Izzy’s smile faded as Riley leaned forward, taking in his expression. She stared at him for a moment, searching his face for any sign he was trying to mess with her, but found no such evidence. Either he had been there, watching them, passed by the dog earlier, or knew something about it she feared she should be worried about.
She licked her lips as she opened them to speak. “Uh, yeah...” she began slowly. “How'd you know? Does that mean something to you?”

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“Gesundheit,” Izzy responded to the first of the titles Riley gave. Her brows furrowed, wondering what would make it so “unpleasant” if the beast was little more than a carcass and a smear on the ground now.
“That dog--White Wolf, whatever--was an aberration?” Izzy frowned. “It looked so… normal. But it’s dead now, anyway. I mean, we buried it. Wouldn’t that make the coincidence a good thing?” She fidgeted with a piece of donut she had intended to eat, bits of icing making her fingers sticky.

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Izzy frowned when Riley said Trevor wasn’t normal, but said nothing, letting him talk uninterrupted.
“Riley, we have my luck on our side. With that, chances are, we’ll find ourselves in that last ten-percent.” She took what remained of her donut and tossed it back in the box before standing. “What might this mean for Trevor,” she turned back to him and wiped her sticky fingers on her pant leg, “and what do I need to do?” If Trevor was, once again, in danger from aberrations, whatever she needed to do, she would do it, no matter what it took. If she could not help his situation at home, at least there was something about this she could do.

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“In a secluded area of the park where I met Cerasus.” She snorted and shook her head at the sardonicism of it. “A good distance to the north of the playground.” She quickly picked up her now mostly empty backpack and slung it over her shoulders. “Anything in particular I’m looking for?”

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Izzy watched Riley climb onto a nearby window, vaguely wondering when he had bothered to take the boards off. She nodded in agreement just before he nonchalantly fell out of the window, knowing the distance between this floor and the ground would do little to faze him.
She snatched her scarf and flashlight, just in case, then turned toward the door, but she paused and looked to the child still huddled in the corner, realizing she had not done what she had come to do.
“I’ll be back later,” she promised, then hurried through the dark school to retrieve her bike from its temporary hiding place.


Izzy was sure she had broken a record with how quickly she returned to the general area of her neighborhood from the abandoned school. She slowed as she reached the street where Trevor lived, trying to remember which house was his. The familiar sight of the ranch-style home was enough to jog her memory, and she brought her bike to a stop in front of it.
She clicked off the flashlight she had hastily tied back to the handlebars, and walked the bike quietly into his yard and away from the glow of the streetlights, her gaze looking for any sign anyone was up. But the house was completely dark, and she had no idea which window might lead to Trevor’s room.
As she neared the front of the house, she contemplated peering through each window to see if she could figure out which room might be Trevor’s, when she noticed the door was ajar. At well past midnight. That was never a good sign.
Holding her breath, she hastily leaned her bike against the house, and cautiously approached the door. In the dim lighting her eyes picked up on from the streetlights behind her, she looked for any sign of a break-in. As far as she could tell, the door was still intact with no signs of a forced entry. So, maybe not a robbery, unless they made it a habit to leave their front door unlocked. But still. She cast a quick glance down the street. An open door was probable cause to enter someone's house without an invitation, wasn’t it?
Still not daring to breathe for fear of making too much noise, she slowly pushed the door open. From just inside the doorway, she blinked in the darkness saturating the entrance, then pulled her phone from her pocket. Finding Trevor under her recent calls, she hit dial, hoping, at the very least, to hear his phone ring somewhere in the house, and that it would not wake anyone else up.

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Izzy’s attention snapped toward the direction of the familiar ringtone, every muscle tensing as she expected a light to flick on somewhere and to be discovered lingering just inside the house. When no such ill luck occurred, she dared exhale, much to her lungs’ relief.
But the feeling was short-lived.
She hung up when the phone went to voicemail, hoping Trevor's lack of answer just meant he was a heavy sleeper, then redialed. This time, she slowly maneuvered through the house, avoiding dark lumps of furniture as she followed the sound as fast as she dared, using the light of her phone's screen as well as she could without moving it too far from her ear.
“Trevor?” she called in a whisper, though she was sure no one would hear.

