The night sky was bright and clear, a slice of the Hunter’s Moon shining down through the sea of stars above. The moon illuminated the path of a stranger who ran down the mountain towering behind the town of Midvale. But dawn was quickly approaching, and he did not stop to rest, though he had been running the entire night.

He prayed he would make it in time.

The cloaked stranger bounded down the mountainside, clutching a shivering, naked child protectively to his breast.

Only a few minutes prior, the stranger had nearly given up hope searching for this, his youngest son, who had not come home for the evening meal. He had tracked his son’s scent across the entire mountainside, barely recognizable in the dampened autumn air from a fierce afternoon downpour. He scolded himself for ever wanting to turn back to his castle. If he had turned away a moment earlier, he never would have found him until the spring thaw.

He had discovered the young boy under the shade of a towering pine. He had tried to dig some kind of makeshift burrow but failed and laid naked there for at least a few hours. A pool of his own blood spread from the iron trap crushing his foot. One look at the wound confirmed the stranger’s worst fear. It was no ordinary snare. The parts that weren’t covered in dried blood shined with the glint of polished silver. It ate into the young one’s flesh like acid, his eyes wide with fear. He could only whimper, raising his fingers towards him. The stranger didn’t dare remove the trap himself, lest it poison him as well, so he pulled on a glove and ripped the entire device from the ground, the chain rattling loudly behind him as he barreled headlong down the steep slopes between the towering blue fir pines.

He could not take him home, though he yearned to bring him to safety. No one at the castle would be able to remove such a trap. None of his kind could. But a human, if this one could truly so kindhearted as the rumors said, perhaps she could.

Of the two human doctors known in the valley of Midvale, he knew only one of them would treat his son. Although he did not wish to take him there, he knew he had no other choice. If left untreated, his son would perish before the dawn. That is, if he wasn’t already dying now in his arms. The boy’s lips and cheeks had taken on a pale, ghostly color and his breaths came in shuddering wheezes.

The stranger did not linger as he approached the railroad tracks, slowing only to check for the on-coming trains which frequently thundered by with little warning at best. He slipped down the steeper slope beyond them, turning towards the town before he got too close to the river below, where he knew he would not be welcomed. He knew his territory by smell and could almost see the exact border where the autumn air hung heavy with moisture and the smell of dampened, moldy ground. He dared not take the main road into the town either, keeping close into the protective shadows of the forest, holding his hood down in case he was spotted by an enemy lurking nearby. If the frequency of those traps on his mountain were any indication, there were indeed enemies lurking everywhere.

He came upon the town proper and slowed, his bare feet skidding in the wet mud covering the ground. He kept to the shadows, watching the buildings warily. Most of the windows in the brick buildings were dark, but the gas street lights blazed with flames, marking the ground with sharp angles of light. He skirted these like patches of quicksand, his ears ever alert for following footsteps. Once he reached the edge of the last building in town he paused.

Ahead lay Harrington Manor, separated from the town proper by what amounted to a few blocks of empty space, the cobblestone street the only indication that it had ever been part of the town at all. As the road neared the manor, its upkeep decreased, the stones turning loose or missing completely, weeds sprouting from all the cracks. He hesitated in crossing this space. He could be plainly seen here. Taking another look at the lit street behind him and then again at his son’s pale face, he sprinted forward, not stopping to pull back his hood as a blast of wind blew it loose, his long black hair flowing behind him.

Iron gates protruded from a high brick wall that circled the entire estate. They were wide open, revealing the grounds of the estate just inside. He passed through them without hesitation, slowing only as he ducked into an ancient blue fir larger than the manor itself. He rested here, spying on the Manor proper between the swaying branches, just a short sprint away at best.

