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Chapter 7: Kitchen Encounter

"I'm a werewolf," he repeats like I didn't hear him clearly the first time. It's not every day a young man walks into your life, has his eyes change color, and proceeds to tell you he's a werewolf. Flashbacks of last night's cave rescue make their way back into my mind. He was bloody and had scratches everywhere. The blood from his sheets this morning proves that something indeed happened to him in the cave. Was it all self-inflicted? Did he do this to himself? Or is his tall tale true? Are there really men who walk among us and howl to the moon on a full night? I can hardly believe I am having this internal conversation.

"A werewolf? Like the ones, I hear about in the movies? So do I need to buy a silver bullet then?"

All jokes aside, he was afraid of one the moon the night be last before he went galavanting toward the cave. The moon was at its fullest last night, and his eyes turned with it. Could his story really be true? I am having a hard time believing it myself. But if he rea
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