Remus Lupin was tucked snugly under the white covers of his small cot, staring at the wood ceiling above him. It was two o'clock in the morning, and the loud snores of the men around him and managed to keep him awake. Remus turned over on his side, his thin mattress groaning beneath him, and placed his hands under his head. He could not fall asleep. Thoughts buzzed violently in his mind, like a swarm of angry bees. During the day, Lupin acted as though the death of Dumbledore was a thing of the past, but during the night, when the moonlight poured through the window and no one else was awake, it haunted him. His eyes began to sting as he blinked back tears. It hurt too much to recall the heartbreak.

The man in the cot to Lupin's left stirred. Lupin pretended to close his eyes, watching the man sit up in his bed through the thin slits between his eyelids. The man had long, unkempt, black hair that reached below his shoulder blades. He was fairly large in size; very tall, with a muscle build. As the man stretched out his arms, Lupin could see the various scars etched into the skin of his forearm, each one telling a story of the man's brutal slaughters. The skin on his face was taut and dry, with a grayish tone, as if life had been sucked out of him. Dark circles were swept below his gray eyes, and his lips were colorless and blistered. This man was Fenrir Greyback.

Lupin observed Greyback as he rubbed his eyes and went back to sleep. Lupin wondered how a man like that could ever get a wink of sleep. How could he not be bothered by the fact that he purposely selects young victims to live with the horror of being a werewolf? Lupin's dizzying and worrying thoughts eventually lulled him into an unpleasant and uneasy sleep.

Lupin awoke at six o'clock in the morning, for a grand total of four hours of sleep. He grunted as he pushed the covers off of him, sitting on his small bed with his bare feet touching the cold stone ground. He looked around the small shack as he ran his fingers through his graying hair. His new home was small, considering the number of men who were living there. It had but one window, which was positioned so that at night, everyone could clearly see what phase the moon was in. Wood paneling lined walls, and cobwebs had made themselves apparent in the corners of the shack. Most of the time, the shack was stuffy, airless, and dark.

The only thing that was more worn out and dark than the old shack were the men that were living in it. Each one of them had at least three fairly large scars. They were filthy; hair messed, clothes torn and tattered, faces smeared with dirt. All of them were tired, and all of them, except for Lupin, were malicious. Most importantly, all of them were werewolves, haunting the full-moon night, thirsty for blood.

Lupin walked slowly toward the door, his eyes squinting from the strong morning light. As he walked outside into the thick forest, he could hear Greyback's throaty voice boasting.

"I think I might get another kid. Lives about five miles from London. Spoiled brat, he is." Lupin shook his head as he walked toward the other werewolves surrounding Greyback, who were all looking admiringly at him.

"Remus! How about you? What kind of blood you getting?" growled Greyback.

"Oh, I don't know…" Lupin muttered, being sure not to make any eye contact. Greyback glared at him.

"Still too soft, eh?" he hissed. Lupin forced a wicked smile.

"You kiddin'?" he said with a slight laugh. Greyback returned a devious laugh that echoed through the forest as he threw a meaty arm over Lupin's shoulder.

"Get 'em early, that's what I say. Right boys?" Greyback hollered.

"RIGHT!" the men shouted in unison.

"Wizards don't appreciate what we've been through. That's why we've all got to join forces with the Dark Lord. He'll make it better for all of us," Greyback bellowed, "and with that silly Dumbledore gone, it'll be easy." Lupin swallowed hard, for fear the lump in his throat would show.

"But, Greyback, how can you be sure that the Dark Lord will remain loyal to you?" he asked. Greyback's eyes narrowed upon Lupin's.

"I trust my Lord," he barked angrily. His strong hand swiftly gripped Lupin's throat and lifted him off of the ground. Lupin's eyes opened wide in shock as his fragile hands grabbed onto Greyback's strong one. "You should, too," Greyback said to the choking Lupin. He grunted as he threw Lupin to the dirt ground, watching as he panted and coughed.

"We all need to trust him," Greyback roared. The rest of the men silently nodded their heads as Lupin slowly rose to his feet, his knees practically shaking. Greyback's eyes went back to Lupin. "And I'm not sure you trust him, Remus." Lupin froze in his tracks.

"O-of course I do," he lied. Greyback strolled closer to Lupin, his eyes completely focused.

"Prove it," Greyback muttered, "Full moon is just a couple days off. I want you to return here with a muggle. A dead one that you slaughtered." Greyback grinned haughtily, and Lupin smiled back, though his insides were churning with anxiety.

"I will," Lupin replied strongly, a hint of malice in his voice. Lupin turned on his heels quickly and stormed back into the shack. He strode toward his cot, bent low to gather the few of his possessions that were beneath his bed, and began to pack. Lupin would be leaving soon, but not to kill an innocent muggle. There was a birthday party at the Burrow that he couldn't miss.