Unlike the town buildings, the lights were all on inside the manor, casting long rectangles of light onto the ground just before him. He couldn’t wait until he was sure the other patients had left. He would enter now and hope for the best. He approached the two-story manor, keeping an eye on the windows for any attack. She had restored much of the exterior in the time she had arrived, putting on new shutters and several fresh coats of paint that he could still smell. Curtains prevented him from seeing what lay inside, only the shadows milling about behind them. The gilded letters drawn artistically across the front windows reassured him he was at the right place:

DR. MEDINA HARPER
Doctor of Supernatural Medicine and Paranormal Psychology

He leapt onto the porch, and winced when the old boards creaked under his weight. He moved forward slowly, examining a gilded sign hanging behind the glass of the front door’s small window with a tilt of his head:

Autumn Hours:

            Monday through Friday (5:00pm to 7:00am)

            Saturdays & Sundays (8:00pm to 7:00 am)

He adjusted his hood low over his face as his knuckles rapped heavily on the door, his gloved fist leaving a dent in the softened wood before he realized it. When the door opened, he frowned as he sniffed a familiar scent. He snarled, bearing his sharp canines to the gentleman who answered the door.

“Fritz…” The stranger snarled in a low voice.

Although the young man wore a tidy suit and stood with elegant posture, his eyes betrayed his true identity. The irises were orange like burning embers in a dying fire. Even as he spoke, one could see how his canines appeared sharper than any man’s really should; especially since the moon was out, though it was not full enough to show anything more. He wore a coat with long sleeves and black gloves over his hands. Hands and arms that would be thick with coarse hair. How cunning, the stranger thought.

“Good evening,” Fritz said, though there was no welcome in his tone.

“Breathe a word of my name and our pact is broken,” the stranger whispered.

“As you wish,” he replied, motioning for him to enter, bowing deeply to him as he opened the door for the stranger. Fritz shut the door behind him, the three brass bells tinkling in his wake.

“Where is this doctor woman?” The stranger’s eyes also reflected the orange light flickering from the gas lamps on the walls. He kept a hand on the hood of his cloak.

“Dr. Harper is currently treating another patient, but will see you shortly,” Fritz replied, keeping his voice even, but his stare said something more.

“She will see us now,” he roared, “Look!” The stranger thrust the child’s foot towards his face, the dirty wooden stake dangling from the trap’s chain. The wound smelled of death. It had swollen, oozing with puss and reddened with irritation. Fritz’s nostrils flared sharply, but he did not flinch at the sight of it. “He cannot wait!”

“Please have a seat, sir,” Fritz insisted, “As you can see there are others waiting here as well.”

The stranger turned slowly, holding his son close. At first he hadn’t noticed any of others in the waiting room where he stood, but could feel all their eyes upon him now. He pulled his hood down further, hoping no one present had recognized him in his fearful haste. They had all been so quiet, sitting like porcelain dolls among the hodge-podge collection of faded armchairs, chaise lounges, and sofas scattered about the waiting room.

He turned slowly, taking in the other figures. A chill ran through him figure barely visible as a whitish tint in the air passed. She faded in and out of vision, drifting through anything in her way as she paced in mid-air. He stepped swiftly out of the ghost’s way, spying another woman in the far corner. Upon making eye contact, she pulled her own hood down as well, turning away to the wall. A vampire. He could smell the blood on her. He turned more and spotted the last occupant, an elderly troll, who stared openly at him from his armchair, his bulbous features still as a mountain as he held a thick book between his chubby fingers. Did this one recognize him? He did not think so. Anyone who did know him wouldn’t dare stare so freely unless they were engaged in mortal combat.

“Imogene!” Fritz called as he kept an eye on the stranger.

A moment later, another ghostly head poked through the ceiling, looking around. It was the face of a young girl with two long pigtails that swung gently as if caught in a gentle breeze. She smirked at him. “You called?”

“We have a medical emergency. Can you tell Dee?”

She nodded and pulled her head back through the ceiling. Footsteps echoed above them, but the talking was muffled by the floors.

“The doctor will be down shortly,” Fritz said as he made his way to the receptionist desk, sitting down behind the counter in a leather-backed chair. “Please take a seat,” he indicated vaguely around the room.

