i know, two chapters in one go is rather unconventional, but there is something important that one needs to draw attention to. this fic was inspired in part by MissAnnThropic's 'wild by skye' and i want to give her the credit she deserves and thank her for letting me play around with her ideas.

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Danny had no way of knowing, in September when he agreed to stay out of Rafe's secret, that it was all going to unravel in a blood-curdling series of events barely a month later. It was late November, and all of summer's heat had been sapped away and replaced by a thick blanket of snow. The orange and dry world had passed out of memory and winter ruled with an iron fist in a kid glove; where people once complained of the neverending heat, they now spoke of the frost that took the fingers and toes of the unwary. Every now and again school would close but there was no enjoyment to be had from these sudden holidays because there was little to do but stay at home and help out with the chores. There was no flying in the winter, what with all the snow covering the makeshift runway and the sudden changes in wind direction.

It was exactly that which sparked the beginning of this whole mess; a sudden change in wind direction meant that the entire south-east of Tennessee was suddenly and brutally assaulted by the fiercest blizzard that had been seen in a century. Mr and Mrs MacCawley were trapped in the store where they had ironically stopped by to pick up some supplies in case such a thing did happen and called to say that they were fine, do not leave the house.

"D'you think it's gonna die down anytime soon? You know, like a freak storm or something; here without warning, gone in five minutes?"

"It's been up for an hour. Weather forecast says that we're lucky if it dies down sometime in the afternoon tomorrow."

When there was no response, he looked up. Rafe was staring out of the now-translucent window with a troubled expression on his face. It was there for a moment and gone the next, so Danny put it down to concern for his folks and thought nothing of it. However, as the day wore on, Rafe became increasingly jittery; he was constantly looking out of the window, as if hurrying the storm along so that he could go and play. It was that simile that finally clued him in on what was happening and then it was so blatantly obvious that he wondered why it did not occur to him sooner. Rafe wanted to go 'camping'. He had always thought that Rafe chose the day each month on a personal whim, but now it seemed that it might not entirely be within his control. Was he meeting up with someone else and so could not change the date of their rendezvous?

As darkness metaphorically fell, the situation rapidly degenerated. Rafe made no pretence of being comfortable, restlessly checking the weather every now and again, but Jack Frost was working overtime and the blizzard actually worsened as the evening wore on. The gale force winds hurled large chunks of solidified snow against the windows, as if the winter was trying to break into the fire-warmed sanctuary that was the house. Still Rafe kept watch, tirelessly walking from window to window, refusing to sit, eat or even speak beyond the odd monosyllabic response.

"You have to go tonight, don't you?"

That caught Rafe's attention and stilled his twitchiness for a moment; they had, up to that point, a sort of unspoken agreement that the issue of his restlessness was not to be addressed. For a while the conflict that must have been playing out in his head reflected clearly on his face, and then he said "Yeah."

"But you can't, not when snowing like this."

"You don't think I know that?"

"Then why do you look like you're gonna tear the house down if you don't get out? Is someone waiting for you?"

"No," Rafe said exasperatedly "but I have to get out."

It was at that moment that the clock chimed, heralding the midnight hour, like it might have in some theatrical horror movie. Danny had half-formed a cynical comment of sorts when he caught the look on Rafe's face; complete and utter terror. It was not an expression he was used to seeing on his friend, and it scared him too. Whatever his secret was, whatever he said about not being in trouble, it was plain to see that the ramifications of this thing was far worse than he could imagine. Rafe wordlessly sat down by the door, looking like a trapped animal, and Danny crouched in front of him.

"You gonna be okay?"

Rafe remained silent, which said more than he could have with words.

Things went from bad to worse. Rafe had taken to pacing in the kitchen; up and down, up and down almost mechanically as Danny watched helplessly. Despite the sub-zero temperature, he wore only a t-shirt over fraying, thin corduroy pants that in combination would probably reward him with a potent dose of pneumonia. He wondered whether Rafe had been taking drugs, what with the telltale signs he was presenting so clearly; the irritability, the shaking, the beads of sweat that dotted his forehead in the middle of winter. If it was some sort of depressant, he could fend off the withdrawal with the painkillers or sleeping tablets they had in the house. If it was a stimulant, he could probably hold it off with coffee and cough syrup.

