A/N: I forgot to mention, this is a story from my old account. I'm working on reposting all of my fics on here. :)

It turns out that the coursework at Dalton was a lot harder than Kurt had expected it to be.

Over the next couple of days, Kurt became overwhelmed with schoolwork. Between tests, quizzes, essays, projects, and packets, he wasn't sure how much more he could handle. He wasn't even sure when the last time he slept for more than three hours was. Some days, he was so busy studying at Dalton that he lost track of time and the next thing he knew it was nine o' clock. On those days, Blaine let him crash on the couch in his dorm. The next morning, Kurt always made sure to buy him a coffee as a thank you gift.

The amount of books piling up in his locker was starting to get insanely high, almost up to Kurt's waist. Between textbooks and books for research for different essays, there had to be at least forty books in there. Thankfully, Dalton had an extremely large library, and the librarian usually forgave him if his books were a day or two overdue.

Now, Kurt attempted to gather some of the books to carry to his next classes. One by one, he put them in another pile on the hardwood floor in front of his locker. Once he had about ten, he tried to stuff them into his bag but found that only about four of them fit (Why did Dalton's textbooks had to be twice as thick as McKinley's?). He balanced the remaining books on his left arm and used the right to hold on to his bag, which kept sliding down his shoulder from the weight of the books.

As he walked to English class, he felt his books tilt on his arm and they fell to the floor with a slam. He sighed and crouched down to pick them up when Blaine appeared in front of him and began to help him re-stack them. "Thanks," Kurt said, taking the books from Blaine.

"Need help carrying those?" he asked.

"No, that's okay. I don't want you to be late."

"Oh, no, it's fine. I have a subfor Chemistry today. He won't mind." He was already taking a few of the books off of Kurt's arm. They began walking to Kurt's next class together—he was finally learning his way around the enormous school.

"So, um, how was Mr. Williamson this morning?" Blaine asked as casually as he could.

"He was alright, I guess. He didn't ask me anything else but he kept staring at me throughout the entire class. It was more like glaring, really. I don't know what his problem is."

"Well, if he gives you a hard time, you know Wes, David, and I are always here if you need help with homework or anything."

"Thanks, Blaine. I really appreciate it. Everything. Helping me adjust, letting me crash at your dorm..."

"It's no problem, really. Maybe you can give me a heads up next time, though. I can order a pizza or something for us. Last time I'm pretty sure I heard your stomach growling all the way across the room." Kurt chuckled, embarrassed. Blaine winked at him and Kurt could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a second or two. Was Blaine...flirting with him?

"O-Okay," Kurt stuttered and thought, Come on! Stop being such an idiot. Say something; go after him already before someone else does. He won't be single forever, you know. But what the hell was he supposed to say? Every other time he had a crush on someone, he found a way to mess it up.

After a long internal argument, he finally settled on "See you tonight, then?"

"It's a date." Blaine walked away with a smirk, and Kurt pinched himself, convinced he was still sleeping and this was all just a dream. It's a date.

Kurt and Blaine spent that night studying, writing, eating, talking, and laughing. They both managed to finish their French essays that weren't due until next week, and Kurt felt ready for his History test tomorrow. He refused to let Mr. Williamson give him anything lower than a B.

It was already 10:00 PM. The pizza box was empty and his pen was out of ink. He'd done enough writing tonight to last a lifetime.

Somewhere around 11:30, the exhausted pair crashed on the couch, and Kurt's head ended up on Blaine's shoulder.

Kurt was also the first to wake up the next morning. Eyes heavy from sleep, it took him a while to realize where he was.

Shit.

He forgot to call his father last night.

He jolted off the couch and found his phone on the floor. When he turned it on, a flood of missed alerts came through. 17 missed calls. 24 new text messages.

Dad (9:50 PM): Where are you? Are you okay?

Dad (9:51 PM): Are you stuck in traffic or something?

Dad (9:58 PM): Kurt?

Dad (10:13 PM): Kurt, where the hell are you? Why aren't you answering my calls?

Finn (10:44 PM): Hey, are you okay? Your dad's freaking out...

They continued like that for the next three hours.

Oh my god, Burt was going to kill him.

He pressed the call button and waited.

One ring.

Two rings.

"Hello?"

"Uh, hi, dad."

"Kurt? Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to call you all night! What happened? Are you okay? Did-"

"Dad! I'm okay, I am. I'm so sorry. Last night I came to Blaine's dorm to study and I fell asleep. I know I should have called you but I forgot."