The stranger could have left then, and he almost considered it until his son coughed, opening his eyes wearily. He looked at him a little blankly, almost not recognizing him. But then he began to cry softly, possibly from relief. The stranger nuzzled his son’s forehead. He noticed the others were openly watching him, so he growled a brief warning as he stalked about. He finally chose a red velvet couch framed with carved dark wood. Honestly, he mainly chose it because it was the furthest seat from the receptionist’s desk. He and Fritz avoided any eye direct contact, although they both were watching each other carefully. It had been a long while since the stranger had seen him last, and though his looks were more human, he could never hide his true scent. The other waiting patients sat in silence as well, save for the occasionally flip of a book page or soft sigh from the ghost. As he waited, he gripped the edge of the couch arm, digging his fingernails against the wood, wishing they were his claws and that he was sharpening them.

There were many books scattered around, stacked on short side tables and even some spilling onto the cushions and many more abandoned on the floor. Human literature, ha! Even if the stranger felt so inclined to read anything he wouldn’t touch the stuff. The floor beneath him was littered with a stack he had swept off the couch before sitting down. As he shifted uncomfortably, his son still cradled in his arms, he used a stack of them as a footstool, muddying the covers with his bare, hairy feet. At the very least it was warm and dry in this place, and his son’s shaking had abated slightly, though he feared that was only a sign that his condition was worsening.

All eyes turned to the door as it opened. A long, pale face peeked out of it. Dark circles underlined the young woman’s drooping eyes. Her hair was carefully pinned back in a large bun, but a large strand had come loose, drooping into her face. She brushed this bit back with her gloved hand as she scanned the room methodically.

“What’s the emergency?” she asked Fritz.

The stranger leapt to his feet as he carried his son towards her. “Treat him immediately!” He stumbled over the books he had been resting his feet on, nearly dumping his son onto the floor in his haste.

The woman noticed the long chain with its muddy stake dangling from the man’s arm and hurried out, shoving aside the door as it banged against the wall. She knelt down, her skirts brushing against the mud dripping on the ground from the both of them. She reached towards the boy and prodded the trap carefully, examining it. The boy flinched at her and whimpered softly.

“Another silver one,” she mumbled and then spoke up, “Yes, I must see to this wound immediately. Follow me,” she said, standing up, “Fritz,” she turned to the receptionist, “Can you fetch the tool box from the supply room? I’ll be up in room three.”

“Oy! I’m next!” the troll shouted, standing up from his seat, “I’ve been waiting for over an hour already!”

Medina bowed to him, “And I do appreciate your patience Mr. Burr, but I must attend to this emergency first or this boy could die.”

“Bah,” Burr replied, “Don’t know why I ever bother showing up on time.”

The stranger followed her into the hallway and found it hard to keep up with this young woman who darted up the stairs so quickly as if every step were already familiar to her as her own two feet. Even though the halls were dimly lit, she knew her way well for a human and ducked into an intimate room with only enough space for a metal hospital gurney, a wooden chair beside it, and a sink embedded in a stand with cabinet space above and below. The stranger maneuvered into the small room and laid his son down onto the medical gurney, taking a seat beside him in a wooden chair.

Medina removed a flashlight from a pocket on her black doctor’s coat, which buttoned all the way up to her collar. Printed on a patch was the name HARPER stitched in bright white letters. She shined the flashlight into the boy’s eyes, which reflected back the light in a soft glow. She replaced it in her pocket and gently poked and prodded along his face at different points, pressing a spot under his chin, her fingers feeling around the back of his head. The boy winced. “Does it hurt here?” She asked.

“Can’t you see his foot?!” The stranger yelled. 

“Please refrain from shouting in my clinic,” she replied calmly as she continued her examination. “I’m checking him for additional injuries. He appears to be suffering not only from exposure but a mild concussion as well. He also has a bruise forming at the base of his skull – I’m assuming from tripping into the trap on an incline and losing his balance in the mud, falling onto his back. Thankfully something cushioned his fall – probably bluefir needles this time of year. Is that how you found him, on his back under a tree?”

