Chapter Text
You step out into the evening, letting the glass door click shut behind you. A quick rummage in your pocket and you come up with your keys. You inhale deeply; the mountain air is crisp and fresh in your lungs. You check your watch. It’s around 9pm, but the late August sun is already descending behind the mountains. It’s a beautiful evening and the sky is clear, save for a few lonely wisps of cloud that hang around the peaks.
Behind you, the yellow, incandescent light in the vestibule hums and a few bugs bounce off of it. The sun has been setting earlier and earlier as summer has headed for its conclusion. The trees on the lawn around you have already started to turn various colours. Soon Fall will sweep up the valley, hunting season will be on, and you’ll have a lot more work on your plate.
However, that’s still a while off, and right now your mornings are free and your evenings are spent at work in the sample lab. On nights like this you don’t lament being the last out of the building. You’ve always enjoyed the evenings, and here the nights are especially wonderful. There’s not much night life to speak of in Timber Ridge, and the few lights on after dark are comforting instead of blinding. Once the sun goes down, the residents and what few tourists are about disappear. Without people around it feels like the world shrinks to just you and your thoughts.
You break your reverie and finger the keys in your hand before locking the door behind you. You turn and stride away down the concrete path; giving your keyring a spin as you go. You thump your hand on your car as you pass through the parking lot; It’s not time to head home yet.
You walk down the block, enjoying the peaceful night air. The businesses you pass are all dark inside, and only the ornamental street lamps cast any light. In another city a lonely block like this might leave you fearing for your wallet; here it’s friendly. The most dangerous subject you’re likely to run into are the deer that creep out of the woods.
Ahead, one of the store fronts is lit up. “Charlie’s Asian Diner” is written across the glass in chipped orange paint. Your stomach makes a plaintive gurgle, urging you to hurry up. A short, balding man stands outside, leaning against the doorway and smoking a cigarette. You give him a wave as you get closer and he wipes his hands on his dirty apron before extending you a friendly hand.
“Hi Tom, busy tonight?” you ask, reaching out and shaking his hand.
“Oh, not bad, not bad,” he replies, between drags on his cigarette. “Come in and I get you a table”.
Tom reaches over and puts out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray sitting on the windowsill. He wipes his hands on his apron again and opens the door, ushering you inside.
A similarly short woman calls to you from behind the counter. “Hi Anon! How are you doing?”
“Hey Sou,” you reply, “I’m doing fine. Have Ben and Harper come in tonight?”
“No, don’t think so. Haven’t seen them for a couple days. Tom?”
Tom shakes his head. “They not come in since last Friday.”
“Oh well,” you shrug.
There are no other customers at the moment, so you have your pick of the seating. You choose a booth beside the window and Tom sets your table. You scan the menu, but your mind is already made up. You ask for “the usual”, handing the menu back. Tom takes it and disappears into the kitchen.
You stretch out on the seat, enjoying the empty restaurant. You didn’t think much of the place when you found it. The walls are covered in a yellowing floral print, and the old linoleum is peeling at the edges. There are crates of sauces and ingredients piled against the opposite wall, and the stack of menus at the front are definitely laminated, home-office work. Nevertheless, Tom ‘s devil-may-care attitude is charming, and the food is good. Most important to you, Tom keeps the place open well into the early morning, and once he got to know you, he let you lounge inside without ordering – though you do anyways.
You’ve come to enjoy watching the slow procession of customers who cycle in and out. There are always interesting faces that walk through the door: cops, firefighters and other folks who work the off-hours. Sometimes you sit and watch, other times you’ll join their tables and listen to tales from the other half.
You had hoped Ben and Harper would be in tonight – the two paramedics had also turned out to be regulars, and once you broke the ice, the three of you became fast friends. The duo always had some new, bizarre and hilarious story to share. Harper especially, could get very animated in her retellings. She had an infectious energy, and a mastery of impressions, often bringing you to tears with laughter.
Most evenings, they’d be waiting for you with a spare seat. Missing them for a week straight is a strange occurrence. A few of Harper’s more dangerous stories flit through your mind, and you briefly wonder if something bad has happened. Maybe you’ll call the ambulance station when you get home.
Tom interrupts your thoughts, presenting you with a steaming bowl of mushrooms, carrots, lettuce and shrimp.
“Oh, thanks Tom, this is great.”
You place the napkin you had been playing with to the side, and Tom slides your meal toward you.
