BEWARE THE MOON

By FAH3

ThReE:

His head felt heavy. No, it was more than that. He felt like he was spinning around in a circle as he tried to force his eyes open. He had no idea where he was at that moment. One thing was obviously clear to him; he was no longer in the woods. He could feel a soft mattress beneath him and the warmth of a fire. He could hear the sounds of wood crackling as it was being burned away into ash. His breathing was labored as he felt exhausted and so incredibly nauseous at the same time. He could feel himself sweating all over as he tried to force his body to not let the bile in his stomach rise. His head felt too hot for him to bear. It was almost like someone was trying to roast it in an oven while the rest of his body felt like it was freezing cold despite there was warmth flowing all through out the room he was in. He tried to raise his head, but he felt a cool hand being placed on his forehead and gently pushed down onto the comfort of a large and soft pillow beneath him. As he breathed heavily in an effort to try and cool himself, he could hear voices above him.

"You need to keep him still." A man's voice said. Deep and yet gentle at the same time.

It was a voice he knew that he hadn't heard before. The next voice he did know. He would recognize that soft voice anywhere.

"I'm trying, but he's burning up!"

"Miriam?" John asked and opened his eyes slightly.

His vision was blurred and unfocused, but he could make out her shape. Also, he could see her hair. It wasn't in a bun anymore but flowing freely.

"You have to lay still, John. The doctor's here." she said to him as she wiped the sweat from his forehead with a soft cloth.

"I-I feel – I feel sick." He said as he tried to sit up again but realized that he had no strength in him what so ever.

"He's about to vomit. Turn him over, quickly!" the man said.

John felt two sets of hands on him as they helped him roll over onto his left side. As his sense of gravity changed, he could feel the bile in his stomach quickly rise as he lost all control over it. It felt rush up into his throat and expelled out of his mouth in what felt like a small torrent. He could hear it fall but couldn't tell if he had vomited over the floor or in a bowl. He had only taken a brief breath of air when another torrent flowed through him again at least twice more. He was able to breathe normally as his mouth had a horrible taste in it while his throat burned. He was rolled onto his back one more as Miriam began to dab his face and mouth with a cloth again.

"Doctor?" she could hear him ask.

"It looks like infection has already set in. You'll need to hold him down for this. It's going to hurt quite a bit."

"Mim?" John asked as she felt her hands on his chest.

"Lay still, John. This isn't going to be pleasant."

John grimaced and groaned as he felt a sharp sting in his left shoulder. It was followed by another and another, all of it sharp as it felt something was being pulled through his skin. He turned his head and through his sweat, tears, and exhaustion, he could see that his entire torso was bare. He also saw the rips in the flesh of his shoulder and swore he could actually make out torn muscle and possibly bone. He could also see a set of masculine hands pulling a needle and thread through the edges of the torn and jagged flesh in an effort to pull them together. John quickly looked away while he grit his teeth as he felt the doctor sew on him more and more.

"How bad is it?" Miriam asked.

"It's an awful mess. I'll do the best that I can, but it'll be a miracle if he can ever use the arm again. Frankly, I doubt he'll survive the night." The man said.

John did his best to try and focus on something; anything but the pain of the doctor working on his wounds. His breathing, Mim's hands on his chest, the sounds of the fire. Nothing helped him. He could feel his fist tighten with each pull of the needle and thread as he whimpered in what may have been agony. He just knew that the pain was excruciating and it seemed like it wouldn't end. How much time had passed? Was it hours or could it possibly have been days? His concept of time had been lost to him as well as his ability to tell what was up and down at that moment. He felt sick with his head spinning without it physically moving. He just wanted everything to stop.

"I've done what I can." The doctor said as he felt him begin to wrap his shoulder in bandages while John tried to breathe a sigh of relief. He couldn't feel everything since every inch of not just one shoulder, but upper arm hurt so much that he could swear they were burning from the inside out. "Keep an eye on him and try to get some fluids into him. It's up to a higher power than me now."

