"So you seek Hamelin," the merchant at Castaway Cove inquired. When he saw the three confirm this, he nodded, pressing a hand to his chin in thought. "I must warn you- if you thought the terrible rumors of a beast wondering these parts were nightmarish, you have yet to know of the werewolf curse of Autumnia."

"Werewolf curse," Oliver repeated. "Werewolves exist here," he asked the fairy.

"Aye," he confirmed. "They do. Rare to see 'em nowadays but, they're still proper dangerous!"

"Indeed! You know of the curse," the merchant crowed. He leaned over the pot in which their newfound genie friend returned to reside. "It is an ancient tale spread far of how it became as it is now- the machine empire of the world." He spread his arms out for emphasis. He leaned forward again. "You see, no one knows where the curse began, but it started in the early days of Hamelin, back when it was but a small pig rearing township."

Drippy nodded, the lantern jangling with the motion. "Right you are! They made their livin' off pigs- it wasn't just their export either." He shook his head, closing his eyes and crossing his tiny yellow arms across his light blue chest. "No, no, no! It was their bloomin' food source!"

The shopkeep pointed excitedly at the fairy. "Yes! And a vital one, too! But when the werewolves came- came from a dark valley to the west of the settlement- their livestock was decimated." He breathed in deeply. "They would come once every month under the bright pale light of the full moon and eat their fill and continue to return three days after. This happened for years! Whole towns fell to ruin through sheer starvation around them… but not Hamelin." He tapped his faded red bandana and continued, "See, the Hamelin people were smart- they built stone walls around their town to try and keep the wolves out."

"Aye, but that wasn't the least of their problems, now was it?!"

The ginger-haired boy turned to look at the fairy. "Why? What happened, Mr. Drippy?"

"Was it wars? Did the other cities wage wars on them," Esther questioned. "After all, they were the only ones with a decent supply of food."

The fairy vigorously nodded. "Ol' Hamelin got pounded hard by other cities. Hunger drove them all mad, y'see? They wanted what they had. And if just the threat of other towns and flippin' werewolves weren't enough, the werewolves, some bein' turned Hamelin citizens themselves tried to break down some of their defenses. Led to some nasty wolf hunts, it did."

"Wolf hunts," the mage parroted again, nervously holding his chest.

The fairy shook his head. "Terrible things they were. Ain't for the faint of heart."

"So, people got smart and started mining. For metal. They were going to defend themselves on both fronts. Wolves, while strong enough to break down stone walls, were not able to break into the iron ones they built." The shop keeper knocked on the cauldron. "The wars devastated the farmlands through mining alone. They made tanks modeled after the very animals they fought for. They became obsessed with winning out over their threats. When every one of their foes was squashed under the new reigning kingdom, they had nothing left but to turn back to inventing- inventing to prevent the onslaught of the wolves and to maintain some semblance of society."

"But they're shielded in iron now. Wouldn't that be enough," the girl wondered, looking over at an equally confused Oliver.

The fairy shook his head. "Werewolves can climb, Esther. They can jump even higher. Ya really think a couple o' walls halted them?"

"On top of that, fairy, many of their number began truly embracing their beastly lives. They worked against them. Those of Hamelin born blood turned on their own. Once turned, a victim could be convinced by a cursed one to abandon hope. They used the innate nature of human understanding and want of belonging against them to join their cause."

Esther looked at the shop keeper with a raised eyebrow. "So how does one… become a werewolf?"

"A bite. That is all it takes. Many claim scratches are just as damning, but that is just myth." He shook his head. "It got so out of hand that, while entrenched below ground, Hamelin built its walls even higher and eventually covered itself with a massive ceiling to keep people from changing. The royal family is one of the guaranteed few safe from this wretched curse- after all, it's their magic that's kept the city safe!"

The merchant sighed. "That ceiling, I've heard, is both a blessing and a curse. A werewolf cannot change if the moon is not shining on them so as long as they are within its walls, anyone could be a werewolf. Anyone."

"So… they're not grimalkin," Oliver asked. "You know, those people that look like animals?"

"No! These are actual feral beasties once turned, Ollie-boy. Think broken hearted and nightmares combined in one unholy abomination. But only- it's a person covered in fur acting all weird like!" Drippy shook his head. "These monsters take the form of humans mostly- not to be confused with shape shiftin' spells or grimalkin! There's insulting," he spat, wincing.

"Wait… Nightmares? I've heard of them. They're like demons that possess broken hearts, right?"

The fairy looked to Esther. "The very same!"

"So, what happens if people find out you're a werewolf," the harpist asked, turning her attention back to the shop keeper.

He shrugged. "I don't know." He scratched the back of his head. "I hear they just cast them out of their society… But I also hear, they treat them as one who has already committed murder." He looked up frankly, somberly. "They are sentenced to death. Or worse." He leaned back, removing his hands from the cauldron. "If you are going to Autumnia, beware the valley and beware the weeks of the full moon. You may find a stray werewolf there."

As Oliver picked up the cauldron, the pot shrank in response to it's master's touch, allowing him to put it in his bag for safe keeping. They thanked the shopkeeper for the information and began to depart for Al Mamoon so they could arrange passage.

As they walked, the mage pulled out the wizarding tome at his hip. "I wonder if the Wizard's Companion has any information on werewolves…"

"I flipping doubt it, Ollie-boy," the fairy denied. "Werewolves are a secretive sort. There's not much recorded of the beasts outside of hear-say because of it! If ya do find anything ya might just get the information you already know." He nodded affirmatively. "Hard to detect, they are."

The harpist walked alongside them and looked up at the sky. "Do you really think werewolves are as dangerous now? I mean, don't they eat farm animals for the most part?"

"Do bears not attack the occasional human," Drippy retorted, looking up at the familiar tamer. "I've heard they sometimes hunt down travelers and traders in past times when food's been scarce." The fairy shivered. "And they like 'em young." He nodded as he followed them. "Even if they're rare by here, no one's safe there unless they live on the other side of the mountains or in the city- that's what we've heard."

Esther tilted her head as she stepped through the side of a small and rather shallow pond. "Why the mountains?"

"They're probably too steep or something," the boy responded. "Or maybe the altitude?"

The fairy shook his head. "Who flippin' knows. All I know is that once we get there, we better sleep in shifts, got it?"

Oliver stopped short, his head bowed in thought. "Hold on," he began. "Wouldn't werewolves be able to come over to the Summerlands? Doesn't Al Mamoon and Ding Dong Dell trade with Hamelin?"

Esther shook her head. "If there were werewolves here don't you think more people would have talked about it?"

The boy turned around to face them. "But what about that beast going around causing trouble?"

"Too recent," Esther groaned. "From what I remember, the beast wasn't around until less than a decade and a half- and no one knows what it even looks like! There would have been more accounts of werewolves."

The fairy crossed his arms and nodded again. "Aye, and legend has it, werewolves fear the sea and prefer familiar places. Some say it's because they can't right control themselves under the moon so a voyage on the ocean would be proper risky for them…"

"Still… That whole beast business bothers me," the boy indicated. "Have we been lucky this entire time?"

"It hasn't been a full moon, yet, Oliver," Esther corrected him. "They only come out during that time, remember?"

"Oh… Right." Oliver flashed a small embarrassed smile. "We should hurry, then. We don't want it to find us."

They all collectively nodded in agreement. They turned and began their trek across the desert for the second time that week.

They cannot know your secret. You need them. You need to go home… a broken mind thought. The owner of such a damaged consciousness peered around a tree. He gripped the trunk and dug his nails into reign in the impulse to run after them.

A curse upon a curse… The universe was truly cruel.