“Only the best for my best customer,” he says, placing down a cup of water and a soda. “You need anything else?”
“No thanks, Tom. This is good for now.”
Your stomach rumbles in agreement, and Tom leaves to continue the smoke break you interrupted. The soup is almost too hot, so you give it a cautionary blow before digging in.
A few people come in while you eat, but no one you recognize. You’re almost done when you hear Tom talking to someone at the front door. You try to get a look, but it’s gotten dark enough that the glare on the windows blocks your view. The door opens and the voices grow louder. Your stomach does a flip when you recognize Harper’s voice alongside Tom’s.
While Harper chats with Tom, you notice she’s not in her usual uniform. Instead, she’s sporting a V-neck t-shirt that shows off her arms, and a form fitting pair of jeans that hug her shapely legs. This is probably the most casual you’ve ever seen her, and the sight sends a fuzzy feeling climbing up your chest.
Standing next to Tom she cuts an athletic figure. She’s tall too, almost as tall as you, with dirty blonde hair that’s drawn back in a ponytail. You catch a flash of her bright green eyes as she jokes with Tom and you suddenly become very self-conscious of your leering.
Tom says something to Harper, laughs then walks back into the Kitchen. You wipe your mouth, swallow your embarrassment and wave. “Over here Harper!”
“Hey Anon, long time no see!”
As Harper winds her way past the tables to your booth, you notice that she’s picked up a slight limp. There are long scratches across her face, and you now notice a bandage wrapped around her right forearm.
“What happened to you? Tom and Sou say they haven’t seen you or Ben since Friday.”
Harper takes a moment to gingerly slide into the booth before beginning. “Picture this: It’s 2am on Tuesday morning and we get a call. There’s a collapsed guy in an apartment. Apparently, the neighbors across the street saw this guy fall over in his living room.”
“Thank God for peeping toms,” you joke. Harper shoots you some side-eye before grinning and continuing.
“Well anyways they watch this guy lay there for like… twenty minutes before they give us the call. We go up with the crash cart and the stretcher. We tried calling the building super, but he was out and the cops were late, so Ben has to crack the door. I went in first while he got the stretcher.”
“So what? Guy’s a crackhead or something, decides to fight you?”
“No, no,” Harper dismisses the idea with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know what the neighbours saw, but there’s no guy - only the fucking wolfdog that he’s been keeping in his tiny ass apartment!”
“Really? So this guy is one of those exotic pet people?”
“Exactly!” Harper points a finger at you. “Or at least that’s what I think. By the way, you haven’t touched this have you?” She grabs your soda, cracks it, and takes a swig without waiting for an answer.
“So yeah, this thing was stuck in an apartment about as big as a camper van for who knows how long. When we opened the door, it went apeshit. Thing was fucking huge. I was barely in the front door when it grabbed me by the arm. It knocked me over and scratched the shit out of me trying to get out the door.” Harper shows off her arms and her neck. “Got me really good here,” she says, pulling back her sleeve and twisting to show you several long, red, trails from her shoulder to her elbow.
“What happened to Ben?”
“Ben wasn’t looking and it pushed him over the railing as it ran off. He’s off with a broken leg, which is pretty lucky considering we were two floors up. I actually meant to come by earlier and tell you, but I had to start taking rabies shots, and those leave you feeling like crap.”
“No shit, that sucks! But you’re good otherwise? Did you find the guy?”
“Oh yeah, check it out.” Harper ignores the last question and unwraps her arm, leaning over the table to show you the bite. It doesn’t actually look bad, but there’s some swelling and she has a few inches of stitches to show. “I think it just wanted out. You have to be a special kind of stupid to think you can keep an animal like that in an apartment.”
You reach out a hand and turn her arm around to see.
“Ouch! Hey careful!”
Startled, you let go, but Harper only laughs at your reaction. “I’m just fucking with you, bud.” A cheeky smile plays across her face and she slaps you on the arm.
“Ass,” you say with a snort.
“What was that? You’ll have to speak up.” Harper cups her hand to her ear, trying to egg you on.
“You’re. An. Ass.” You annunciate the words clearly, smiling as Harper feigns offense.
“Yeah well, they gave me two weeks of PTO, so I might be an ass, but I’m the one with the free vacation.” She tosses her ponytail with one hand and gives you a look of smug satisfaction.
“Lucky bugger, there’s no way I could ever get approved for time off over summer. What are you going to do?”