"Just...are you okay?"

"Yes, dad. I'm fine."

He heard his father sigh. "I was worried about you."

"I know. I'm sorry, Dad. I am."

"I know."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Blaine had woken up. "I, um...I have to go. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Alright."

Kurt hung up and turned to Blaine. "Hey."

"Hey," Blaine said. "Was that your dad?"

"Uh-huh. I forgot to call him last night. He wasn't happy."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Kurt wasn't sure what to do, so he just stood in the middle of Blaine's dorm as he scrambled around, looking for papers and books and cleaning up plates and coffee cups.

"I'm gonna go grab some breakfast from the kitchen. Do you want anything?"

"No, thanks." He began to stuff textbooks into his bag.

"Need any help?" Blaine was frantically looking around for something.

"Nah, I'm...I'm okay." So Kurt left the room to go downstairs.

As he walked out of the door, David walked out of his, which was just a few doors down. "Well hey there," he said, catching up to Kurt. "Fun night?" He wiggled his eyebrows him playfully, but Kurt glared at him.

"Whoa, scary Kurt. Okay then...hey, what's wrong?" Kurt had stormed off and was now a couple of feet ahead of the other boy.

"Nothing," Kurt replied, knowing that David knew this was a lie but not saying anything else. He didn't really want to talk to David about this. He didn't know who he did want to talk to about it.

Why did he always have to mess things up? Every single time he liked someone, he did something to upset the other person. Half the time it was subconsciously, like now. Kurt just didn't get why Blaine was so upset. They didn't kiss. They didn't do anything. All they did was fall asleep on the same freaking couch after a long night of studying. Why did Blaine seem upset about it? Why couldn't he just get it right for once?

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"You can't be with him, Blaine."

"I know, Sebastian! I know I'll never have a chance. I can't do this to him. I won't."

"So did you just gather is all in here to inform us that you're in love with a human who you'll never even give a chance or is there something else?" Trent interrupted.

"And why is it in my dorm and not yours?" Sebastian demanded.

Trent (and Blaine) ignored Sebastian. "Seriously, Blaine, I feel for you. I do. It's just that I'd rather not spend the next half hour listening to an angsty Blaine rant on and on about 'unrequited love'. I'm still recovering from you and Jeremiah—"

"Can we please stop talking about that?" Blaine said quickly and turned pink as the boys around him snickered.

Trent continued talking. "—And especially when this time, the love is quite obviously not unrequited!" He threw his hands up. "There. I said it." When he saw the looks on his friends' faces, he added, "Come on, you were all thinking it."

The only sounds in the room were the silent, stifled laughs of the other Warblers. Blaine turned as red as a tomato but continued with what he was saying.

"Anyways, as I was saying, we need Kurt." Blaine said, and Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Why?" Jeff asked, and the mood of the boys became a little more serious.

"One of the history teachers, Mr. Williamson...we think he might know something. About us."

"What do you mean?" Jeff exclaimed.

"How?" Thad questioned.

"Seriously?" Trent asked.

"That's impossible!" Nick shouted.

"We don't know anything for sure. But he just seems more...hostile around us. Wes and I have gone through it, and now Kurt is."

"What are you talking about? Kurt isn'tone of us," Sebastian reminded him.

"Mr. Williamson seems to think he is, ever since he told him that he knew me."

"So this all comes back to you."

"Listen, I told you we're not even sure yet—"

"Who is 'we?'"

"Blaine, Wes, and I," David told Sebastian.

"So what are you asking? Do you want us to start a stakeout and follow him around everywhere to make sure he doesn't have a secret closet full of wolfsbane and silver bullets?"

"All I'm saying is that we should be on the lookout. If you see anything suspicious, let the rest of us know. That's all."

"Seems easy enough," Nick said. "I guess we're better safe than sorry."

Sebastian scoffed at Nick, seeming repulsed at the thought of someone disagreeing with him.

Blaine sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you guys at Warbler practice, then." He turned around and walked out of Sebastian's dorm.

"So we ended up falling asleep on the couch at around midnight, and when I woke up my head was on his shoulder. But we didn't even do anything. I don't get why he seems so upset."

Kurt sunk into Rachel's beanbag chair. They were in her room, telling each other about school, friends, drama, and life.

