It was a quiet night at the pub. Only a handful of tables were occupied and, for the most part, drinkers murmured in hushed tones. Oh, they did laugh every so often, or raise their voices and gesticulate as they told stories to their companions, but the atmosphere was unusually solemn. No doubt it had to do with the body found at the docks not too far that had been on the news yesterday morning. It had caused such a stir, people were still reluctant to stay out after dark. Perrin could smell their worry and fear, as easily as if they were all sitting next to him at the bark, despite their attempts to act carefree.
He sipped away at his drink again to get rid of their scent, not really paying attention to the taste. He was not much of a drinker, but the brandy was strong and pungent, and obfuscated most of the pub’s more... odoriferous... facilities. That was good enough for him.
Perrin eyed the amber liquid, making a face. Whatever had possessed him to go for apple brandy, of all drinks? It was the sort of drink his father enjoyed, not him. Exhaling, he rubbed his face, his callused fingers running over his short, unkempt beard. God, how he missed home. More than once, he wished he could just go back, maybe try to... try to control whatever it was that had happened to him. He could control it, couldn’t he? It was only the full moon that was a problem, right? The woods near home would be a good place to hide during his change, wouldn’t it?
He shook his head adamantly, rising from his seat. You tried that already, remember? he told himself firmly, fishing out a five-pound note and slapping it next to his drink. You butchered Da’s livestock, and you couldn’t even explain where you’d been that night. It was best to stay away from his family for as long as he could afford, and best to stay away from---
Stepping outside, Perrin instantly caught a familiar scent in the night air, oddly musky. Oh, no, he thought, clenching his teeth together. Not now, not when all he wanted to do was find a random park bench to sleep on. Hackles standing on end, he slowly made his way across the street, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. But he knew, somehow, that he was not alone. That there was someone else there who was watching him, measuring him.
