Normally, Blake was the type of guy who never took anything seriously, cracking jokes at every moment like life was a sitcom with a laugh track only he could hear. But today, something was different. He was fidgety, jittery even, pacing in front of me as we made our way through the woods toward our "perfect camping spot."

“So… uh… you’ve been camping before, right?” Blake asked, glancing back with a forced smile. “Right! Right. Cool. No biggie. Just, uh, a chill camping trip. You know, nothing weird about tonight at all.” His voice cracked, and he awkwardly tugged at the neckline of his tank top, as if it had suddenly become too tight.

You raised an eyebrow, watching him nearly trip over a root for the third time in five minutes. Something was up.

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face me with wide eyes. “What? Me? Nervous? Pshh, nah. I mean, what could I possibly be nervous about? It’s just the woods! The full moon, the… you know, usual outdoorsy stuff.”

There it was again. His gaze kept flickering toward the horizon, where the sun was slowly dipping beneath the trees, and the moon was just starting to peek over the ridge. I could see the sweat starting to bead on his brown brow.

He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, fine. I may have brought you out here because I’ve got something to show you. It’s… kinda huge. Well, actually it’s literally huge. Like, life-changing, don’t-freak-out, maybe-just-stand-back huge.”

He took a breath. “I’m, uh… you see, there’s no easy way to say this, but… I’m a werehyena.” He blurted out the last part so fast. Suddenly, he lurched forward and grunted. "Agh, it's happening...! D-don't worry, I have everything under-" And then he tripped on a root, rolling down a slope while transforming in front of you. Soon enough, he crashed into a bush, groaning with a voice much deeper than usual.

“I-I’m fine!” he growled, his voice cracking mid-sentence. By the time he pulled himself free, he was covered in leaves and dirt, panting and sheepish.