Micah waited until Zeke moved, then he sat up with great relief. Not only was the ground uncomfortable, but he had been wanting to get a look at Zeke’s shoulder and his own leg since he regained consciousness. Zeke apparently had the same thought, as he immediately looked at his shoulder. It had been wrapped well, immobilized against Zeke’s torso, and there was no blood showing on the outside of the bandages. Micah’s leg was in a similar condition, well wrapped and clean. With a sigh of relief, Micah sat against the wall on Zeke’s good side, and took in the cave from a better vantage point. Five small lanterns illuminated the room, which was barren except for the table and two piles of various items. In the pile nearest him, he spotted his backpack and Zeke’s.

“Well?” Kenneth said, looking up from the baby to peer at them. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my valley?”

“Your...we didn’t know this was private property,” Micah said quickly.

“The fence didn’t give you a hint? The sign, neither? What, you yuppies too good to read?”

Zeke snorted at the characterization. They had never been called yuppies before in their lives. “We didn’t exactly take it seriously,” Zeke admitted wryly. “Monsters? Really?”

“Did the sign lie?” Kenneth asked pointedly.

“Ah...no,” Zeke said with a grimace. “That wolf was definitely monstrous.”

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Kenneth said with a scowl. “So is my grandson, here. If I hadn’t seen it happen, all four of you would be dead.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate,” Zeke said, raising an eyebrow.

Kenneth sighed heavily. “Pregnant werewolves are the most dangerous. You all just happened to come up here when Jacob was on his last turn before the birth. Baby was due to be born tomorrow, when the moon wouldn’t be an issue anymore, but you two screwed that up. Werewolves can heal from just about any wound, unless it’s made with a silver weapon, and unless the weapon is embedded in a vital organ for a certain amount of time. Werewolf fetuses, though, won’t survive long if their parent isn’t breathing. When you shoved that stick in Jacob’s ear, you embedded it in his brain. He died for seven minutes, two minutes shy of killing my grand-baby here. You two were bleeding out. The stress of the situation kicked off Jacob’s labor, and the baby was born early.”

“A day early doesn’t make that much difference, does it?” Micah asked.

“It does when you’re a werewolf,” Kenneth snapped. “Now, instead of caring for his son and getting the rest he needs, Jacob has to suffer through another full moon, and the baby has to take a bottle.”

“As opposed to...?” Micah asked, legitimately confused.

“Nursing, you idiot,” Kenneth said sharply. “You think a man who gives birth can’t nurse?”

“Uh...I haven’t thought much about men giving birth until just this very minute,” Micah admitted.

“Well, you better start,” Kenneth said. “You’ll be dealing with it yourself, or your partner here will, eventually.”

“Woah, woah,” Micah said quickly. “First of all, we aren’t partners like that. Second, neither of us can get pregnant. That’s a werewolf thing.”

Zeke shot him a curious look, and Micah just shook his head. Tell you later, he thought. Kenneth was looking at him as if he had exposed himself as a complete idiot, and Micah shifted uncomfortably. Had he skipped a day in sex ed? He didn’t think so, but it had been so long ago....

“And just how do you think werewolves get to be werewolves?” Kenneth demanded.

“They’re born that way,” Micah said confidently.

“Or...?” Kenneth prompted.

“Or...what?”

“Or they get bit, you moron! Jesus, what are they teaching in schools these days? You both got bit by a fully turned werewolf. You’ve got one moon cycle to prepare. You better lock yourselves away or head out to the wilderness or both come next full moon, because the first one is always the worst. You might not survive it, you’re too old for it to be easy. Kids, teenagers, they’re flexible. Used to growing. You two are full-grown men who should be able to read a damn sign and do what it tells you. Your bones don’t move easy. It’s gonna be rough. It’s gonna be bloody. And it might be the last thing you ever try to do.”

Terror ripped through Micah’s gut, sending cold sweat pooling in every pore. He recognized that Kenneth spoke the truth, but then immediately reminded himself that he wasn’t alone. He had someone who knew all there was to know about werewolves; she would be able to help them get through the shift in one piece. She might even be able to keep it from happening at all, if they could get to her in time.

“How long have we been unconscious?” Zeke asked, as if reading his mind.

“Two days,” Kenneth said. “You showed up on the first night of the full moon, slept through the second, and here we are at the third.”

“I thought the full moon only lasted one night,” Zeke said dubiously.

Kenneth turned his you’re-too-stupid-to-live expression onto Zeke. “Son, the full moon only lasts for ninety seconds if you want to get technical. The effects of the full moon last three nights. Learn that. Plan your life around it. Three nights a month, you are going to be the most dangerous thing alive.”

Zeke opened his mouth and shut it again, clenching his jaw.

“You think you can walk?” Kenneth asked.

Good question. Micah stood, putting most of his weight on his good leg. He clearly remembered hearing the bones of his other leg snap into multiple pieces, so he very gingerly stepped onto that foot. To his surprise, his leg didn’t collapse under him. He stood on it firmly, and it hurt like a son of a bitch, but it held. He took one step, then another, limping heavily but able to move.

“That’s impossible,” he blurted.

“Are you serious? Did you even learn about werewolves in school, or have they quit teaching altogether?” Kenneth asked heatedly.

