over, to the page Sandra must have been reading, when
Andy walked in and discovered her.

     "Once you have become a werewolf," it read, "the only
way to break the curse is to kill the werewolf that passed
the curse on to you."  The line was underlined.

     I charged back out the door, stopping outside, to sniff
the air.  Nothing.  Andy's sense of smell was as keen as
mine, and Sandra knew that.  If I could smell her, then he
could smell her.

     But. . .if Sandra guessed that I would be coming after
her. . .how could she let me know where she was, without
letting Andy know?

     I had one advantage, but it was also a disadvantage.  I
was a wolf, not a bloodhound, I was no good at tracking
scents on the ground.  That meant that Andy was no good at
it, too.  The only way either of us would be able to track
Sandra would be to pick up her scent from the air.

     The wind was coming from the north.  If she headed
south, away from the wind, it would carry her scent away.  I
started to trot off to the south, but then stopped.

     If Sandra were running from Andy, he'd be right behind
her.  She would run into the wind, hoping to lose him, but 
if she thought I might be coming after her, she'd circle 
around, back to the north, and let the wind carry her scent 
to me.

     If he lost her, Andy might return to the shack. Sandra
would try to meet me somewhere else. . .at the road!

     I took off running to the east, where the dirt path cut
into the forest.  I paused every few seconds to test the
air, and suddenly, just for a moment, I caught a whiff of
Sandra's perfume.

     I crashed into the brush, ignoring the sting of the
dirt grinding into the pads of my feet.  There was a shift
in the wind, and suddenly the smell of perfume was strong. 
I charged toward the source of the scent, leaping and
dodging through the undergrowth, and over fallen trees.

     The sound of a gunshot echoed through the forest. Then 
a second shot, and Sandra screamed, a loud, agonized sound.  
She was only a few yards ahead.  I could hear her, pleading
with Andy.

     "Please.  Don't do this."  Her voice was strained,
tight with agony.  "The legends are just legends.  Some of
them are right, but most of them are _wrong_!"

     "I'm sorry," came Andy's answer.  "I have to know.  If
there were any other way. . .but I have to be sure!"

     There was still something calm and controlled in Andy's
voice, but I could hear the fear, and the hatred, as well. 
How long had he been like this?  Why hadn't I noticed?

     I broke from the trees, and leaped at him.  He stood
over Sandra, holding his gun to her head.  I struck him full
force in the arm, hoping to knock the gun away.

     He looked up as he saw me coming, but was too late to
dodge.  We slid across the ground, rolling, and I leaped
back to my feet.  To my surprise, Andy still had the gun. He
had taped it to his hand.

     I dodged, leaping straight up into the air, and
sideways, as Andy fired.  As I came down, I darted forward,
slamming into him again.  With one hand encumbered by the
gun, Andy wouldn't be able to move very fast.  I had to take
advantage of that.

     I grappled with him, shoving his gun arm away, while
sinking my teeth into his shoulder.  I wasn't trying to kill
him, just shock him back to reality.  Andy managed to twist
aside, however, and forced me down onto the ground.

     The sheriff was a lot stronger than I was.  I couldn't
let him pin me down.  I brought my arm up across his muzzle,
then slammed my fist into his midsection.  As he doubled
over, I leaped away, rolling back to my feet.

     "Andy!  Stop this, now!  I've been fighting like this a
lot longer than you have!"  I could see Sandra watching us,
worried, but lying on the ground, clutching her leg.  She
was bleeding, badly, from the inside of her thigh, and her 
leg was twisted at a strange angle.

     I charged back in, not giving Andy time to use the gun. 
We grappled again, but this time I planted my feet firmly on
the ground, hoping I could beat his strength with a little
more leverage.

     I knew how to stand in this body, to give myself the
leverage I needed, but Andy apparently had figured it out as
well.  Still, I had two hands free, while Andy's taped gun
hand was proving useless.  We struggled, neither one able to
get the advantage.

     "Come _on_!" I grunted.  "You're a cop, Andy, not a
murderer!  Killing Sandra is not going to turn you back into
a human!"