"Maybe he just kind of panicked and didn't know how to react. I know that's what happens with Finn sometimes. I'll do or say something and I guess he wasn't prepared for it or something and he'll get upset..." Rachel's expression saddened.

"Speaking of Finn, what's going on with you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"You need to make up with him."

"How did you even know we were fighting?"

"Stepbrothers, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I guess I forgot. What, am I the topic of your family dinner conversations now?"

"...Actually, yes, you were, for one night. You can't seriously say you didn't think he would tell me."

Rachel sighed in surrender.

"Now tell me about it. What happened?"

"We were in glee club and Mr. Schue told me Quinn and Sam were getting the solo for sectionals...which reminds me, did you ever audition for the Warblers?"

"We'll talk about that later. Don't try to change the subject, Miss Berry. Keep going."

Rachel groaned, took a seat on the edge of her bed, and continued talking. "Finn stood up for me, but Santana kept going on and on. We got into an argument, and then she told me that she and Finn slept together last year. She humiliated me in front of the entire glee club." Tears formed in her eyes. "And then Finn told me it was true, and I just don't understand why he would do that to me. It isn't even the 'sleeping with Santana' part that hurts most. It's that he felt like he couldn't be honest with me about it. I just thought...I thought I could trust him to tell me the truth, you know?"

Kurt got up and moved next to Rachel on her bed. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. He should have been honest with you."

"God, why am I such an idiot? Finn doesn't even deserve me. Especially not now." Tears were streaming down her face now.

"That's not true, honey. He loves you. I know you may not think so, but he really, really loves you. And you love him, right?"

"Of course I do. But I...he'll never forgive me."

"What do you mean?"

Rachel bawled and hugged her pillow. If there was anyone she felt that she could trust about this, it was Kurt. "After Finn told me about that...Santana kept rubbing it in my face and I just wanted to make him angry, make him feel as hurt as I did. I ran into Puck in the hallway and we came back here and..."

"Rachel..." Kurt said cautiously. "Please, please tell me you didn't have sex with Puck." He abruptly stood up when he realized that if she did, it was probably on this bed.

But Rachel shook her head. "We just...made out," she said in between sobs. "But what was I thinking? He'll probably think I'm just like Quinn. I'm putting him through the same thing all over again. And with the same guy! God, why did I have to go and do that? What's wrong with me? I'm a stupid, cheating slut." She buried her face in her hands.

"No, no, Rachel," Kurt took his seat on the bed again and wrapped Rachel's hands in her own. "No, you're not. You're not like Quinn at all."

"You don't think so?"

"No, I don't. For one, you're far more talented." He pushed a stray hair behind Rachel's ear and smiled when he noticed Rachel gave a tiny chuckle. At least he was making progress.

"Me and Finn are already fighting. How am I supposed to tell him about this? Surely he'll break up with me now. I knew it would come sooner or later anyways." Another wave of tears flooded her eyes.

"You can start by forgiving him. If you can forgive him, maybe he'll forgive you, too." Kurt pulled Rachel into a tight hug. "But you have to tell him. It doesn't matter if he wasn't honest with you. You need to be honest with him so he knows he can trust you to tell the truth. You two may break up for now, but it won't be permanent. I know you two. You'll find your way back to each other in the end." Kurt wasn't sure whether to smile or cringe at the cheesiness of that last sentence, but it seemed to cheer up Rachel a little bit, so he let it go.

"Thanks, Kurt," Rachel told him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "You're a really good friend, you know that?"

"Oh, I know." The pair giggled and Rachel playfully nudged Kurt in the side. "I'll go order take-out." They had somewhat of a tradition; whenever one of them was heartbroken, they spent the night eating Chinese take-out and watching and singing along to Barbra Streisand. It was a good way to take their minds off of everything that was happening, and they enjoyed each others' company. Their diva attitudes may get in the way sometimes, but at the end of the day, Rachel was Kurt's best friend.

The next morning, when Kurt got home from his sleepover with Rachel, Burt and Carole told him they wanted to talk to him before breakfast. Kurt figured it was about the other night, and tried to come up with reasonable excuses as he ate.

"Kurt, we understand that you may be having a hard time adjusting to Dalton, work-wise. We're so proud of you for working so hard, sweetie." Carole said to him. "So I spoke with your father, and we decided to ask you if you wanted to start boarding at Dalton."