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It was easy enough to locate the source of the ringtone, the screen lighting up from the floor to inform anyone who would pay it attention that she was calling. Brows furrowed and wondering why it was left to charge in the middle of a hallway, Izzy headed for it. Before she reached it, she stumbled over what felt and sounded like a couple books lying on the floor. She just managed to catch herself with a hand on the wall to keep herself from face-planting with the carpet.
She quickly ended the call, and, with her flashlight still on her bike, switched to the flashlight app on her phone, a finger covering the camera’s flash slightly to prevent the harsh light from being too piercing. The last thing she needed was to trip on something else, risking making more noise.
She bent to stack the books, but froze when she noticed the light falling on what could only be Trevor’s living area. His guardians had not even bothered to give him an actual bedroom. Her free hand clenched into a fist for a moment, before her gaze fell to the unused sleeping bag and comforter.
Trevor was not home, and her only means of contact with him was plugged into the wall near her feet.
With a disheartened sigh, she quickly put the books right, not wanting to risk getting Trevor in trouble for not keeping his things neatly stacked, and headed back outside. Thankful no one else in the house had woken up to discover her, she stopped just outside the doorway. It didn’t seem like Trevor to leave the door slightly open, but she supposed there was always a first for everything. Or perhaps he wasn’t the last to open it.
Izzy stepped back and surveyed the house once more, before retrieving her bike, running through her options. Trevor’s usual haunts--at least, the ones she knew of--were closed this hour, and there was little else, if anything, still open. She could ride around town, hoping to run into him, but there was no telling where he was. Perhaps he had stayed at another friend’s house for the night, and forgotten his phone.
Would he go back to the park? she wondered, thoughtfully chewing the inside of her cheek. It was as good a place as any to start. If he was there, problem solved. If he was not, maybe she would run into Riley; he might know of a better way of tracking him than aimlessly roaming the streets.
Wondering if this made her a stalker, or at least put her in the first stages of it, she mounted her bike and headed toward the park, keeping an eye out for any sign of Trevor along the way.

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With her mind ever on Trevor, when she turned a corner, paying little attention to the familiar route to the park, Izzy shouted at the creature that seemed to appear from nowhere in the light of the flashlight. In a panic, she simultaneously tried to stop her bicycle, and swerve to the side to avoid the beast. The force of the stop and awkwardness of the incomplete turn sent both her and the bike tumbling to the thin strip of grass beside the sidewalk with a pained groan.
Heart pounding in her chest, Izzy scrambled to her feet, maneuvering the bike so the flashlight shone on the creature. Her eyes locked with the beast’s golden gaze. No, not a beast, exactly: Trevor. No matter how most of his appearance had changed, there was no mistaking his face, a face she had been concentrating on just before her near collision.
For a precious moment, her lungs and heart forgot how to work.
“Trevor?” she breathed. As quickly as she dared, she put down the kickstand without looking from her friend so the light remained on his unnaturally white form. She slowly raised her hands just in front of her, palms facing him, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “Trevor. It’s me. Izzy.” She glanced to the lupine ears just visible in his hair. “It’s okay.” She took a small, cautious step toward him, unsure whether he was more animal or human. “Are... are you alright?” It felt like a stupid question the moment it left her mouth, but it was the first thing that would come out.

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For a moment, Izzy thought maybe whatever had happened to him had rendered him incapable of speaking, of understanding her. But then, his expression twisted in an unnervingly un-Trevor-like way.
His ‘master’s friend.’ She inhaled, and it felt like her stomach dropped. Though the person, the aberration standing before her wore her friend’s face, it bore none of what made Trevor, Trevor.
Realization dawned on her when he mentioned her presence at his burial. The dog. The White Wolf. She felt the blood drain from her face. She had the feeling that this was what Riley had feared. They had fallen in that last ten-percent chance.
Confusion pulled at her expression, before not-Trevor moved to toss something at her. She flinched back, her palms closing as she readied to dodge, but instead two limp bodies thunked at her feet.
She stared down at them, her mouth agape in fear and shock. When not-Trevor laughed with startling volume, she jumped and her head snapped back toward him until he finished speaking.
Izzy looked back to the two unconscious bodies. Her jaw and fists clenched tightly at her sides. Trevor’s so-called parents. The people who had abused him. Whatever the Wolf had done to them, part of her felt they had deserved it.
With a slight shake of her head to try dispelling the feeling, she looked back to the Wolf. Trevor’s ‘parents’ would have to wait. Something about the White Wolf had Riley concerned, which was disconcerting in and of itself. She had no idea what it could or would do to the city.
“Fine, but what are you going to do?” she called after him, trying to regain his attention as she stepped around Trevor’s guardians. Though she feared she would be little more than kibble to the Wolf if she got on its bad side, what with being little more than a human, she could at least try to delay it.

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When the Wolf stopped, Izzy held her breath, watching him warily. She inhaled at the change in his eyes, her body tensing as she readied to run or fight. Whichever came first.
She bit her tongue against her putting shackles on Trevor, and glanced to the unconscious bodies still on the sidewalk. At least, she hoped they were only unconscious.
“Then how else can I help you, great White Wolf?” she asked, trying to sound as sincere as possible, just as much fishing as attempting to gain some form of trust. And, of course, to avoid getting attacked. “Because your noble mission is what friends are supposed to do as well.”

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