John's breathing, while still labored, began to slow. His eyes were feeling sleepy again when he felt a cool damp cloth placed on his head. He smiled gently as he heard Mim's hushed voice trying to calm him.

"You were r-right." John breathed to her. "You were right. I shouldn't have,"

"It's over now, John. Just rest." Mim whispered to him.

"I shouldn't have gone. I shouldn't have gone." John said to himself as his eye lids felt even heavier than before. He closed his eyes shut and he welcomed the embrace of sleep once more.

His sleep was anything but gentle. So many images kept flashing through his mind at a fevered pitch and with unparalleled clarity. He saw moments from his past replay before him from childhood and well into his adulthood. People he had long since forgotten about. Then he could see other things. He saw Bellamy with his throat torn out before collapsing dead. He saw the other hunters dying at the hands of the beast that had attacked him, and he remembered those eyes. Those gold eyes as they glared at him. He remembered the attack and felt it biting into his shoulder. He then saw Sean, choking and holding his hands to his throat as he bled to death. John kept trying to open his eyes every time one of the horrid memories of that night kept replaying before him. The memories were so clear, he couldn't tell if he were dreaming or actually awake. The images were becoming so jumbled together. He could see Miriam trying to care for him, Sean dying, the Elk mutilated, the eyes of the beast before it attacked. At one point, he thought he even saw Jocelyn but in a mutilated state of her own. Was that how she died? Lord, John prayed that she didn't suffer as all those men had died.

Everything was such a mess in his head that John swore he was going crazy. Finally, in one burst of energy, he gasped as his eyes bolted open and he shot upward in the bed. He panted heavily and felt his entire body covered in a cold sweat. He tried to calm himself as he kept his eyes fixed upon his own lap. As his breathing slowed and he began to regain his senses, he could tell that he was finally awake. He saw that the lower half of his body was covered in a sheet while cool air flowed around him. He patted his torso and felt that his chest was bare. He finally looked up and tried to see where he was. It took him a moment to recognize where he was and realized that he was in the guest room at Miriam's uncle, Timothy. The fireplace was cold as bright sunlight shone through the open windows, allowing cool air to flow inward. He breathed a sigh of relief and then felt the sudden rush of pain in his left shoulder.

He looked and saw this bandaged shoulder and remembered what he saw before hand. His empty stomach felt queasy as he remembered the awful shape it had been and was in no rush to see what was left. Curious, he raised the sheet and quickly dropped it back into place as he realized that he was completely naked. He started to wonder where his clothes were when the door opened and Miriam, wearing a yellow sun dress, entered. As soon as she saw him, she seemed to let out a long held sigh of relief.

"You're awake." She said.

"I hope I am." He said as she quickly closed the distance between them and sat on the edge of the bed. She placed her hand against his forehead before feeling each side of his face.

"It looks like your fever finally broke. You had us worried." She said with a genuine smile.

"Did anyone else survive?" John asked and saw Miriam frown as she shook her head. "Oh God." Ron said as he raked a hand through his sweat soaked greasy hair. "How long has it been?"

"Just a little over a week."

"A week?!" Ron asked, shocked to hear Mim's answer.

"You've been in a delirium ever since they brought you here. You kept mumbling something about a man named Sean and a monster." She said and noticed how John's brow furrowed. "John, what happened? What did this?"

"I wish I knew." John said as he looked up at his friend and wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. "Everything was so dark that I couldn't see what it looked like. But it was huge; at least the size of a man. It had fur, though. I could at least see that much of it. But those eyes." John said as he paused and shivered at the memory. "It took us by surprise and killed everyone before I knew what was happening. I managed to shoot it, but I don't think I killed it."

"You shot it?" Miriam asked, surprised to hear what John had just said.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well," Mim started but looked away to her right as she scratched the back of her neck.

"You so think I'm a klutz, don't you?" John asked in a very dead pan tone of voice.

