He woke up to find himself imprisoned. He wore a large, thick metal collar that was chained to the floor. The humiliation of this burned in his mind, and he was trapped! Looking about, he could see several of the two-legged ones staring at him. There was a tall one, and the smaller one with the welcome scent. He became confused as his feelings collided with one another – one part of him furious and enraged, another trying to convince him that this was as he wanted.
Clareone looked down at him. "This can't be Eric."
Naomi looked up to her. "Mrs. Peal, I'm sure of it."
"How did he come to this state?"
"We don't know, but we'll help him."
She gathered herself together. "Well, there's only one thing to do. He'll have to be taken to St. Mungo's."
A sharp voice came through the doorway. "That is precisely what you must never do!" Grandmother Frona stepped into the room, flanked by Fenris and Kaneus.
Mrs. Peal turned to her. "How can you say that? If this is Eric, then he clearly needs help."
The old woman turned to her. "In that much we agree; the boy does need help. What he does not need is a gathering of fools, so wrapped up in their own abilities that they can't admit that they don't know what to do."
"And I suppose you do?"
The old woman turned back to Eric. "I know what to do. We may be able to help him, we may not. I do know, however, that as well-meaning as the wizards of your hospital may be – they will be unable to do anything for him." She turned to the others. " All of you should leave." She then set a hand on Naomi's shoulder. "All but you, child."
The displeasure of Mrs. Peal was as plain as could be as she left the room. Frona ignored her, turning back to Eric. "Now, I need to examine him. Boys, make it plain to him."
As two of the tall ones came towards him, he stood ready. He would kill them quickly and painfully for this outrage. Then there was a scent, a sound that made him stop. Looking at them, he could see past their forms, and he could smell their blood. It was the same as his own. He didn't understand, but he just knew that they were his kind. The other one, who was so old; she was his kind, too.
He could see in their eyes and in the way they moved that they were more powerful than he was. He didn't want to yield, but their response if he did not would be painful. They moved to either side and let the old one step forward. He could take her, but the others would respond. He had no choice but to wait as she pawed at his pelt, grabbed at his chin and looked him over. He had to behave. If he behaved, maybe they would accept him and free him.
Frona turned to Naomi. "I will not lie to you – I've never seen worse. If a mixed-blood like Eric seeks to draw out the wolf, he needs to prepare. It needs to be carefully planned; carried out at the right time under the right conditions. Whatever caused him to do this did not give him the time or the opportunity to proceed carefully.
"Now; we may be able to help him, but much must change. The beast was called because he needed it to survive. He will cling to it now because it has protected him. Before he can be restored, he must be able to let go of the wolf. He is to be fed as much as he will eat. He must be kept warm and safe. If all goes well, he will be ready in a few days. I will stay as long as there is hope."