As he squinted into the darkness, Alfred abandoned the dirt path, blood pounding in his ears as he stumbled through the underbrush. He could hear yelling and footsteps behind him, and although he was exhausted, his desperation kept him going more than anything. His fur was sticky and matted with blood, his pointed wolf ears flattened against his head. He was injured, badly, and losing strength at a rapid pace.

He bounded through the woods, his lithe wolf frame darting under and over low branches and rocks. He was looking for one house in particular, where there were rumors that creatures like him could be safe. It was usually called Kirkland's, but its full name was Kirkland's Home for the Strange and Otherwise Unwelcome. He didn't know much about the Kirklands, other than the fact that there were six brothers. And, that it was Arthur who founded the home, whichever brother he was.

The sound of yelling faded until Alfred could no longer hear it, and he allowed himself a few moments of rest. He shifted back to his human form and rested against a tree. His breath was heavy, and labored, his eyes half lidded. He had to keep going, he was sure the house couldn't be far.

One hand over his side, he bit his lip, grimacing as he lay back. His eyes slid shut, though he forced himself to open them again and stay awake. He was afraid of falling asleep, but soon it grew too tempting. Alfred shifted back to his wolf form and got to his feet, deciding that moving was the only way to stay awake.

He never heard the yelling again, or saw the crowd, but every step was proving to be a struggle. He jumped down from a stone ledge onto the forest below, wincing at the strain. He shuffled forwards, and his ears perked up, detecting the sound of music.

Alfred began moving towards it, at this point accepting anyone who might offer some help. He came to a large, curious looking house. He could only see it out of the corner of his eye. If he looked directly in it's direction, he couldn't find it. The walls were all sorts of colors, music drifting out from the windows, all of which were open a few inches. The original building looked small, but with all the additions and towers attached to it, it was grand. There was a large garden beside the house, and the whole place seemed welcoming. He moved towards it, and, finally, collapsed in the dirt just a few yards from the entrance. He gave a quiet whimper, and then a weak bark, shifting to his human form and passing out just before the door opened.

When Alfred woke up, he was lying on a few blankets, bandages wrapped around his side. He groaned, and blinked a few times, taking in the area around him. He wasn't the only person in the room. There were only a few others, and each seemed to have some sort of ailment, be it a common cold or a broken bone.

Alfred took another look around, realizing that none of these people were human. There was a siren sitting in a bathtub, her arm in a sling. There was a gnome on a bed, sneezing and coughing as he attempted to read a book. There was even a centaur, who was struggling to fit into the room he was too tall for.

Perhaps the most striking creature in the room was the one who didn't seem sick at all. His skin was a dark grey-blue, and dotted with darker freckles. His hair wasn't dark in the slightest, however, and it was a light yellow. His eyes were yellow too, but had bright green irises. He had pointed ears. At first, Alfred thought he might be a fairy or a pixie, but he was a little too tall, and he didn't have wings. He must have been a changeling, then. The changeling looked over, and caught Alfred staring. Alfred was a bit embarrassed, but the stranger came over, glancing over him.

"Ah. You're awake, then." The changeling seemed pleased. "Not often we get shifters like you around here, I worried I'd have a hard time treating you but it wasn't so bad. You were in your human form, after all. Now, if you had been your animal it may have been different..-" The changeling realized he had begun rambling, and he stopped. "Anyways...Arthur Kirkland. And what would your name be?"

Alfred recognized the name at once. "Arthur Kirkland..then, I made it." He rubbed his forehead, and began to smile out of relief. "I made it." He repeated, sitting up with a grunt. "I'm Alfred..Alfred F. Jones. You have no idea how happy I am to see ya."

Arthur smiled faintly, but didn't seemed surprised. "Well..I hope you feel as safe as everyone else who stays here." He held out his hand, and Alfred shook it. It was then that Arthur cleared his throat, stepping back and standing up straight.

"Well, Alfred. You obviously know where you are, but, welcome to Kirkland's Home for the Strange and Otherwise Unwelcome."