"John, you do tend to loose your pants at the drop of a hat." Miriam said. John just shook his head and continued his story.

"The last thing I remember after that was hearing voices. Who found me?"

"Uncle Tim. He was worried and sent a few of his hands, as well as Fritz, to bring you back. They found you and the others." She said and saw John sigh as he did his best to come to terms with what had happened to him. "I'll send Fritz to get the doctor so he can take a look at your shoulder. How do you feel?"

"Honestly?" John asked as he took a moment to actually gauge himself at that moment. "I feel hungry."

"I think Madame Vee can whip you up something." Mim said with a smile and gave John a peck on the cheek. John couldn't help but smile as she left the room and noticed that not only was he hungry, he actually felt well given what he had just been through. That was also when he noticed something about his shoulder. It was sore, but it wasn't hurting like he remembered. If nothing, it felt more like he had pulled a muscle and not like it had almost been ripped apart.

It took a few hours, but Fritz had finally arrived with the doctor. It was more than enough time for John to eat two full sized steaks, almost of half a pound of bacon left over from breakfast, mashed potatoes with gravy, fried okra, and a whole large pitcher and a half of tea. It was also more than enough time for John to put on a decent pair of pants and burrowed a pair of house shoes as well as using Mim's help to clean and wash himself up a bit. John was sitting in the study as Doctor Richard Norton began to examine Jonathan. The doctor himself looked like he was a bit young and had what could be described as baby faced. It was hard to believe that he was actually pushing his late thirties. He wore a simple white buttoned shirt and loose tanned slacks while he did his best to keep his naturally curly black hair out of his face. He examined John's eyes for their pupil reaction, his reflexes, and listened to his heartbeat. All passed which seemed to impress the doctor. Then it was time for the moment of truth that John was dreading. It was time for him to examine the wounds on his shoulders. More specifically, to examine the wound on his left shoulder in order to see how it was healing.

The doctor began to remove the bandages slowly which was driving John crazy. He was afraid at what sight awaited him and this only seemed to prolong his anxious feelings of dread. The doctor was removing thast few layers of bandages when John decided that he couldn't look and closed his eyes tightly and held his breath. He felt the doctor finally remove the rest of the bandages and was quickly followed by silence.

"Holy shit." The doctor said with his soft deep voice.

"How bad is it?" John asked.

"It isn't bad. In fact, I can remove the stitches."

"What?" John asked as he opened his eyes and looked.

He was surprised to see that the wound was almost completely healed. There was still scabbing here and there, but the majority of it was healed. It wasn't pretty at all as you could clearly see where he had been bitten and the skin torn. It was more than obvious that it would leave a rather nasty scar. However, there was no sign of infection, no bleeding, puss, or anything disgusting that his brain had been brewing ever since he had woken up that morning.

"I don't believe it." Tim said as he looked at the wounds himself.

"I'm seeing it and I don't believe it." Fritz said.

"I have to admit that this is a first for me." Dr. Norton said as he began to cut and remove the stitches. "How's your range of movement?" the doctor asked as he finished removing the last few stitches.

"I don't know. I've been too nervous to try."

"For now, let's see if you're able to lift your arm." The doctor said.

John balled his fist and began to lift his right arm very slowly. It was shaking at first as he groaned in discomfort. Every muscle in his shoulder and where it connected to the rest of his body ached like a pulled or overused muscle. He fought through the pain and soon had his arm at his eye level before letting it drop back down. As he looked back to the doctor, he couldn't help but notice a very surprised look on his face.

"I'll be god damned." The doctor said as he scratched his chin. "Any discomfort?"

"There is, but it's nothing that I can't handle. It feels – sore." John said.

"Huh." The doctor said.

"Is something wrong?" Tim asked.

"Not that I can tell. I've heard of cases where some people heal remarkably faster than others, but this is the first time that I've encountered such a thing. Do you usually recover from injuries rather quickly?" Dr. Norton asked.