That was about the last thing Kurt was expecting to hear. "R-Really? Oh, wow. I...I don't know. It would be easier since I wouldn't have to drive back and forth every day, and I would have more time to do my work. I already practically board there half the time, but I think the administration is on to me."

He chuckled. "But I would really miss seeing you guys, not to mention all my friends from McKinley...and how would we afford it?"

"I already called the school and they said they would be happy to give us some financial aid," Burt informed him. "Just take a couple of days to think about it and let us know, okay?"

"Sure. Thank you so much." Kurt hugged his parents, who then began to scramble around the house to prepare breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later, Finn stumbled down the stairs, still half-asleep. "S'breakfast ready yet?" he asked, and when he entered the kitchen the smell of pancakes, eggs, and bacon seemed to wake him up. When Carole placed the plate of bacon in the center of the table, Finn became more alert and dug in.

Now that he was fully awake, Kurt figured now was as good a time as ever to talk to him about Rachel. "Finn, can I talk to you for a minute?" He nodded towards the living room. Finn grabbed another piece of bacon and carried it with him as he walked to the next room. "Yeah?"

"I talked to Rachel last night. She's miserable, Finn."

"She...she is?" Finn asked. "Did she tell you what happened? With her and Puck and..."

"Wait, how did you find out?"

"She called me at two in the morning."

"Oh." This surprised Kurt. He thought Rachel should have told Finn face-to-face, but he pushed it aside. "She thinks you think that she's just like Quinn, as far as the cheating part. She thinks you don't want her."

"But I do. I mean—I do, but after what she did—I don't know."

"That's why you need to talk to each other. Things will never get any better if you don't."

"What am I supposed to say? I lied to her, Kurt!"

"Apologizing is usually a good start. She seems ready to forgive you. You two just have a lot of problems you need to sort through and talk about. I think you just kind of let them all build up without really doing anything to solve them, and now it's like you're both bursting at the seams. You just need to sit down and talk without having it end it in an argument. Let her know how you feel, and she'll tell you how she feels. Honesty is key."

Finn just stared at his stepbrother, astonished. "How are you so good at giving relationship advice?"

"I was never exactly 'popular', Finn. When I wasn't planning Barbie and Ken's wedding, I was spent most of my childhood in front of the television. I loved seeing couples have problems and figuring out how to get through them. I guess I just kind of learned from it." Which is weird, he thought, considering now that he had a maybe-soon-to-be-relationship of his own to deal with, he had no idea what to do.

"Ah, well...thanks a lot, dude. I owe you one."

"You're welcome."

By the end of the weekend, Kurt had come to a decision.

He was going to board at Dalton.

After a few phone calls, he was assigned a dorm (on the same floor as Blaine) and was given a key on Tuesday morning. He had only brought a few changes of clothes in an old duffel bag; he planned to pack up the rest later.

He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. The dorm, much like the others, was one big room. In the back of it was a platform where a bed, along with a nightstand and dresser, was. When the platform ended, there was a black leather couch in front of a black coffee table and television. A few feet behind the couch was a short counter where a coffee pot and microwave sat. The bathroom was off to the side. The floor and furniture were made of dark brown hardwood, as well as the walls in the middle section of the dorm where the couches and entertainment center sat.

He set his bag on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, leaning his head back. He was exhausted, to say the least. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in at least two weeks, and just looking at the stack of books on his desk makes his head ache.

Then he remembered that none of his work was due until at least Thursday, if not later. Taking a day off will never hurt anybody, right? It was time for him to fix this problem with Blaine.

He sprang up from the couch and walked out of his dorm. He walked down the hallway to the last dorm before the staircase started and knocked on its door. A few moments passed without a response, so he knocked again. He knew Blaine was in there, and he wasn't going to let him get away. A couple of seconds later, just as Kurt was about to knock again, Blaine opened the door, still in his pajamas. "Uh, hey, Kurt."

"Good morning, Blaine. I'm boarding here now and I was wondering if you wanted to have a dorm-warming party tonight? You can invite Wes and David and the other Warblers. I can rent a few movies and—"

"Sorry, Kurt, tonight isn't really good. I have a lot of studying to do."

"How about tomorrow night?"

"I'm busy then, too. Ms. Bennett is having us do this big project for her web design class. It'll probably take me all night to finish..."

"Oh. That's alright, I'll just ask David or Wes, then."

"Bye, Kurt." He closed his dorm door.