     "You don't know that!" he answered.  "The legends. . ."

     "The legends are wrong!  You don't need silver bullets
to kill us.  We don't turn back into humans during the day. 
We aren't monsters, Andy!"

     "But we _are_ werewolves!  The change took place under
a full moon!  And Sandra did pass it on to me!!!"

     He shoved me aside, and I dropped back to all fours,
dancing back and forth as he tried to draw his gun up.  I
dodged around him, and grabbed him from behind. He fired 
blindly in Sandra's direction, but missed her, although she 
shrieked, and strained to pull herself to safety.  Her leg 
was useless, however, the bone shattered, and she cried out 
from the pain.

     "Andy, please!  Let us help you.  If you kill either of
us, you're a murderer. . .and you'll have to live being a
werewolf anyway. . ."

     Andy shoved upward with his shoulder, forcing my arm 
up near his face. He twisted his head, and sank his teeth 
into my arm. I cried out, flinching away from him, as he 
managed to work himself loose. Andy leaped at my throat, but 
I dropped to the ground, rolling, and he staggered past me.

     I braced myself for his charge as he came at me again. 
His eyes were wild, his fangs bared. The gun was making him 
limp slightly, but he was too angry to think about using it. 
He threw himself at me, and I shoved him aside with both 
arms, keeping my shoulders hunched to protect my neck.

     There was a sound from the underbrush, the crash of 
someone forcing his way through the trees. Sandra called out 
to him, and Silvers' voice answered. Andy started to turn, 
to fire at Sandra again, and I leaped at him. He was ready 
for my charge, and our arms locked. I struggled to keep the 
gun pointed up and away from Sandra.

     Silvers burst into the clearing, his rifle at the ready.  
"Sheriff! Drop the gun!" He ordered, leveling his weapon at 
Andy's head. Andy struggled to pull away from me, but I knew 
that the only thing that way keeping Silvers from firing was 
that he was afraid he would hit me.

     "He can't drop the gun, Silvers!" I told him.  "It's 
taped to his hand!"

     "Understood." He paused only a moment. "Andy, step away 
from Steve, sit back on your haunches, and put your hands in 
the air."

     Standard procedure.  I had developed that position, the 
werewolf equivalent of putting your hands behind your head.  
Since werewolves could not stand upright, a slight variation 
was required.

     Andy was not listening, however.  He struggled with me,
fighting to free his arms from my grip, to point his gun at
Sandra.  Even if Silvers could shoot him before he pulled the
trigger, there was still a chance that Andy would be able to
fire, before he passed out.  Sandra had collapsed from the
pain, and was breathing hard.  Even a stray bullet might kill
her.

     "He has only one shot left, Silvers!" I said.  "I don't 
believe that he will shoot me, he's trying to kill Sandra."
That wasn't true, but in all the confusion, maybe Andy had 
lost track.  If he thought he had only one bullet left, he 
wouldn't fire unless he was _sure_ he could hit.

     "I understand, Steve," Silvers responded.  "But I know 
my duty, to you and to her."  He kept his rifle leveled at 
Andy's head, his finger on the trigger, waiting.

     The Sheriff again tried to force his arm down.  I
brought his hand up and around, trying the turn the gun back
on him, but Andy seemed to sense the manuever, and stopped
me.  All I had to do was shove him away, and Silvers would do
the rest.  But I had a duty, too. . .to someone who had been
my friend, to someone who trusted me, no matter how
misguided he had become.

     "It's over, Andy!  The moment you fire, Silvers will
shoot!  You know that!"

     "At least I will die as a man!"

     "Many of us have died, Andy!  None of us have _ever_
changed back. . .even in death!"

     "But you don't know if any of those werewolves passed
it on to anyone.  You're the only one that we _know_ was the
first!"

     His fangs ripped into my arm again, and I cried out,
but did not let him go.  He twisted around, trying to slash 
at my throat, and it took everything I had to keep him away. 
He was snarling, growling, crazed by anger, frustration, and 
fear.  

     "I have to know," he muttered.  "I have to know."