"When you work with Mim, you have to be able to bounce back rather quickly." John joked.

"It was never that bad." Miriam said.

"Then we must be remembering things very differently." John said as he gave Mim a slight look.

"I could be wrong, but it looks like you've gained some weight in the past few days. Do you have a remarkably high metabolism?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you eat more than most people and stay remarkably skinny?"

"Only my entire life." John answered.

"That seems to fit with what I've heard about such cases." The doctor said to himself.

"Do I have anything to be worried about?" John asked him. "Everything that I've seen indicates that you'll make a full recovery and still retain the use of your arm." The doctor said with a slight chuckle.

"I just wish the same could be said for Sean and the others." John said as he began to put a shirt back on.

"So do I." Dr. Norton said solemnly.

"Have any of them been buried yet?" John asked.

"A few have. Mr. Bellamy and a few of his men. The Irishman's widow is having a little trouble getting enough money together." Dr. Norton said.

"I'll take care of it. I have to go to town anyway, so I'll inform her and the undertaker then." Tim said.

"That's awfully nice of you, Slim. I wish more people in town were like you." The doctor said as he packed the rest of his things in his bag and closed it.

"I'd like to attend, if I can." John said.

"I'm not so sure about that." Norton said.

"Why? You said he was going to recover." Mim said.

"He will, but there's a lot of people are worried about this. John needs rest and not being hounded by a bunch of questions. I've also had the misfortune of meeting some of the family of the people that were killed, and they're looking for blood as well as answers. For now, it'd e best for him to stay here until he's completely recovered."

"Whatever you say, Doctor. Oh, I heard that Father Lawrence was ill. Is he okay?" Miriam asked.

"He's fine. He was tending to that garden of his at the back of the church. While he was pulling weeds, he crawled right into the middle of a patch of poison ivy. Poor man had a terrible reaction to it. I've never seen a man's skin so red." Norton said.

"If you're ready, I'll take you back to town Doc." Fritz spoke up.

"I'll be off then. Keep me informed of Mr. Stoppable's condition and I'll perform another check up in a few days."

"Thanks again." John said as the doctor left the study. As he did, John couldn't help but notice the glance that Fritz gave him before turning around and following the doctor out the door. "Is Fritz all right?"

"I think he's trying to get over the stress of this past week. No offence son, but we thought you were going to die." Tim said.

"Was I really that bad?" John asked.

"We were making arrangements to transport your body back to Middleton, John." Miriam said and saw the shock that registered on his face.

"Oh my God." John whispered.

"How are you feeling?" Tim asked him.

"I – ah," John started as he rubbed his face and felt the rough patch of whickers on his face and how matted his mustache felt. "I feel like I could use a shave."

"I hope you still have a steady hand." John said as he did his best to sit still in the dinning room with the chair he was sitting in facing somewhat away from the table while Miriam sat in front of him. His face was covered in shaving cream while an old towel was tied around his neck. On the table behind him was the shaving cream, a damp rag, and a hand mirror.

"I'm not sure. Does this look steady?" Miriam asked as she purposely began to shake the hand that held the sharpened shaving razor as the last light of the lit lanterns seemed to make the metal glow.

"Not funny." Jonathan said.

"Don't worry, John." She said as she began to carefully pressed the razor against his face and slowly draw it downward. "You're still an idiot, by the way. I told you not to go out there."

"We're going to do this now?" John asked.

"You bet we are. After everything that's happened in the past two years, you still had to go out there after both Tim and I told you not too." Mim said as she cleaned the razor with the towel around John's neck before making another pass.

"What do you want me to say, Mim?"

"How about admitting you were in the wrong? That you almost got yourself killed?!" Mim demanded and recoiled when John hissed. "I'm sorry." Mim quickly apologized when she saw the tiny amount of blood emerging from the underside of John's jaw.