Kurt couldn't believe him. He knew Blaine was lying to him. He was hiding something, and Kurt was going to find out what it was.

"Hey, David!" Kurt called down the hall, running up to the Warbler.

"Hey, Kurt," he said. "What's up?"

"What's going on with Blaine? He's been acting weird lately and I think I'm not really sure why."

"What do you mean?" David interrupted, trying to buy himself some time to come up with an acceptable excuse. Tonight was a full moon; the entire pack was on edge today.

"He's been kind of distant lately. He ignored me and I'm pretty sure he lied about his plans when I asked him if he wanted to hang out tonight. Since you guys were close, I thought maybe he would have told you something."

David tried to remain calm. "Sorry, I don't know. I have to go." He took off down the stairs before Kurt tried to question him more.

That night, Kurt sat alone in his dorm, his rough draft for another history essay in front of him. He took a drink of his coffee and stared out the window in front of his desk. He wasn't sure what time it was when he began to doze off and his head hit the desk.

He woke up a few hours later with a pounding headache. He really was exhausted, and his stomach had been growling for hours now. He tried to remember the last time he ate. This morning? No. He had meant to, but with what happened with Blaine and David, he had forgotten. He hadn't eaten any lunch either.

If Kurt was right, he hadn't eaten since yesterday's breakfast. He stood up, figuring he should fix that problem and go get something to eat. But right before he turned around, he saw something out of his window. A tiny light. He turned back towards the window and saw that there were two of them. Out in the woods across from Dalton, a dark figure stood right where the trees ended. It looked like an animal of some sort, and that's when Kurt realized that those lights where its eyes shining in the moonlight.

What scared him most is that it seemed to be staring right at him.

Kurt shook his head and looked away. You really do need to eat and sleep more often, he told himself. It's causing you to hallucinate now.

Because when he looked back out the window, the creature was gone.

He walked downstairs to the school's cafe (god bless it for staying open so late at night) and ordered a sandwich. "Make that two," he added at the last minute. Screw it. He was starving.

He paid for his food and sat at an empty table. He tried to be patient as he unwrapped the first sandwich, but it was like his body was begging him for it and wouldn't take no for an answer. He practically stuffed the entire first half of it in his mouth at once. It was delicious. He had almost forgotten what food tasted like. He tried to eat the second half more slowly, tearing off small pieces and popping them into his mouth instead of eating it whole. He had decided to order a water instead of a coffee, because he was pretty sure this school had made him develop an extreme dependency on caffeine from the past two weeks and he figured it wasn't a very healthy habit.

Just then, another boy walked into the cafe and ordered a coffee (it seemed like the entire student body was dependent on caffeine; Kurt was glad to see he wasn't the only one).

He studied the empty cafe. He and Kurt were the only ones there. There were at least five vacant tables, but he took a seat across from Kurt, at the same table.

Kurt stared at him. "Uh...hello?"

"Hi!" The student seemed awfully cherry for eleven o' clock at night. He flashed Kurt a bright smile. "What's your name?"

Kurt looked at the boy. He hadn't seen him around before. He was tall with messy black hair that fell below his ears and stuck out in all directions.

When Kurt didn't reply, he said, "I'm Tony. Nice to meet you! I just transferred here today. This place sure is crazy."

Kurt told Tony his name. "Hummel, right?"

Oh my god. Who was this kid? How did he know Kurt? "...Yes. Not to be rude, but do I know you?"

Tony face turned red. "Oh, god, sorry. I probably sound creepy—"

"Just a little."

"My uncle has told me about you. He's a history teacher here. His name is Paul Williamson."

Kurt gawked at Tony in shock. He was Mr. Williamson's nephew? What had he said about him? "What did he tell you?"

"Not much. Just that you're new. He talks about his students a lot. He really loves his job. He says you're a good student."

Kurt found this hard to believe considering how hard the teacher was pushing him and how much extra work he's given him, but he decided to go along with it. "Oh, yeah. Well, he's a really good teacher." He remembered his first day at Dalton, when Mr. Williamson had interrogated him. He remembered how interested he seemed in Kurt, how intensely he had looked at him.

He remembered seeing those drawings on his desk. The images kept finding their way into Kurt's thoughts.

For some reason, something in the back of his mind told him those drawings were important, like they had some kind of significance. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to investigate it.

He had finished his second sandwich and decided this was the perfect opportunity to leave. "It's getting late. I should get to bed." He stood up and gathered the sandwich wrappers on the table.

