Sam's phone buzzed under her back, and she started, resting the journal on the coffee table. She wouldn't normally answer so late, but it was Ada, and curiosity was pestering her. Sam greeted her cheerfully, but the energy was not met. Her breath came in agitated, shallow pulses, and she spoke too softly for Sam to understand. Her audible distress made Sam's spine rigid.

"Deep breath, Ada. I need you to talk a little louder for me, 'kay? What's wrong?"

She did as Sam said. "My brother just pulled up outside!" Sam didn't know what to say right away, but she didn't wait for an answer. "I don't have time to explain it all right now, but there's bad blood between us. The last time I saw him he was getting stuffed into a cop car." There was rustling from her end, the whir of a zipper. "He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't know where I live!"

Sam's heart was hammering against her rib cage. "Does he know you're home?"

"No, I don't think so. He's still in his car; he's just sitting there. I don't think he can see my desk lamp from out there."

Sam sighed in relief and headed for the kitchen to grab her keys. "Can you get out of there without being seen?"

She paused for a moment. "I should be able to get from the stairwell to the back exit without being seen through the front."

"Okay, meet me in the Tim's parking lot, I'll be there in ten. Call me if anything happens. Oh, and bring your cat."

They signed off as Sam dashed out the door in her sweats. She drove too fast through the thin slush on the roads, but the trip was short and she knew what her car could handle. She parked in the last spot, right by the drive-through entrance and waited in the stark silence after cutting the engine. From here she had a view down the street Ada should be taking. Her phone was silent in her hand, which she took to be a good thing. If she let her mind wander to the possibilities, a horrible tugging began in her sternum. Sam rubbed it absently, watching.

A figure appeared in a streetlight in the distance, hooded and unsteady with a heavy bag on one shoulder. Their hands were stuffed in their pockets. As they approached, Ada's features became clearer. Sam got out and waited beside her car as Ada waited to cross the street. She scaled the snow-covered median beside the parking lot. Sam reached for her then and helped her down. One hand remained pocketed.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, concern dripping from her voice.

"I'm fine."

Ada didn't stop, arm snaking around Sam's waist and pulling her close. She didn't resist, and as she returned the embrace, it became apparent why her hand was still in her coat. It was supporting a fluffy orange cat who popped its head out of the top of the zipper and turned brilliant chartreuse eyes on Sam. He gave a soft, musical meow.

"This is Percy," Ada said, giving him an affectionate grin.

"He's handsome." He leaned into Sam's scratching.

"He's an idiot."

Laughing, Sam held the door before getting in herself. She cranked the heat; Ada's fingers and nose were red. Sam was a little toasty herself, but she could handle it until they got home. The tension Ada had brought with her into the car dissipated as blocks rolled by. She scratched Percy's head in slow, rhythmic circles as she stared far out the window.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now. He's such an ass-hole."

"No problem." Sam nodded to herself. "I don't really know what that's like, but I'm sorry."

"Thanks ..." Ada let the conversation drop there, and Sam left it at that.

She stopped at a market near her house and ran in to grab cat things and milk while Ada stayed in the car. She worried about Ada; not being alone, but in general. She didn't want to meet anyone who could rattle Ada so badly. Though it was rather vain, Sam hoped she could comfort her even just a little.

When she got back in the car, there was a station playing the news out of Montréal. She turned it down as Sam settled in and pulled out.

"How are your arms?"

Sam tried not to wince. "Good, doing a lot better."

"Isn't it a bit soon?"

Sweat beaded along the back of her neck as she said, "Maybe a bit."

There was a long, tense pause. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"'kay."

"'kay."

It was nearly midnight when they got in and Sam was ready to fall into bed. While Ada took a minute to get Percy set up in the kitchen, Sam made her way upstairs to get ready for bed. She picked out some of her nicer pyjamas—ones with less holes. She spent more time than usual in front of the washroom mirror trying to gather her wits.

Above all, she longed to tell Ada the truth about her arms and what had happened only the night before. Maybe telling someone would help make it feel real, because it just wasn't clicking. She knew, objectively, that she had turned into a wolf in her neighbour's front yard and that her arms had done weeks of healing in only one night, but thinking about it made her skin crawl. She didn't know why, but she felt that Ada would know how to react to her ... situation, and for some reason, it was both a comforting and compelling consideration.

Sam paused and gathered her hair over one shoulder. Her fingers still shook and resisted somewhat her attempts to separate sections. She powered through the discomfort and braided her hip-length hair as she used to do every night. If she didn't, it choked her in her sleep. The past couple of weeks she had had to settle for a ponytail, but it wasn't the same. When she finished, she held her hands out and watched the slight tremble with pride. There was hope for her hands yet.

Once more she took in her reflection, and this time felt a sort of settling in her mind. She really did want to tell Ada.

Sam descended slowly, mulling over how she might go about telling Ada something so bizarre. At the bottom she was distracted by a small, warm body rubbing against her leg. Percy gazed at her with expressive eyes, somewhat curious, a little confused.