The man stared at her. How did she know? Perhaps this woman was a witch after all?

“What’s your name?” she asked the boy.

“My son does not speak,” the man replied quickly.

He sniffled and looked to his father, holding onto the man’s arm. He was still shivering slightly. She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a blanket, offering it to the stranger who wrapped it around him, save for his injured leg.

“His name is Caleb,” Fritz replied.

They turned to see him standing in the doorway, holding the tool box. “You haven’t changed much, Father.”

Medina’s eyes widened.

“You are not my son,” the stranger replied, a growl rising in his voice.

“Fritz, if you cannot be civil with the client, please leave.” Medina scolded, glaring at him.

Fritz’s hands shook as he stared at her. Her glare did not let up as they stared at each other intensely. Finally he snuffed, dropping the tool box loudly onto the table. He disappeared back into the hallway. They could hear his boots echo down the stairs.

“You must be Fenris, I presume,” Medina said, “King of the House of Coins.”

“Silence!” His eyes widened as he grabbed her wrist. She winced as he clamped down harder, growling. She struggled and looked up as the hood on his cloak fell back, revealing more of his features. Most noticeable was his tanned complexion and the curly black hair that covered nearly all of his face, his mouth and chin lost in a sea of thick beard. A face that was remarkably like Fritz’s with the exception that he was clean-shaven and kept his hair cut short. Through his snarl she saw fangs that could bite and rip flesh. His eyes showed a fierceness that all his race carried, his pupils large and deep like the mouth of a cave. She could feel him searching her for any weakness.

“You tell anyone of my visit this night and I shall—”

“Sir,” she replied loudly, “All my patients’ identities and their subsequent illnesses are kept strictly confidential.” She gently placed her hand on top of the one nearly crushing her wrist. “Now kindly release me so I may release your son from this abomination.”

He hesitated, looking again to his son’s face. The boy looked frightened.

“If you hurt him…”

“The only way he will get hurt is if that wound is left to fester. I must extract the silver and cleanse the wound or he may lose his foot altogether… or worse. He may have were-blood, but this is no normal injury. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, it’s not healing.”

Fenris released her, looking down for a moment.

“If you like,” she offered, “you may assist me with the procedure.”

Fenris considered her for a moment before replying, “What must I do?”

“Once I have it pried open, you must extract his foot from the silver teeth. It will be painful for him but you must remove it quickly while I have it open. Do you understand?”

Fenris nodded.

The little boy began to cry again. Medina bent down to him and took his hand.

“Hello Caleb, My name is Medina,” she said softly to the boy, and he watched her carefully, sniffling. “Your father and I want to remove this nasty trap off your foot. It’s going to hurt, but I promise you when I’m done treating it you’ll feel much better. May I do that?”

The boy nodded, more tears rolling down his already reddened cheeks.

“Just lie back and relax, there you go,” she said. She unsnapped the hinges on the tool box and dug around for her crowbar. She pulled it out and angled it into the trap. With enough leverage it wouldn’t be a problem. She just hoped Fenris was quick enough or the boy would suffer greatly if it should close on him again.

A few moments later the boy’s screaming howl could be heard all the way down in the waiting room and even out in the street if there was anyone there to hear it. Everyone who did hear it felt a shiver down their spine and shifted uncomfortably.

Every stabbing pain the boy felt reflected in his father’s eyes. He watched the young woman set to work, amazed at her knowledge of were-folk physique and her ingenuity as she managed to extract the silver and seal the wound, finishing it off by rubbing a salve over it and wrapping his foot in bandages. When she finished the boy had grown so tired from the stress that he passed out completely, breathing quietly as he slept.

“I need to speak with you,” he said, indicating the door.

She nodded and took him outside the room, shutting the door.

“Tell me,” he said, “Will he live?”