Harper’s smile disappears. “Well, I’ve got to stay close enough to drive to the hospital for the shots, otherwise I think I’d disappear for a week and do some hiking.” She crosses her arms and leans back, tilting her head to study the ceiling tiles. “It kind of stinks, but I have to stay in town. I was really looking forward to crashing for a few days but the painkillers I got fuck with my sleep.” She idly rubs the bite on her forearm before returning her gaze to you. “Actually, that’s why I came down tonight. I’m still running on work time, and I figured since Ben is out of commission, I’d come get you and we’d surprise him with a movie. You know, get the gang together for some cheering up?”
“For sure,” you reply. “A broken leg must be torture for him. Did you already get something to watch?”
“Yep, sure did. Hit the video place on the way over.” Harper fishes out a couple VHS cases from her bag. “I don’t really know what he’s into, so I thought we’d give him a choice,” she says, holding up copies of Fugitive and Heat.
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to watch Heat,” you say. “Just let me settle up and we can go”.
You hand Sou a few bills and join Harper at the door. Outside, you say goodnight to Tom who’s on yet another smoke break.
You’ve never been to Ben’s place before. He lives in the city or at least close by, but the way your schedules work out, you miss each other for everything besides dinner. “Where to?” You ask. “Are we walking or driving?”
“We’ll walk, it’s not far. He’s just a few blocks over. He has a place on the lake.”
It’s almost totally dark now, and only a pale outline along the cliffs remains of a fine summer day. The valley floor is dark, and above the first stars have revealed themselves in the night sky. It’s a wonderful change from the city where the brightest thing you were liable to see were the passing lights of airliners. Every time you step outdoors, you feel a small sense of vindication for choosing to leave your old life behind.
The night air is brisk and Harper’s limp doesn’t seem to bother her anymore. She leads you quickly from the light of one street lamp to another. Your pace is quick but not unpleasant; soon you’re off Main Street and walking down towards the lake. The houses you pass are quaint affairs, part of the historic town site. A few have lights in the windows, but there are no other people on the street.
The two of you eventually reach the end of the sidewalk where your street is intersected by the gravel road that rings the lake. You take a moment to look around. Across the road is a dark wall of fir trees, beyond them the gentle lapping of the lake rises up. The gravel road leads East and West, cutting a lazy loop around the shore, leading to many private homes and cabins. There are no street lights on the ring road, and the darkness is only interrupted by the occasional driveway light.
“Which way?” You ask.
“This way,” Harper says, pointing West down the gravel road. “Ben’s house is on the lake, just up there.” Before you start walking, Harper wraps her arm around yours, giving you a start. When your eyes meet, hers are full of mischief. “Gotta keep a hold of each other in case some wild animal tries to carry you off into the bush,” she says, her teeth glinting in the evening light.
“Ha ha, yeah,” is all you manage to say back.
If Harper is put off by your response, she doesn’t indicate it. In fact, she doesn’t pay you any mind, only holding your arm tight and humming while the two of you walk along the dark road. As the gravel crunches beneath your shoes, your mind turns over and over trying to figure out why she’s holding on to you. It’s true you’ve seen a lot of each other over the months, but it’s only ever been at Charlie’s. True, she’s always been friendly, and you do think of her as a friend, but you always just assumed that’s where it ended. Maybe you misread some cue of hers and she wanted something more? Or maybe this is just the wind up to a joke she’s playing on you. Sometimes you’re not sure when she’s being sincere or not.
“Alright we’re here. I hope he’s up.”
Your thoughts fizzle out. “Wait, you don’t know?”
“Don’t worry, he’s on work time just like me. If he’s not up then we’ll just throw stones at his windows.”
Harper turns and leads you down the gravel driveway. You want to say you’re sure Ben will appreciate a few rocks through his window while he hobbles around on crutches, but you hold your tongue. When you reach the stoop, Harper lets go of you to rap on the door. The touch of the night air makes you suddenly aware of how warm she is and how close she had been walking to you. Your stomach does another flip, and you run your tongue along your suddenly dry lips.
“Fuck it’s hot out,” Harper says, fanning herself with her hand. “Where the hell are you, Ben?” She raps on the door again. No answer is forthcoming, so you walk around the side of the house and peer in through a window. No lights are on inside.
“I don’t think he’s home,” you say, walking back around to the front.