"No, I deserved it." John said as he wiped his blood away. "I was wrong. I almost got myself killed and I'm sorry. I just," John started and closed his eyes tightly as images from that night began to replay again. "All our lives, I've been the constant butt of so many jokes and pranks. I've always been told how I'm not good enough or how much of an idiot or worthless I am. I tried to not let it bother me, but I can only take so much." John said and sighed.

"John, why did you leave? You had a bright future in Middleton." Mim asked him.

"No, I didn't. Chief Barkin kept dragging your name through the mud despite everything that you did to help the police and everyone else." John said as his voice began to quiver. "Every lead I had on the real thieves, every shred of proof that I thought that had I found to clear your name and that bastard wouldn't even consider looking at it! No matter what I did, he made sure that no one took me seriously. Even after," John said but forced himself to stop.

"After what?"

"He accused me of being an accomplice in the theft, Mim. He used my investigation into your innocence as proof of me trying to cover my tracks. He turned the entire department against me. Even City Hall became involved! I – I didn't quit, Mim. Barkin forced me out. He told me that either I resigned from the force, or he would throw me in prison for as long as he could."

"He didn't!"

"He did. All because I accidentally ate his lunch!" John said as he sneered and pounded his balled right fist.

"Then good riddance to the lot of them." Mim said. "If he was willing to go that far over an egg, then they can all go to hell. We deserve better than them, John. As far as I'm concerned, this may be the place for both of us to have a fresh start." Miriam said.

"I thought I came here to cheer you up." John said as he chuckled.

"Now hold still." Mim said as she resumed shaving John's face.

"Does he treat you right?"

"Who?"

"You know who, Mim. Mankey. Does he treat you right?" he asked her.

"Of course he does. He's kind, he actually listens to what I have to say, and he treats me with respect." She answered.

"You do know,"

"I'm well aware of what Fritz and Uncle Tim have said about him. I assure you, those rumors are not true."

"As long as he treats you right, Mim. That's all that matters." John said.

After their conversation, John sat still and allowed Mim to finish shaving him. Afterward, Mim wiped away what was left of the shaving cream and grasped the hand mirror. She raised it up to his eye level and saw as he gasped at his reflection. He felt the smoothness of his skin as he saw Miriam's handy work.

"You shaved off my mustache?" he asked her.

"Trust me, John. You look younger without it." Mim said with a smile.

"But it took so long to grow." John whined.

"It looked ridiculous. Neither you nor Barkin could ever pull off that thing. You really do look so much better without it." Mim said.

John just groaned in response as he and Mim stood while he pulled the towel off. He stood and turned his chair around when he noticed the dining table. Where he had slammed his fist earlier now had a thin straight crack where the wood had split. As John leaned in closer to look at it, he felt suddenly light headed as his legs began to give out beneath him. He grasped onto the table with both hands as he fell to his knees and moaned as he felt dizzy again.

"John?!" Mim asked as she stooped down to him and tried to support his body against hers. "John, are you all right?"

"I think – I might have pushed myself a little." John said as he shook his head.

"I think you should get back to bed."

"I've been in bed enough."

"John, don't argue with me." She said and looked at him in the eyes. The stern gaze she gave him sent a shiver down his spine as he looked at her.

"Okay. You're the boss."

"Damn straight." She said as she helped him to his feet.

Despite his protests, it would seem that more sleep was indeed what Jonathan had needed. Normally, John was not a morning person. Every time that his alarm clock would rouse him from his sleep, he would do his best to ignore or muffle the irritating noise so he could try and gain a few more precious moments of sleep no matter how few or short they were. On this morning, John found himself rising with the morning sun itself. He awoke feeling refreshed and full of energy, unlike how he usually felt which more akin to a bear when it would first rise from a long hibernation and move slower than a sloth. He opened the window and breathed in as much of the morning air as he could. As he did, he found that his nostrils were filled with smells that he had somehow never noticed before. The sweet fragrance of the morning grassed as it mingled with the freshly bundled hay brought a smile to his face while his skin tingled with electricity as the cool and damp morning breeze washed over his skin. When he opened his eyes and allowed sleep to finally leave them, he couldn't help but gasp as he watched the sun rise within the distance.