"Of course. Goodnight, Kurt," Tony said as the other boy tossed away his garbage and headed towards the stairs.

Kurt climbed the stairs quickly. He went inside his dorm, closed the door, and ran to his desk. He took a paperclip off of a stack of worksheets and stuffed it in his pocket, along with a travel flashlight, before silently leaving his dorm. He walked back down the hall and stopped in his tracks when he got to the staircase. Holding his breath and gripping the handrail for support, he peered around the corner to see downstairs. Thankfully, it seemed as if Tony had returned to his dorm and the cafe had closed for the night. The bottom floor was completely empty. Glad to see that the coast was clear, he gingerly descended down the stairs. He was also glad that he remembered to skip the fourth stair from the bottom, which tended to creak when stepped on.

He managed to make his way out of the building and across campus without attracting any attention (if anyone was still awake at this hour). He walked around the school, looking for a back entrance, and found one right below the Social Studies wing. He pulled the paperclip out of his pocket, straightened it, and after about ten minutes of fumbling and frustration, managed to pick the lock on the door.

He walked inside and found himself in a rather large janitor's closet. For a moment, he thought about how great these would have been at McKinley; compared to the closets bullies pushed him into, this was like a mansion. When he stepped inside, the lights came on, and Kurt's head snapped around the room. There didn't seem to be anyone there. "Hello?" he whispered, but no one replied. The only sound in the room was Kurt's breathing. He rushed towards the door on the opposite end of the room. That was when he noticed a small paper taped on the wall that read "lights motion-activated." Oh. Kurt turned the lock on the door and stepped into the hallway.

Staying close to the wall, he made his way towards the stairs. He wondered if there was anyone in the building. Did Dalton even have security?

By the time he reached the second floor, he realized there was probably no one here and started to feel a little less anxious about getting caught.

He walked a little faster until he reached Mr. Williamson's room. He picked the lock again and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He turned on his flashlight and waved it around the room. He shined the light on the teacher's desk and walked towards it. Everything seemed to look almost the same as it did the first time Kurt saw it. He shifted a couple of papers around and looked underneath them. All he found were worksheets, essays, and post-it notes with meaningless little notes written on them.

They had to be here somewhere. He spun around to find a file cabinet. He opened up the first drawer, looking through the multiple files of paper he had sorted, but found nothing. He got the same result for the middle drawer. However, the bottom shelf was different.

The first ten or so files were papers from students, from report cards to letters to detention and tardy slips. After that, however, were files labeled "research," "theories," "sightings," "drawings," and more.

Kurt looked down at them, fascinated but becoming a bit scared. He pulled out the "drawings" file first, making sure to remember where it was in the cabinet so nothing will seem out of place. He set it on a student desk and looked inside.

The first item in the file was a sketch of an animal's face. A wolf, maybe. No. Definitely a wolf. Its mouth was wide open, revealing razor-sharp canine teeth. The fur was light gray and it's eyes were completely black. It looked vicious.

The next couple of drawings were almost the same, except the wolf's eye or fur color changed. There were a couple of Polaroid photos of different parts of the wolf, like a close up on an eye or paw or fur. There was one that alarmed Kurt the most. It was a picture of deep, long claw marks in the dirt, and in the corners of the picture you could see blood splattered on the nearby leaves and tree barks. What the hell was it? Why was Mr. Williamson so interested in wolves? They had nothing to do with American history, that was for sure.

Next he found the picture he had seen on his desk on his first day, the drawing of the golden eyes. Now he realized they were almost identical to the eyes in the rest of the pictures.

All of the pictures and sketches were interesting, but what exactly did they mean? Why did Mr. Williamson have them?

Kurt took pictures of a couple of the drawings with his phone and decided to look at them later. He put them all back into the file in the same order he found them in and stuffed it back into the cabinet. Then he found a file stuffed with newspaper clippings and articles from different websites.

Animal Attack in Zanesville

Man Found Dead in Graymont

Wolf Kills Local Police Officer

They seemed to get more gruesome as he went on. Kurt typed into his phone the titles of the articles and the dates of the attacks. He would have to look at them later. It was getting really late, almost one o' clock, and he needed to get some sleep. So he put all of the files back in the cabinet, made sure not a paper was out of place, and left the building the same way he came in.

He couldn't believe he didn't get caught.