“Well shoot. I was actually looking forward to watching Heat.” Harper sits down on the stoop and stretches her legs out. “Just give me a second before we go back. Sorry for wasting your time Anon.”
“No problem. Ben would appreciate it if he was here.” Suddenly you’re struck by a powerful desire for the evening to continue. A strange font of courage wells up in your chest, and you work your jaw back and forth for a moment before speaking. “If you want, we can go back to my place and watch the movie.”
Harper whips her head around and locks her green eyes on yours. You suddenly feel like you’ve made a horrible mistake. Harper’s eyes twinkle with mysterious intent. You must look like a fish caught on a hook. “My, my, Anon… are you asking me on a date?”
You swallow hard. Your previous courage is totally spent. Your cheeks burn crimson as you struggle to choke out an answer. “Yes… if you like…”
Harper stands up straight, hands on her hips. She cocks her head; her green eyes roam over your face as she considers you. You feel like an insect under a microscope and a cold sweat runs down your back, but she doesn’t refuse. Instead, she offers you a smile and her hand. “I’d like that very much, Anon.”
You didn’t realize you were holding your breath, but her answer drags you out of your stupor and you suck in the cool night air. You reach out and take her hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. If your stomach was doing flips before, it’s now completing a full Olympic routine. As you walk back down the driveway, a happy buzz fills you up, and you feel almost dizzy. Your eyes dart to the side to confirm that she’s really there. You fear that if you take a long enough look, she’ll think you’re rude for staring or maybe she’ll simply disappear.
“One caveat though,” she says, when you reach the road. “Let’s make it my place. Those shots are kicking my ass, and I want to grab some Tylenol.”
“Sure,” you say, “no problem.” Your stomach lands a triple axel and the buzz in your chest shoots down your arms.
Harper leans into you as you walk and the pair of you sway back and forth. You chance another look at her once you’re back under the street lights. You’re startled to find her looking back.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking over. Are you trying to figure out why I said yes?”
You take a moment to choke down your embarrassment. “I didn’t… I mean… no”, you stutter. Harper stops and leans back to look into your face. “Well, I… I didn’t think that you’d want to… uh…” Harper’s expression is unmoving. It feels like you’re digging your own grave. You take a deep breath and compose yourself. “I’ve wanted to ask you, for months actually, but it was never the right time. Ben is always with us at Charlie’s and we don’t really talk anywhere else.”
She regards you again, withholding her judgement to watch you squirm. “Anon. You WERE the BIGGEST coward I’ve ever known,” Her teasing voice returns, and she pulls you close to bump shoulders. “I say ‘were’ because you did ask. Eventually,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Let’s get a move on, I really do want to watch that movie!” She pulls you forward by the hand and immediately the tension in your body evaporates. “By the way, I’m not drunk if that’s what you thought, but those painkillers are pretty wild.” She flashes you a winning smile and swings your arm together with hers.
You walk back through the houses surrounding downtown, but before you reach Main Street Harper pulls you aside and leads you down a private laneway. You walk until you’re well out of the downtown area and the houses are spaced further apart. Each one is separated by tall trees that afford a maximum amount of privacy. Everyone here must feel like they have their own private forest, and you’re pretty sure there would be no way to see across each property.
You’ve passed a good number of houses when Harper stops and puts her hands on her knees.
“What’s wrong, are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah. I just need a moment.” You’re not quite sure what to do so you acquiesce and give Harper some space while she slowly breathes in and out. She stays like that for a few minutes before she stands back up. “I was afraid I was going to do something very unlady-like there.” Harper tries to joke, but you can see her brow is furrowed in concentration and beads of sweat run down her forehead.
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” you ask, again.
“Yep, I just needed some air,” she says, inhaling several times through her nose. “Doctor warned me the rabies shots could do this. I guess I’m just one of those unfortunate people who’re sensitive to it. I would have driven, but they make me dizzy too.”
You nod in agreement. “Do you want me to go get my car? I can run back and drive you the rest of the way.”
“No, no. my place is just up here.” Harper motions down the road. “I’ll be fine once I can sit down and have some water.”
Suddenly Harper spins around and doubles over. You hear a wet splatter as she empties her guts into a bush. You run over and put a hand on her back. She wobbles back and forth under your touch, and you realize that the back of her shirt is damp with sweat. You put a hand on her forehead but it’s hardly necessary; you can practically feel the heat radiating off of her.