All the colors somehow seemed to wash and meld together as one and create a marvelous canvas of colors and wonder that made his brain and imagination buzz with thoughts and emotions. It was as if he was watching the birth of the day itself as he saw night give way to shades of lavender and violet and slowly burn and meld into the pale blueness of the morning sky. How did he not notice the beauty and wonder of the sunrise before now? As he continued to watch nature in its morning glory, he mentally berated himself for ever taking such a wondrous and glorious sight for granted for the majority of his young life. As he forced himself to turn away from the morning light, he couldn't help but wonder why he felt so, for a lack of a better word, alive. Maybe it was the fact that he had come so close to death and for the first time in his life, had truly been in a harrowing moment of uncertain danger in which he truly thought that he was going to die.

John quickly retrieved a few clothes for him to wear for the day and began to unbutton his night shirt. As soon as he removed it and placed it on a near by chair, the door to his room opened and Miriam entered. As soon as she saw her bare chest friend, she immediately began to turn red in the cheeks.

"It's six in the morning and I thought you'd be naked. READY!" Mim said as her blush only deepened; making John chuckle at her state. "Breakfast is almost ready, so don't take too long." Mim said and quickly tried to leave but paused before glancing at John again. "I think the doctor was right. It does look like you've gained some muscle."

Confused at what Miriam had just said, John turned and glanced into the mirror as Mim closed the door behind her. As he glanced at himself, he almost did a double take at his reflection. It wasn't anything overly dramatic or massive, but it looked like he had gained some muscle in the days he had been unconscious. His shoulders were a bit wider and his abdomen was actually slimmer. He had a bit of a gut forming shortly before he had left the city, but now you couldn't really see it anymore. The muscles in both of his arms had expanded and gained some tone somewhat. Even his skin seemed to be almost softer. It was like there was a glow about him. He truly didn't really know what to make of this change. He knew there wasn't anything wrong with him. He felt too good. Without another thought to his appearance, he quickly changed into his clothes and made his way down the stairs where the heavenly aroma of a morning's breakfast awaited him.

"Look who's up." Fritz said as he came in through the front door. "It's about time you got up off your behind." The man joked. As he did, John's face frowned as he smelled the man's breath.

"How the hell can you drink Wild Turkey this early in the morning?"

"How the hell did you know?" he asked John.

"Are you kidding? You can smell it from a mile away."

John had indeed enjoyed a very hearty breakfast. Several biscuits that were almost swimming in gravy, multiple links of sausage and numerous strips of bacon and almost a pot and a half of coffee. Despite eating a breakfast that was more than enough for three or four people, he looked like he hadn't even as much as a small morsel of food. Not really knowing what to do, John decided it was best to take it easy as he ventured into the study. Feeling a little warm, he rolled up his sleeves and cracked a few windows before he looked at Tim's collection of books. After browsing for a few minutes, John picked out a book that he thought looked interesting and sat down in one of the upholstered chairs and kicked his feet up onto an ottoman. He removed his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and placed them on the bridge of his nose as he opened the book and tried to relax. Within a matter of moments, he was lost in the world of the novel and its characters. As he was reading, he heard the sounds of heavy breathing. Looking up from his book, he saw Rufus was sitting about a foot away and looking at him with a tilted head. It was as if John were a puzzle that the dog was trying to figure out.

"Hi, Rufus." John said.

As the dog straightened its head, it let out a small whine before snorting its nose. The two kept looking at each other for a brief moment before the dog finally stood and made his way toward John. It began sniffing at Jonathan's pants and worked its way up. It was investigating every inch that it could before letting out a large sneeze. The dog then sat on its hind quarters and looked at Jonathan again.