“Yes,” she said, “But he has a long way to go. I would like to keep him here a few days for observation until he recuperates enough to stand again.”

“What!” Fenris snapped at her, Medina stumbling back just out of his reach. “I won’t let you experiment on him!”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort! Listen to me, he’s in shock. He needs to be kept in a quiet, sterile environment and rest. He’ll also need a fresh change of bandages every couple hours and he’ll need to drink a special medicine to counteract the silver poisoning his blood.”

“I can do that for him!”

“I’m sorry, but you cannot. The medicine must be fixed fresh and contains ingredients that are very potent. A little too much of one or the other could do more harm than good.”

“You removed the trap. I’m taking him home,” he started to open the door but she put her small hand on top of his.

“Please, you can’t move him in this state! Do you want him to lose his foot?”

Fenris growled but this time not at her. He leaned his face on the door, breathing heavily, trying to consider all his options.

“If he is to stay, than I must stay as well.”

“Oh, so you have no obligations to your House then? Considering you came here alone, I’m assuming no one knows where you are.”

“You speak the truth. They await my return.”

“Why don’t you trust me with your son?”

“Why should I? You’re human!  How do I know you won’t treat him like all our kind is treated?”

“I should think my efforts tonight have proved my loyalty. Your kind and mine don’t have to be enemies. I believe we can be friends.”

“Then you are foolish and naïve.” He jerked his hand, trying to remove hers. Medina glared at him, grabbing his wrist with both arms. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Perhaps I trust you to some extent. Tell me though, how can you, a mere woman, protect my son from others who are not as… courteous as you? I have many enemies, many that are far from human. They might visit here, feigning illness just to get at him.”

“No one will know he is here. I will house him in my guest bedroom far away from the other patients.”

“And what if that information should come to light? What if you are attacked suddenly?” He snatched her wrists, shoving her up against the wall, baring his teeth close to her neck. He was shocked that she had not soiled herself and still kept that glare on her face. But no matter her spirit, she was just as frail as any other of her species. “How will you protect him then?”

“Fritz will protect him, just as he protects me.”

“Ha! Then you are twice as foolish. He will betray you just as he betrayed his own pack.”

An animal-like growled echoed in the hallway. They turned to see a pair of blazing orange eyes. Only until the figure came closer into the light did Medina recognize him as Fritz. He was like another being now, his proper posture gone, leaning down low as if he were about to spring, baring fangs that reminded her he was far from human himself.

“Release her. Now.”

“You want a fight, boy?” He threw her away and she fell down.

Fritz rushed towards her, but paused for a moment to glare at Fenris. Suddenly, the two of them snarled and snapping at each other.

“I won’t fight you in a place of healing! But neither will I allow you to hurt her!”

“Fritz! I’m fine! Please stop!” She scrambled to her feet, heading towards them.

“Are you a dog now? You take a human’s command?” Fenris grinned.

“What did you say!?” He snarled.

“I said, where is your leash, boy?” He laughed.

Fritz nearly jumped at him but for Medina’s pulling him back.

“Please,” she leaned towards him, whispering into his ear, “Don’t.”

He took long, deep breaths, still staring at his father, his breath hissing out of him. Fenris just folded his arms, smug in his apparent victory as he saw it. The boy was just the same as always, prone to emotions. In that way, he was every bit like his mother, Fenris mused.

“My loyalty lies with Dr. Harper now,” he said at last, “She took me in when my pack abandoned me. I would give my life for hers.”

“Fritz…” Medina whispered as she felt his hand close around hers, removing it from his shoulder gently.

“Gentlemen,” she said, slipping between them, “I urge you please. Caleb needs peace and quiet. It will only upset him if he hears fighting. King Fenris, I swear to you as his doctor that we will protect him with our lives. If any harm comes to him… then… Then you may harm me as you see fit in compensation for any injury he receives while in my care.”

“What!?” Fritz raged, “No! Medina, you–“

She shushed him whispering, “Please, it’s for the good of Caleb.” Fritz backed off, but fidgeted, keeping his head low, still breathing too hard. It would be a while before he would calm down to his usual self.

