"I've always been this way, for as long as I could remember."
"What, so you were a little wolf boy growing up?"
"Sometimes," he replied, growing somber. "I actually spent most of my youth on the streets. Guess my parents abandoned me the first time I turned. I don't really remember much, it was so long ago."
"That's terrible," Lisa's eyes welled a bit, but she quickly blinked the tears away. As sad as Alex's story was, he was still the bastard who turned her into a she-wolf.
"Yeah, it was pretty terrible. But by the time I was twelve, I was smart enough to put myself out in the middle of the woods whenever I felt the change coming. Eventually, I was placed into foster care and then went off to college."
"So what are you in England for? You work here or something?"
"I'm a journalist, so I travel. I'm here for the next few months covering a story about mysterious animal attacks on the moors."
"That's convenient," Lisa laughed, then a though popped into her head. "Wait, these attacks happened before you came here?" Alex nodded. "Do you think it’s another werewolf?"
"One of us? I'm not sure. It could be anything, really. An escaped zoo animal, feral dog, I don't know. The attacks have been scattered across the country without much of a pattern. I chose to start looking in Dartmoor because of the mythology surrounding the place. Did you know that Hound of the Baskervilles took place here?" Lisa shook her head. "Well it did. There have also been stories about a big cat. They call it the Beast of Dartmoor. Usually, animals and feral werewolves are pretty thorough when it comes to marking their territory. I was hoping my nose might turn something up, but there was nothing."