Uriah, practicing his freedom after being confined to a bed in a small room for what seemed to him an eternity. He took a deep breath, capturing all the lingering smells that were carried with the cold air around him. It made him feel fresh, alive, and full of anticipation. He shook his head, then looked in the direction of the most tempting smell.

“It’s better if we have a talk in a warm place.” He lifted his finger, pointing at the source. His words held a particular suggestion. His eyes glimmered under the dark sky. As his lips made such a twisted curve, his claws and fangs were fighting to be liberated from the excitement.

It didn’t take him and his companion long to reach their destination. And there he barely could control his excessive salivation.

Uriah, even if it wasn’t long since he savored the flavor of fresh meat, he didn’t enjoy the pleasure of hunting for a very long time. He was a renowned hunter, and this place was just filled with delicious prey that was tickling this instinct.

A fat woman with a pig-like nose opened the door for them when her eyes fall at Uriah, a trembling wave of fear ran through her body while her skin lost its pinkish coloration. However, she fought to regain some of her composure and when she sighted the big men behind him. Her tensed limbs relaxed as she tried to talk in a calmer tone:

“Pardon me, Sir… But this is the entrance to the kitchen, the entrance to the tavern is in the other direction.”

Yet Uriah didn’t care. He was going to step inside, anyway. He only got stopped by a big hand crashing into his shoulder from behind, forcing him to change the direction of his steps. He turned his head towards him to see frowned eyebrows and strain all over his forehead telling him in a language only understood by those who are used to feast on meat: “If you make a scene, this little conversation will not start.”

Madam Linda watched the two shadows walking away from the kitchen door as she froze in her place until one of her coworkers asked her what was wrong. She answered, working to get her sense back and slowly closing the door: “It was Mr. Isidore and… and…”

“And who?”

Madam Linda paused for a moment. She was unable to answer as the wave of fear recirculated her way into her body again.

“And who?” Her co-worker insisted…

Madam Linda finally closed the door before she answered… her voice mirrored her inner state: “I don’t know, a new face... Ah, I think he was Dr. Rokah’s patient…”

“He had this terrifying air about him...” she murmured, her last sentence in a barely audible voice.

The table where the two unexpected peers sat face to face like allies were full of white meat, beer, and water. Uriah said, finally shoveling another bite into his mouth: “Forgive my earlier conduct. I couldn’t help myself. My instinct was hard to surpass because of the hunger. I assure you that won’t happen again.”

The expression on Isidore’s face didn’t change. He was observing this damn wolf in front of him with disdain, blabbing and eating at the same time. Wondering about what he was going to do with him.

If he killed him and says that he was the predator who was killing the woodcutter, his entire plan and hard work will fall apart, and certainly, that man will come after his head.

“Well, bird meat isn’t that satisfying, but it will do the trick. I don’t like white meat. It is tasteless.”

What this damn wolf after talking rubbish…. Isidore's features changed slowly to annoyingness. He took a pull of beer to extend his running patience.

Uriah asked him between bites: “Why don’t you eat?”

After gulping down the whole glass, Isidore finally talked: “This farm village is within the Crocotta’s territory. How did you end up in here?”

Uriah stopped chewing the food in his mouth and swallowed it right away. He rolled his eyes, then declared: “Crocotta’s territory?”

In his memories, flashed a picture of a warrior with a patch of white hair in his eyebrow and eyelashes. A frontal attack and everything became black until he opened his eyes in that tiny room. He then said: "I don’t know, I was unconscious all this time."

Isidore eyed him and confirmed that he wasn’t lying:” Then you didn’t know how you ended up with that mongrel.”

“Mongrel? You always keep calling him mongrel. What is this? A new nomenclature?”

“The villagers here think of themselves as mongrels,” Isidore explained as he poured himself another glass. He was aiming to withstand the wolf's reaction. And thus, he concluded he didn’t know anything. Hence, he asked the same question, but used a different rephrasing:” What do you know about the doctor who saved your life.”

“Ah, you said it yourself before, that aberrant who is playing a doctor. I don’t know what he is.”

" But we should be honest, he is very knowledgeable about physiology and diseases, I was observing him.”

" That's what boggled me and wanted to understand. He is the spitting image of someone I know, but at the same time he is not him.”

Isidore smashed the glass in his hand on the table and said eye widen.” And it happens that this person you know was also a doctor.” He felt a little relieved after he met someone who shared his thought about the albino mongrel. It looked like he wasn’t going crazy or under some kind of illusion.

On the other hand, Uriah responded to this allusion: “I guess you know him, too. I mean the real one.”

The surrounding air became heavy and hot… as if Uriah learned something he shouldn’t and sensed that Isidore attempted to avoid to confirm his conclusion.

Uriah didn’t want to get on Isidore's bad side. So he took a slug of the drink in front of him to buy some seconds in the hope of easy the stagnated atmosphere.

"What do you want then, to kill him... You are not sure that he wasn’t the one who saved your life. I thought the Lycanthropes were loyal. Is this the definition of loyalty in the language of your kind?” Isidore was provoked by him,

It seemed to Uriah that Isidore wasn’t planning to get rid of the fake doctor, as he had witnessed from the previous encounters. It was more like; he intended to use him. But that was exactly the opposite of Uriah's intention. Because if that fake doctor isn’t dead, the plague eating under his skin will soon get into his bones. Too bad, the plaque contained constraints. If not, he had killed him already. Maybe this will stop the progression of the plague.

Uriah took a deep breath. This conversation was a waste of time. However, given his weak state, he didn’t show this opinion to the man in front of him. He said: “Please, refrain from using this nomenclature in my presence. It pains me to hear a fellow ethereal creature using this derogatory naming calling me a Lycanthrope.” He lowered his voice after he confirmed no one was eavesdropping or looking at them, then he continued “It gives me the feeling of being inferior and shallow if you don’t wish to address me with my name please refer to me by the divine naming an Amarok.”

The sound of smashed glass and a tumbled chair on the floor alerted all the clients in the tavern, whom they curiously searched for the source of the disturbance. It was madam Linda, who dropped the glass in her hands when she glanced at the man sitting with Isidore.

Uriah waited for the waitress to clean up the remnant of the broken glass before he got up and declared in a low voice: “Well then my friend.” then left.

Isidore had a complex feeling about him. He thought about what he was going to do without making a big scene... Maybe he should wait and see.