Then she turned back to Fenris, “Do we have a deal, your majesty?” She extended a hand to him.

Fenris stood there, considering everything. He had to admit there was something about her he liked. A fierce loyalty he did not know a mere human could possess. Even though she was physically weak, she showed no fear in his presence and even offered him her own life should she fail. There was something to admire there indeed, even if she was a mere woman.

He extended his own hand and she took it, squeezing his hand as tightly as her feeble hand could. He smiled, surprised at her audacity, trying to show him a bit of strength. This small gesture, if nothing else, showed him he had made the right decision.

“I must wake him and explain to him the situation. Then I shall take my leave.”

“Of course,” she released his hand and opened the door for him, “Do give him my apologies for the noise.”

“Hmm,” Fenris said, shutting the door behind him.

Before she could compose herself, Fritz had her by the arm, guiding her into the room across the hall, shutting it behind them silently.

“Why did you do that?!” he yelled.

“The walls are thin here. Please, keep your voice down.”

He took another deep breath, huffing out through his nose. “Forgive me.”

“Fritz, I had to. It was the only way to convince him. At any rate, no harm will come to the boy here, so he won’t harm me.”

“He will claim abuse when he returns just to hurt you.”

“He will do no such thing!”

“You don’t know him like I do,” he glared.

“Fritz, please,” she took his hand, squeezing it, “This is my chance to foster a good relationship with the Pack. He is the first werefolk to come here. And you know as well as I do they’re in need of a doctor – especially with all of these traps popping up everywhere. Who knows how many of your kind have had to suffer a slow painful death, trapped on their own mountainside so close to rescue? Are you so hardened against them that you wish that death upon them?”

Fritz stared down at his feet. He shook his head at last.

“Perhaps through this kindness he will want to welcome you back.”

He pulled back his hand. “Maybe I don’t want to go back. Have you ever considered that?”

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Imogene leaned through the door, part of her arm leaning on the door frame as if it were wide open, “But the chickens downstairs are getting restless. They don’t even like my jokes!”

Medina groaned. “You told them puns, didn’t you?”

Imogene giggled and nodded, covering her mouth with her hands. She floated into the room, doing a somersault mid-air, her giggles overtaking her.

“We’ll discuss this later,” she said softly to Fritz. “Imogene?”

“Yeah, Sis?”

“Tell them I’ll be down in a moment.”

“Sure thing!” She dove straight through the floor like a high diver, immediately followed by chorus of frightened yelps. One of these days she was going to get her sister to stop doing that and use the doors like everyone else.

Medina was shocked to find King Fenris was waiting for them as they returned to the waiting room.

“Is there something more you need, sir?” She asked quietly.

He hesitated, but finally asked, “How much do I owe you?”

Fritz slipped back behind the counter, sitting down in his chair, setting immediately to work. “Nothing, sir. All Dr. Harper’s services are given free of charge.” He lowered his voice, “Though I know that’s a difficult concept for someone like you to understand.”

This time, they stared at each other in silence. Neither of them snarled this time, not even Fenris, but their eyes reflected their true nature, pupils narrowing to slits.

Imogene’s wispy head popped up between them through the desk, and they both leaped back in fright. “He’s right you know, you’re free to go now! Have a nice day!”  Her hand extended up through the desk and waved at him, “Thanks for stopping by! Oh, and tell your friends!”

Fenris recovered from his surprise rather quickly and turned away with a grunt, yanking his hood down over his face. He did not look back as he swiftly crossed the room. He wrenched open the door and let it bang shut behind him, the bells rattling, as he ran headlong back into the fading night. The illusion of his human clothing hissed away into clouds of steam as he ran, stretching down to all fours. His foot prints shifted to paw prints in the wet ground, and he was more than happy to trade his clammy skin for thick fur. He did not look back as he leapt atop the gated wall in a single bound and disappeared into the night.