"If you want a treat, I don't have anything on me." He said to the dog. In a surprising move, the dog forced his head under John's hand. Moving slowly, John began to pet the dog's head before scratching the animal behind its right ear. The dog moved its head up and groaned in pleasant delight. It rested its head on John's lap and looked up at him with its large brown eyes. Ro began stroking the dog's head once more and it looked as if the dog was actually smiling.

"You're just a big puppy, aren't you?" John asked with a chuckle.

"John?" he heard Miriam call out.

"I'm in here." John answered.

"John I – is that Rufus?" Mim asked as she walked into the study and was stunned to see the dog resting its head in John's lap.

"It looks like I have a new friend." John said as he continued to stroke the dog.

"That's – odd."

"What? What's odd?" John asked her.

"The only people he ever lets pet him are Uncle Tim and Jocelyn. I think that was because they raised him from a puppy."

"Maybe he's just misunderstood." John said.

"Maybe. Um, the sheriff is here."

"The sheriff?"

"He wants to talk to you about that night. If you're not up to it, I can ask him to come back another day."

"No, it's all right. I might as well get this over with." John said.

Mim disappeared for a moment or too as John stood to his full height and brushed what little dog hair was on his pants. Rufus moved himself to the other side of the room and sat down while Ron removed his glasses and put them back in his shirt pocket. As Mim came back into the study, she was accompanied by a rather tall man with a very serious looking broad face and square jaw. He was tall with a rather medium build and chestnut brown hair along with a thick mustache on his upper lip. He wore a long brown coat over a blue buttoned shirt and a pair of dark brown pants that were held up by a pair of suspenders. Over his left breast was a sheriff's badge while a gun belt sat tied around his waist. He wore a dark brown bowler hat that he removed as soon as he was in the study and looked at John with a pair of steel blue eyes.

"John, this is Sheriff Raymond Wagner." Mim introduced as the two shook hands with John noticing that the man had a rather strong grip. For a moment, Jonathan thought he was actually trying to crush his hand.

"Wagner? Any relation to Father Wagner?" John asked.

"He's my brother. Mind if I sit?"

"Please." John said as they all took a seat.

"It's come to my attention that you, along with Mr. Derrick Belamy and several others, attempted to lay a trap for the animal responsible for Miss Jocelyn Possible's death?"

"That's correct."

"And you were the only survivor?" the sheriff asked.

"I'm afraid so."

"Were you able to see what this animal was?"

"I saw it, but I don't know what the hell it was. It was so dark." John said and inhaled sharply. As soon as he began to talk about that night, a flash of the beast came into clear focus so suddenly he felt as if he had just been slapped by an unknown force. John grunted as he rubbed his eyes and tried to take several deep and calming breaths.

"John?" Mim asked.

"I'm fine. I'm okay, Mim." He said to her.

"Can you tell me what happened, then? From the beginning?"

John began to tell the Sheriff everything he remembered from that night. From Belamy using the Elk he had captured as bait, and his conversation with Sean. When he began to recall what had transpired once they heard the beast begin to stalk them, his breathing started to increase as he felt his fear slightly rise. John had to pause every so often and bit his lower lip as he began to replay every moment that had happened that night. He couldn't quite explain it, but he could see everything in front of him but also see the events he was talking about replay before him in perfect clarity. It was as if he were living in both moments at once. As he started to talk about how the creature lunged at them from above, he balled his fist and began to bite on his finger ever so slightly to try and keep his emotions in check. He then described what he saw and what he felt in detail. How it had a massive body that was covered in a coat of fur. He could see the claws and felt them when they dug into his flesh as well as the feel of the long teeth when it had bitten into his shoulder.

Once he was done, John looked down at his fist and saw that he had been gnawing at his finger so much that it was red and coated in a thin coat of his saliva. There were also several of his teeth marks all over the top of his finger as well, one set after another. He was surprised he didn't break the skin and draw blood from how it looked. Seeing the state of her friend and hearing the story from the first time, Mim quickly went to a near by cabinet that had several large bottles of various liquors and grasped the brandy. She took one of the glasses and poured a generous amount in it before giving it John. John normally didn't drink, but gladly took it and began to sip it. He let the liquid warm his body as it slid down his throat and grimaced a little from the slight burning sensation it induced.

