Day One-Sixty-Four: I Spy

Well, recon work hasn't helped me narrow down and/or eliminate the problem in ANY way, but at least I feel kinda useful. And a little less like rat dung for abandoning my wife. (In fairness, she DID try to kill me. Or maybe it was more aggressive cuddling? The world will never know.)

After spending another frozen night with Barrel - none of the werewolves dare come near his tower, which allowed him to sneak out and nab me some food from the Beefiary, bless his draconic soul - I decided it was time to get over my fear and explore the castle. Just a smidge. I mean, if the werewolves don't wanna eat me then I have a natural advantage, and besides that I still need to find a way out of this mess, 'cause the population of the castle seems quite happy in their new, hairier forms.

(Which isn't to say EVERYONE got changed, of course. I've noticed a lot of barricaded doors and blocked windows. There must be plenty of survivors holed up in buildings all over the place… I just dunno how to help 'em. Or if I'm even right! All guesswork at this point.)

From what I could tell when I slunk down the stairs and into the common areas, Barrel hovering at my side for support, the werewolves are much less active during the day. They lounge about a lot, moving sluggishly in the light and not caring much about anything. Some of them even looked downright normal, going about general routines like washing clothes, feeding themselves, talking, that kinda thing.

'course, that changed ANY time one of 'em saw me walking along. I guess they can tell from a glance that I'm not a werewolf, 'cause they'd hunker over and growl at me. But then Barrel would grow a couple notches, and, hey, no attack. Have I ever mentioned how nice it is to have a dragon as a pal?

It's really weird, seeing all these people I know coated in fur. They look the same, enough so that I recognize 'em, but they're so different at the same time. On the way down the tower I spotted:

- King Jeffrey, chewing on a banner in his throne room
- Captain Cedric, sleeping in a hallway with a jar in his arms; given that he wasn't far from the prince's room, I get the FEELING he's reclaimed his thinger
- Bernard, licking himself down by the treasury - I bet that's the cleanest he's ever been
- Both Roberts in the library, fighting over a bag of… something; all I could tell is that it squeaked every time they bit in
- Libby in the courtyard, beating up one of her assistants with a plank of wood - old habits die hard

And, most dangerous of all, Eve.

But not a hairy Eve. A perfectly normal-looking Eve, strolling around with her usual blank stare, watching the werewolves with little interest. Didn't look like there was a single mark on her, and the werewolves kept a safe distance whenever they saw Eve on patrol. I tried talking to her, to get her to come with us, but she gave me the usual line:

"Apocalypse now."

Which is, y'know, at least recognition of an attempt to communicate. She's an odd one, she is.

You're probably wondering why Eve wandering about is dangerous to me. It isn't. What's DANGEROUS is that she might wind up killing everybody ELSE 'cause she thinks they're monsters. I'm frankly surprised she hasn't done it already. What's going on in that head of hers that says werewolves don't count as targets? And will it last forever, or just until one of 'em gets too infected and gives her the wrong look?

Don't know. Don't care. It's a blessing for the moment, and one I shouldn't dwell upon. Gotta find a solution to this problem, and soon - if any merchants show up they might get attacked, and spread the disease elsewhere. That'd be extra bad.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Stumped