Then again, who knew what sort of damage he could be inflicting by introducing a cocktail of drugs into an already battered system? A few articles on the workings of narcotics do not an expert make. Standing around doing nothing, however, was not an option; sweat now ran freely down Rafe's face and the t-shirt clung to him like second skin. Without warning, he stopped in his tracks and peeled it off, barely taking the time to drop it on the floor before continuing to pace.

"What are you on?"

"Huh?"

"Meth? Cocaine?"

"I ain't on drugs."

"You're too fucked up to be lying to me right now."

Rafe cried out in exasperation. "I am not on drugs! Trust me, if I were, you'd have heard about it ages ago. This is different, alright?"

And so it continued. Danny sat at the dining table and watched with a heavy heart while Rafe wore a path down the length of the kitchen. Up and down he went, never once deviating from the straight line he seemed to be walking; his eyes flicked left and right obsessively, as if looking for concealed enemies waiting to pounce. A fine sheen of sweat coated his bare skin and when he passed close enough to the table, Danny could feel the heat rolling off his body. The pants went soon after; seemingly replaced by the shuddering and shaking that made him look all the more like a junkie denied his fix. He picked at the hem of his underwear with fingers that tremble not from the cold, but a more sinister cause. Rafe paced furiously now, as if trying to outpace demons on his heels; demons that he might escape if he walked hard and fast enough.

"Go upstairs."

"What?" The command was ridiculous, but not out of character. Danny had been expecting something of the sort all evening, but to actually hear it was ridiculous. Might as well ask a captain to abandon ship because of a storm.

"Go away. You don't want to see this."

"Look, Rafe, whatever it is, I can help you."

"No, you can't. Ain't nothing nobody can do. Please, I don't want you to see me like this."

It was hard to take the high road at this point, especially with Rafe pleading for understanding, but Danny out his foot down. "I'm not going anywhere."

Rafe did not even respond; the shaking and trembling had become so bad that it was all he could do to stay upright. Sweat ran down his face and back in rivulets, and actually dripped onto the floor where he was standing. He was pale, and without warning, doubled over and groaned, clutching his middle like he was in pain. Danny quickly caught his elbow but Rafe pushed him away and stalked into a corner; he followed, knowing full well that he should call the doctor but not wanting to leave his side to go to the telephone. If the situation was only reversed, he was sure that Rafe would know exactly what to do and that knowledge frustrated him even more. Rafe groaned again and shuddered violently.

Figuring that Rafe had a fever because of the high temperature of his body, Danny ripped the tablecloth off the table and shoved it in the sink. Rafe watched him through glazed eyes, but remained in a heap on the floor. He had never seen his friend so sick before. "C'mon Rafe, hang in there."

Satisfied that the cloth was soaked through, he wrenched it out and draped it over Rafe's overheated body. Rafe moaned loudly and curled in on himself, and Danny felt bad. "It'll make you feel better, man. You gotta get that fever down."

It seemed to help, because the shuddering lessened somewhat and there was a little more clarity in Rafe's eyes. He pulled the soaking cloth around himself and kicked off his underwear. And that was when it happened. For all of the drama all evening, and the time it took to build up to it, it happened rather anti-climatically in the blink of an eye. One moment he was sitting wrapped in the makeshift blanket and the next he was on all fours, growling and covered in fur; and then there was no Rafe at all, but a large wolf stepping out from under the blanket as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It – he – turned and looked him in the eye with its unnatural golden orbs. Danny took a step back and the wolf pounced. For a terrifying moment, he thought that this would be the end of him, but all he felt was the rush of air above his head before hearing a loud crash; the wolf had leapt over him and through the kitchen window. The wind blew right in, covering the kitchen counter with snow, but Danny did not notice it as he stared out into the night of swirling, lifeless white; his only thought was that things were never going to be the same again.

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i know i keep sayin' this, but some constructive criticism would really be welcome at this point.