“They don’t teach about werewolves in school,” Zeke said flatly. “At least it wasn’t in my curriculum.”

“Oh that’s great! That’s just wonderful!” Kenneth said bitterly. “Just like humans. Don’t like a thing, ignore it until it bites you in the ass. Literally.”

“Hold on,” Zeke said, shaking his head. “Are you telling me that werewolves were taught in school? As real things, not fictional creatures?”

“Of course they were!” Kenneth exploded. “Everybody was taught how to identify a werewolf, what to do during the full moon as a human, what to do if you knew a werewolf, what to do if you were a werewolf, werewolf biology, werewolf sexology. They spent entire semesters covering this stuff, with refreshers every year! What have they been doing down there?!”

“Uh...not talking about werewolves,” Zeke said. “Most people don’t even believe in werewolves. They’re just rumors and silly stories your grandparents tell you to scare you.”

“They should scare you!” Kenneth was shaking with rage now. “How has there not been an outbreak with no education?”

Micah knew the answer, but he almost didn’t want to say. Kenneth already looked betrayed by humanity, and this would only make it worse. Kenneth saw the knowledge on his face, though, and turned his pale eyes to bore into Micah’s soul. Micah sighed.

“They were all kicked out,” Micah said. “Forced relocation, under spoken threat of imprisonment, and unspoken threat of death. They were pushed to the outskirts. For a long time, there were border patrols in and out of the city, checking irises. Any werewolves caught trying to sneak back in were shot. It didn’t take long for them to stop trying.”

Zeke stared at Micah in shock, and Micah shrugged. He wasn’t going to show Kenneth his whole hand, so Zeke was just going to have to learn some patience.

“How long ago was this?” Kenneth asked quietly, vibrating with emotion.

“Sixty years,” Micah told him gently.

Kenneth dropped his head into his free hand, covering his eyes. His shoulders shook, and a single tear hit the dirt at his feet. “Oh, God. Poor Jeannie. I thought she just left me. I didn’t think...Jesus Christ, my Jeannie.” He sighed heavily, then wiped his eyes.

“Where have you been for the last sixty years? How did you not know all of this?” Micah asked.

“Got a ranch down the other side of the mountain. Six hours from anything. Grow my own food, got my own well and solar panels. Bunch of other werewolves have ranches down there. Got a good trade economy going on. I used to go into town once a month with Jeannie, but after she disappeared I quit going anywhere. Just didn’t care. Guess I missed some shit,” he finished quietly. He stared off at a corner of the cave, lost in his private grief.

“I’m sorry,” Micah told him.

“Me too,” Kenneth said with a mirthless laugh. “You two can’t go home now, can you?”

“Yes we can,” Zeke said stubbornly. “There’s no border patrol now, not that I’ve seen.”

“There isn’t,” Micah confirmed. “They were defunded after ten years. Nobody came back, nobody else turned, and everything went back to normal.”

“Okay, how do you know all of this?” Zeke demanded. “How do I not know any of this?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Micah murmured.

“Tell him now,” Kenneth said miserably. “I ain’t gonna turn you in. Who would I turn you in to?”

That was fair...if he had been telling the truth about everything. Micah looked hard at Kenneth’s face, and saw no deception there. He seemed honestly, abjectly miserable. There was only one problem, one little inconsistency that made Micah hesitate.

“Micah?” Zeke asked.

“In a second...Kenneth, you look about fifty-five.”

“Werewolves age slower,” Kenneth said numbly.

“Yeah, so, if you’re a werewolf, why aren’t you turning? And if you found a way around turning, why didn’t you give Jacob that workaround, so he could be with his kid?”

Kenneth looked at him sharply. “When you live this long, you learn to control yourself,” he said obliquely.

“Uh-huh. Question is, how?” Micah wasn’t willing to let this go, not if they were trapped in here with him until dawn. If he wasn’t as old as he said, Micah wanted to know why he was lying. There were too many questions about him as a werewolf to let anything go. Micah stared hard at him, letting him know that he wasn’t going to be able to wriggle out of this with a non-response. Kenneth met his glare with one of equal power for a long moment, then sighed.

“Got a silver bullet wedged in my hip,” he admitted finally. “Got nothing to do with self-control. Damn thing keeps my bones solid, poisons my blood. I’m allergic to moonlight because of it, gives me hives from hell and swollen joints. I stay inside, in the dark, when the moon’s full.”

“But you saw what happened when Jacob attacked?” Micah asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Yes,” Kenneth said shortly. “I heard Jacob attack and came out. Shouldn’t have been anything up here for him to go after, but there you were. Be grateful. I spent twenty-four hours itchy and swollen because of you assholes.”

The answers satisfied Micah, but he glanced at Zeke to see if he agreed. Zeke looked as though he was trying to follow a conversation spoken in Greek while solving an algebra problem in his head. He wasn’t going to be any help until he’d wrapped his mind around the reality of the situation. But he also wasn’t going to be able to process Micah’s answer to his question, so Micah let it lie for now. It seemed that everyone had forgotten anyway.

“Well, since you can both walk,” Kenneth said, breaking the moment of uncomfortable silence, “let’s get you off my damn mountain.”

“We aren’t walking out there with Jacob?” Micah asked, aghast.

Kenneth gave him that look again, and Micah’s face went hot. Of course they wouldn’t do that.