"You couldn't make out any other features at all? The color of its fur? It's face?" the Sheriff asked.

"I wish I could, but it was dark and everything was happening at once. I was concerned with trying to flee from it with my life." John said. He heard a slight whimper and looked up to see Rufus looking at him with a tilted head. As John looked, his breathing began to quicken again as he felt feat stab him in the chest like it were a knife made out of ice. Mim quickly saw this and knelt in front of him as his hands stiffened and he dropped the glass of brandy onto the floor.

"John? John, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked him.

"The eyes. The eyes!" John said as he continued to look at the dog. Mim looked from the dog to him and back again but wasn't sure what he was saying.

"What eyes?"

"That's how its eyes were! The way the light bounced off of them." John said as he remembered that telling feature of all. "When the light wasn't bouncing back, they were yellow. Large yellow eyes." John whispered.

"Yellow eyes?" Mim asked and looked to the Sheriff. "Do you need to ask him anymore question?"

"No, that's all for now." The Sheriff said as he stood and placed his hat on his head. "I'll start asking around and see if anyone has seen anything similar."

"Do you know of anything like he's talking about?"

"Not off the top of my head. But it's enough for me to issue a curfew for the time being."

"Do you think that will help?"

"At this point, anything is better than nothing. Thanks for your time Miss Possible. And thank you, Mr. Stoppable."

"Let me know if I can be of anymore help." John said as he and Mim escorted the Sheriff outside.

John and Mim stood from the porch as they saw the man mount the large painted horse he had rode to the ranch with and made his way toward the gate. John was starting to turn and go back inside when he placed his hands against his ears as he heard a noise so loud that it felt like it would rupture his eardrums at any moment. As soon as the noise stopped, he cautiously looked back up to see where the noise had come from.

"What's wrong now?"

"Couldn't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

The words hadn't completely left her mouth when the sound began again. John winced in agony and felt the pain in his ears spread to the interior of his skull before it stopped once more. His breathing was actually quivering because the sound was so sharp and so painful.

"You really couldn't hear that?" John asked as he tried to see where it had come from.

John began to walk away from the house and out toward the barn as the sharp note sounded once more. He was doing his best to try and follow the noise while not collapsing. The louder the note, the more painful it became. He moved passed the barn and passed the workers that were tending to the hay when he came to the corral and the wide pen they used to try and break in the new horses. There was one horse in the pen that they had just unsaddled and were about to take it into the corral in order to feed it and let it rest. As soon as John was near the pen, the horse immediately began to panic. It let out a loud neigh as it reared up on its hind legs and began to use its front legs as a line of defense in John's direction. Several hands grasped the reigns that it still wore in an effort to calm it to no avail. It screamed again as it thrashed its head back and forth to make the hands let it go as it reared up again. One thrash pulled a hand to the ground who quickly rolled out of the away as the heavy animal brought its hooves down onto the ground hard before turning and running to the back part of the fence. There it stayed as it kept shouting at the sight of John.

"What's gotten into him?" Miriam asked herself upon seeing the horse's behavior.

"I wish I knew." John said as he heard the note yet again and desperately spun around to find where it was coming from. In the opposite direction of the pen and corral, John spotted something. It was a man with several large breed dogs. He was shouting commands to the animals while something long and thing hung from his neck. "What's that man doing?" John asked Miriam.

"He's training the dogs."

"For what?"

"Uncle Tim normally uses them for hunting. But after everything else that's happened, he's having them trained to be guard dogs."

"Does he use that whistle?"

"Of course he does. John, you're starting to worry me. Are you all right?"

"I-I'm not sure." John said.

"Come, let's go back inside." Mim said and gently grasped his arm.

"I think that might be a good idea." John said and gladly followed her back. "A dog whistle?" John asked himself.