"He'll get fur all over everything, sorry," said Ada as she emerged from the kitchen.

Sam shrugged lightly. "That's all right, he's too cute to be angry with. Can I get you anything?"

She declined with a gentle shake of her head. "I'm going to take a bath, if that's all right. I stink from work still."

"Yeah, of course." Sam hesitated, the words on the tip of her tongue which would change their relationship forever. Ada waited, a curious glint in her eye. Sam cleared her throat and said, "There are bath bombs under the sink, in the basket."

She could have kicked herself, but the opportunity was gone. She masked it well, but Sam caught an impression of disappointment. Maybe she was just projecting.

"Great, thanks." Her gaze danced away for a moment. "For all of this, you really saved my ass tonight."

"Don't mention it," she said, smiling. "Is he dangerous?"

Ada shrugged and reflected for a moment. "It's hard to say. He's never needed to be, at least from what I've seen, but I think he could be, and I don't want to find out."

Ada picked up her bag and headed upstairs. Sam's heart was heavy, but she had made her bed. There would be time tomorrow to tell her the truth. Tonight, they were both tired and Sam just wanted to get some rest. She locked up as the rush of water echoed downstairs. She flicked off the lamp in the living room and scooped up the journal as she passed, in case she felt like reading before bed.

Her bedroom was dim and cozy, back-lit a faint orange from the street light below. Her toes sunk into the plush grey carpet with every step. She placed the journal on the nightstand, and as she plugged in her phone charger, she took a moment to trail her finger down the flawless edges of the screen.

"'I've never seen something so sleek before,'" she quoted under her breath. What sort of life was that, sequestered by your family? Who punishes their children like that?

Sam scoffed softly and got under the covers, gazing at the blinds reflected across the dark screen. If that journal did belong to the strange guy, she felt sort of sorry for him. Not too sorry, he did rob her, after all. Sam wanted to read more, but she was tired. She barely finished the thought before falling asleep.

Some time later she stirred as the bed shifted. The clock on the nightstand read 2:45. She pulled the blankets up over her exposed shoulder, and had just settled in again when Ada rolled over behind her. There was a gentle sigh, and then Ada's hand brushed over her hip and her arm came to rest around her waist. Sam held her breath, but Ada's never changed. She sighed against Sam's neck.

Sam's heard gave a firm buh-dum for a very different reason this time. Her cheeks pricked gently and she fought a grin. She settled in, warm and content, nestled in the contours of her body. Every breath rustled the short hairs at Sam's nape; she quickly matched Ada's rhythm and fell into a peaceful slumber.

The colours behind her eyes took shape, and she was running at full speed. The lush forest whipped past on all sides. Her muscles burned. Ahead, a deer's thick flank worked to keep the gap between it and her jaws. She salivated thinking how good it would taste. The doe couldn't outrun her forever.

All at once, they burst from the verdant embrace into a long, sloping pasture. So shocked was she that the gap widened as she stared stupidly at the dense trees bordering thick, swaying grass. When she noticed, she dug in her claws and dashed after her prey. She had the advantage here, with nothing to obstruct her momentum. Her vision tunnelled on the spindly hind legs, and when she was close enough, she struck.

There she feasted and basked in the sunlight. The breeze was sweet and gentle. She could have spent an eternity there, but something called to her.

She followed that feeling down the plain and found herself on a sandy beach. Thin fog licked in from all sides, the water lapping softly at the banks. Her toes sunk into the cool sand and found little purchase. The beach seemed to stretch on forever. As long as it was peaceful like this, she would continue exploring its perimeter. Somewhere ahead, she couldn't tell how far, a slender figure took shape through a thick coil of mist. She looked at Sam, and Sam at her as she approached the figure. As though from a great distance, she caught the whisper of her own name on the breeze. It grew louder the next time, much clearer.

The fog finally spread away from the figure, and she recognized the pastels in her hair against the dreary backdrop. She looked to Sam, eyes inscrutable, and called her name over and over again.

Sam woke with a start and tossed back the covers. Ada took a step back but continued to peer at her. She rubbed sleep from her crusty eyes and squinted back. Ada was fully dressed and standing in the middle of the room. It was just before dawn, but Sam could see clearly. Like, as a bell. Groggily, she chalked that up to wolfy business.

"What's up?" she asked, stuffing her feet into her slippers.

Ada bit her lip and said, "I need to go away for a few days."

Sam wasn't quite awake still and squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. "Now?"

"Yeah," she murmured and averted her gaze. "I have to go home, just for the weekend. There are some people I need to see."

"But you just left home."

"No, I mean to where my family lives, in Toronto." She approached slowly, hands in the pouch of her hoodie.