“Okay, we need to get you home.” You put your arm around her waist and help her to get going again. With your support she manages to shakily walk the short distance to her place. When you arrive, she hands you a key and lets you open the door while she dry heaves over the porch railing. You push the door open and guide her inside.
You half walk, half carry Harper into the living room and lay her down on the sofa. You take a look around the room. The kitchen is on the right with a passthrough in the wall, and at the far end of the room is a floor to ceiling glass window with a door leading out onto the rear patio. At last, you spy a trash bin at the side of the room and move it to Harper’s side.
“Get me some Tylenol,” she groans. “It’s in the bathroom cabinet.”
You flick on the hall light and quickly find the bathroom. The cabinet has only a few essentials, so it’s easy to spot the bottle and shake out two pills. You grab the glass sitting on the sink and fill it with cold water.
When you walk back into the living room, Harper has kicked off her pants and curled herself into a ball. She lays with her arms around her gut and her knees pulled up to her chest. You kneel and offer her the pills. When you put the glass of water to her lips, she eagerly gulps it down.
You get up to fill the glass again, but Harper lets out another groan and flips over. Her breathing is heavy and with every passing moment your concern grows. “Icepack,” she stammers out, eyes shut, sweat pouring down her face.
You leap into action, darting into the kitchen and tearing through the freezer. You find a gelatin ice pack and run back to her side. She practically rips it from your hands and hugs it to her chest. “Fuck, so hot!” she cries. “Another, please, now!”
You run back into the kitchen, but there’s no more icepacks. Instead, you grab a bag of frozen peas. When you return, Harper lies on the couch writhing. Her long legs cycle, kicking against the sofa like she’s trying to dig a hole. Before you can give her the peas, she lets out a cry of frustration and tears at her t-shirt. The top comes away in shreds, but it doesn’t seem to give her any relief.
Your heart hammers in your throat while she turns over and over, unable to find any comfort. “Hang on Harper, I’m going to call 9-1-1.” You go to stand up, but her hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. Her grip is iron and when you meet her gaze, she stares back with determined eyes.
Harper hisses through gritted teeth. “No! I need something cold, now!” Her green eyes plead with you, but indecision roots you to the spot. You’ve never seen something like this before. Maybe she does know best? You don’t have any medical knowledge besides what you’ve gleaned from late night emergency room dramas, and you doubt that’s going to help.
Harper releases your wrist with a final, plaintive squeeze and collapses back on the couch. Fuck it, you’ll do what you can and if she gets worse, you’ll make the call. You lay the peas on her chest, and head back to gather whatever else you can from the freezer.
Once Harper is half buried in frozen vegetables, she finally seems to settles down. The sofa is stained dark with her sweat and the condensation from the bags. Her expression is taught and her eyes are firmly shut. You chew your nails and hope that the worst has passed.
“Harper?” She doesn’t respond. Her legs have stopped trying to dig a hole in the cushions, and her chest rises and falls in slow rhythm. Worry creeps back into your mind, and you decide that her displeasure doesn’t outweigh your fear.
You find the phone in the entry way. You’ve hardly dialed the first number when you’re interrupted by an anguished cry. You drop the phone and run back into the living room. Harper has flipped herself onto her back, looking everything like a woman possessed. The bags of frozen produce are scattered across the floor. Her whole body is in lockup, and you can clearly see the muscles straining below her skin.
She lets out another yell and beats her arms against the sofa. You run to her side and put a hand to her forehead. Her fever is back and worse than before. You’re interrupted by a horrible popping noise. Harper goes rigid and her breathing turns to short, quick gasps. You watch in horror as her limbs begin to lengthen. The muscles under her skin writhe like snakes, doubling and turning back on themselves. She whips her head back and forth. The noise continues as her bones, muscles and sinew reshape. You fall back on your hands, unable to look away. A cold hand grasps your heart – not just fear for your friend, but fear for yourself.
Harper’s hands stretch to inhuman proportions, and her nails shed and are replaced by animalistic claws. Her skin begins to change too: at first it seems like it’s turning the same golden colour as her hair, but as it progresses you see that a thick coat of fur has crept over her entire body. You’re about to reach out for her arm, when with a loud snap, her shins abruptly break in two. The change wrings another cry from her mouth and she arches in pain. Her head tosses this way and that, and when you catch her eyes, they’re wild, like an animal in a trap.
Eventually Harper’s body grows so much that only her torso remains on the cushions, and her limbs hang over the edges. Her legs are now thick with muscle and jointed like a dog’s. Her arms are similarly muscled and her hands have become large and powerful, each finger tipped with a jagged claw.