     Andy struggled to point his gun hand back at Sandra.  I 
pulled it back, and then, half from desperation, I shoved it 
down between the two of us.  Andy was too suprised by the move 
to stop it.  The gun was now pointed right at my leg.

     "It all started with me, right?"

     "Huh?"  Andy looked startled.

     "That's what Kat said.  That's what _you_ said.  I was
the first."

     "Yeah, I guess so."  Andy redoubled his efforts.

     "Then, if _I_ die, Sandra will change back."  I
grunted the statement, fighting to keep the gun aimed 
downward.

     Andy didn't answer.  "Right?" I asked.

     "I guess. . ."

     "And if you kill me, and Sandra doesn't change back --
if no one changes back -- then you'll know, right?"

     "No!" Sandra protested.  "Steve!"

     I pulled the gun up, across my body.  "Then if it's a
life you want, it's a life you'll get."

     The shot was drowned out by Sandra's scream.  I felt
the impact, more than I heard it.

          *         *         *         *         *

     I awoke in a bed at the hospital.  I put a hand to my
belly, wincing at the pain, and found a bandage wrapped
tightly around my middle.  Sandra sat in a chair next to the
bed, slumped over, her eyes closed.  Her leg was in a cast,
sticking out sideways from the chair, and she was lying
against the bed, with her head cradled in her arm.

     Sandra looked up, and her jaw tightened as she saw I
was awake.  "Don't you _ever_ do that again," she said,
angrily, but her voice was choked with tears.

     "What happened?" I managed to ask.

     "You took a bullet in the chest," came a voice to my
left. Kat stood there, balanced on her back legs, supporting
herself with one hand on the bed. "I just barely got to you
in time."  She reached up over my head, adjusting something
that was positioned behind me.

     "I meant to Andy," I said.

     Sandra took a deep, shaky breath. "He fell apart.  When
he didn't change back -- when _I_ didn't change back -- he
just curled up in a ball and waited for Silvers to take him 
away. I guess the shock of what he'd done finally brought 
him back to reality."

     I put a hand to my forehead.  "What is it about this
Transformation that brings out the worst in us?"

     Sandra's expression softened, and she put out a hand,
to touch my face.  "Not in all of us," she said.

     I smiled at her.  She gazed down at me, her huge brown
eyes red-rimmed, from crying.  I could still see the fear
and anguish in her face, but as she smiled back at me, my
heart seemed to leap into my throat.  She was just
beautiful.

     "I had to do it," I told her.  "I couldn't live without
you."

     She blinked back tears.  "I couldn't live without you
either."

     "Well. . .I'm still alive. . ."  I sighed.  "So I guess
we still don't know whether Andy was right or not."

     "I wouldn't say that," cut in Kat.  "By the time we got
to you, your heart had stopped.  I was able to bring you
back. . .but for a few moments there, you were dead."

     Sandra grabbed me by the shoulders, gently, but firmly. 
"I don't care about that.  I almost lost you.  I never want
to feel like that again."

     "I know.  I'm sorry."  I stared up at the ceiling. 
There was a long silence.

     "But if there _were_ some way to change you back. . ."

     Sandra shut her eyes, blinking away tears as she hid
her face behind one hand.  "Oh, Steve.  I don't want to be
human again.  Not without you."

     "But six months ago, when Billy almost killed you. . ."
I sighed, put a hand on hers.  "Sandra, if you weren't a
werewolf, you would be safe. . ."

     Sandra put a hand to my lips.  She gave me a sad smile, 
the corners of her mouth tugging upwards, just at the base 
of her muzzle.  "Steve, I gave up long ago on us ever being
safe again.  We are what we are. . .and you are what you
are."

     She turned away from me, her hair falling across her
face, as she looked at the floor.  "I've been worried about
you since the first day I met you.  I've always been afraid
I was going to lose you.  But I had no idea you felt that
way about _me_."

     "Sandra. . .I love you."

     Sandra's face lit up as she turned back to me.  She 
leaned over, and pressed her lips hard against mine.  Kat 
made only the tiniest noise as she slipped out of the room, 
and this time we weren't interrupted.