Sam had to tip back her head to see her properly. Ada's sandy lashes glowed, catching light from the street as it filtered through the blinds. She gave Sam a rare, wide smile she would never forget. Then, her arms encircled Sam's shoulders and she held her close. Her chin came to rest on Sam's crown and the rapid beating of her heart tickled Sam's cheek. Ada's rigid spine softened when Sam returned the embrace. Sam was euphoric, entranced by the rhythm of her breathing and her dancing heart. Her collar smelled faintly of French vanilla.

Two short honks cut through the peace, and Ada slowly released her. "That's my cab, I've got to go. I'll call you as soon as I get in."

"Safe travels." She smiled, heavy arms wishing to stop her.

Ada stopped in the doorway and glanced back with something like longing in her smile. Sam went to the window as the front door closed and she watched her get in the taxi with her gym bag. She met Sam's gaze and held it until they rounded the corner.

Sam flopped back into bed feeling considerably worse than she had waking up in the hospital. If she shut her eyes, she could still feel her warm embrace. What she wouldn't give to turn back the clock and convince her to stay, but she couldn't think of anything good enough to say. She was still too tired.

Something landed at her feet and she jerked upright. Percy's little fluffy face emerged from the folds of the blanket. She sighed and relaxed. He made big steps to cross to the empty space beside her and curled up against the pillow. He was snoring before she had finished tucking in once more.

Turns out, Percy was great to nap with. As soon as she settled in, he curled up on her chest, slapped her with his bushy tail, and proceeded to purr incessantly. At first it was unsettling, but she grew to enjoy the soft vibration. He followed her around the house while she got ready for work. They even ate breakfast together in the kitchen.

"Be good, you're in charge while I'm gone," she told him as she left. He meowed from his perch on the banister post.

Sam brought the journal to work in anticipation of a slow day. She was right to. Kathy left her with the inter-library loans to process, but other than that, her day was pretty free. The book lay open flat on the desk without any support, and when she wasn't helping people find or check out books, she perused its pages in the hope of finding out who its owner was, and why, or if, he was stalking her. She considered skipping to more recent entries, but his elegant handwriting and frankly bizarre entries were too compelling.

Whoever he was, his family was a mess from his perspective. She was able to glean that while the farm had plumbing and electricity, very little of it came from this century. His relatives came in from all over the country on a regular basis. He often wrote of his favourite books, and the dreams he had stargazing by the flower garden in the summer. He spent a lot of time there.

A few times she wondered if this wasn't a journal, but a handwritten story. The whole thing sounded too storybook to be real, yet ... she often found herself reading in his voice—the strange man with his casual, polite tone. If this was fiction, he was masterful. Still, she had to at least consider the possibility the narrator was a construct.

She wished she knew his name, but so far he hadn't written it anywhere, not even inside the cover. She checked once more for good measure, and then shut the journal. Her phone beeped, telling her it was closing time, so she stowed it in her bag and then took a moment to stretch.

She locked the outer doors and circled the stacks, collecting two people and ushering them to be checked out. If she was fast, she might get home in time for a season premier she had been looking forward to. The first patron, a stout woman in her thirties, chatted about her vacation plans to her as she processed three books on Brazil's history and a late fee. She nodded and smiled, but kept eyeing the clock over her shoulder.

"Enjoy your vacation, Jennifer." She offered her warmest smile and passed her the books and library card.

"Thank you! I'll make sure to bring these back before we leave."

Sam collected herself and took the book from the man waiting. "Sorry for the wait. Do you have your library card?"

"No," he answered with a slight smile.

"That's all right, I can find it in the computer, what phone number did you give when you signed up?" Sam tried to keep her voice cheery, but it sounded somewhat strained to her. Running a search was a good way to ruin her timeline.

"I'm sorry, I don't have one." He shifted his weight, smile never faltering. "I just wanted to talk with you about something, it won't take long. I know you probably just want to get home right now."

Her spine crawled. "I'm afraid I don't' have time to get you signed up just now, but if you come back tomorrow I can get you registered and you can check out ..."

The book in her hand was no larger than a DVD case, and twice as thick, with a textured burgundy hardcover and gold-stamped title The Wolfman Myth. Her unfinished sentence hung in the air. She placed the book on the lower counter and glanced up to his inscrutable taupe eyes.

"It's quite important we talk." His tone was soft, but there was no room for wiggling. "I think we both have a few questions."

Sam matched his gaze and remained silent, mostly because she was at a loss for a response. Already he was grand, but when he straightened from leaning on the counter, he towered above her seat. Still, she didn't look away. She refused to be intimidated in her library anymore.

"I won't force you to talk to me. I'm going to the diner for dinner and if you decide you want some answers, well, you know where to find me."

With that, he ducked outside, black curls dancing in the wind. He glanced back once before striding away. The library was eerily quiet now. She rushed to clean and lock up fully so she could get safely home.

She was shivering before she even went outside. The cold shocked her alert. Sam paused on the top step, gazing toward her car, and then to the glowing shops down the street. Each step she wavered. By the bottom, she had decided.