At long last it seems like the transformation has reached its zenith, and the strain on Harper’s body looks to be lessening. Suddenly, she rolls herself fully off the couch, almost landing on top of you. You throw up your arms, but she catches herself.
When you dare to look, you’re almost face to face. Her expression is pained and her eyes are unfocused. You reach out a hand to touch her face, but recoil as another spasm wracks her body. The fur on Harper’s body has begun to ring her face and her expression contorts in pain and concentration
Trapped as you are, you can only watch as her jaw reforms, and one by one, her teeth are replaced with sharp, cruel canines. The fur that already covers her body now covers her face, breaking out into patterns like a wolf’s. Her ears elongate and form slender triangles before they slide back on her skull. Her nose turns dark and wide like that of a big dog, before moving forwards as she sprouts a long muzzle. Amid these changes the cute face that you used to know completely disappears. What remains feels like something out of a Life Magazine animal special.
Harper pants heavily above you, her breath hot on your face. The transformation has finally stopped or at least slowed, and it seems that only the fur on her body continues.
“H-Harper?” You ask, forgetting your fear for a moment.
The ears atop her head swivel like a dog’s and she opens her eyes. Through all the changes she’s endured you still recognize her green eyes, though the irises are wide and unfocussed. “Harper,” you say again, this time slowly and softly.
Her eyes focus like she’s coming out of a deep dream and she rises to look over her muzzle at you. All of a sudden, she seems alert, like she’d seen something. Before you can say or do anything she launches herself across the room towards the patio door.
She’s graceless in her run, but the muscles in her body are powerful. You roll yourself over just in time to watch as Harper propels herself through the door and tumbles out onto the grass.
You scramble to your feet. A part of your brain screams at you to run the opposite direction and never look back, but another part of you knows that those green eyes are Harper’s and not a monster’s.
You defy your fearful self. Tonight, you will be brave, like Harper said. You put one shaky foot in front of the other and head after her. Out on the grass you see that Harper has drawn herself into a sitting position. She has her arms wrapped around her torso an she slowly weeps. Then you know it; this is still Harper.
You run through the grass and drop to her side. “Harper, Harper, I’m here. Don’t worry!” You stroke the fur on her back. Shudders roll through her as she takes long halting breaths. When she turns her great head to look at you, tears stream down her face. She mouths your name and curls her arms around you. You’re drawn into her wide lap, and she pushes your face into the fur of her neck. She lays her huge head along your back, and you feel her shaking sobs through the embrace. You squeeze your eyes shut and nuzzle into her neck. Wet spots tinge your own eyes, and you hug back with all your strength.
“It’s okay Harper. You’re okay. I’m here.”
You hold her for what feels like a lifetime, squeezing and repeating your assurances.
Eventually you feel Harper’s grip loosen, and you draw back to see that in your embrace, she’s regained most of her human features. The fur has fallen from her body and her muscled limbs have returned to normal. She still sports a few patches of fur, but those shed from her body even as you watch.
Harper’s breathing finally slows and you can no longer feel her fever. She slumps in your embrace and doesn’t rouse when you shake her. You brace yourself and hoist her in your arms to carry her back inside.
Though you’re roughly the same height she doesn’t seem to weigh you down, and you easily bring her to her bedside. She’s clothed in only the ruined remains of her underwear, so you lay her down and draw up the sheets before walking back into the living room.
You stumble over to the patio door. The hinges are ruined and there’s no use trying to fix it now. Instead, you prop it up in the door frame as best you can, hoping that no small critters try and find their way through the cracks.
Suddenly it feels like you’ve run a marathon and your limbs sag with weariness. You briefly consider calling someone, but you doubt any 9-1-1 operator would listen to your cries of, “help, my friend is a wolf!”. Besides, what would happen if someone else saw Harper transform? A stark realization runs through you; this might not be the only time. She was still your friend tonight, but what about the next time?
You could leave. You could walk out the front door, back to your car, and drive away. But you won’t. A strange obligation holds you, despite your fear. Harper needs you, and right now you’re the only person she has who can understand.
You eye the ruined sofa, but it’s still damp. You grab a few pillows and lay down on the ground, trying to make yourself comfortable. You keep one wary eye on the hallway, but no sound comes from Harper’s room. Eventually you drift into an uneasy sleep.