56

With all the time you've been spending surrounded by other wolves, you've neglected tending to yourself. You take this opportunity to rectify that, putting your body through its paces—running, climbing, and exploring until your legs and arms burn with the satisfying feeling that follows a good workout.

You resolve to spend the coming weeks out here training on a regular basis whenever you have the chance. It feels marvelous to get in touch with yourself again!

You walk along the chipped wooden rail-ties deep in an old railroad cut just north of Union Station, using the time alone to collect your thoughts and relax before returning home.

Several thin metal overpasses have twisted and fallen, littering the ground every forty feet or so with jagged hazards which you avoid with little conscious thought. The concrete walls to either side are covered with exceptionally tenacious graffiti, spelling out nonsensical words and phrases in colorful, cartoonish styles.

As you walk past, a section of a shadowed gang tag shifts and moves out into the light, revealing a hunched form draped in a ragged coat several sizes too big, its face mostly hidden by a matted scarf and a too-big ball cap. It takes you a moment, but you recognize the shambling creature as the lone wolf who talked to you after the play the other night. Elan, his name was.

You're not sure if he's coming for you or if he's simply moving on to a new haunt, but either way you feel an uncomfortable tightening in your stomach at the thought of once again being subjected to the insane wolf's disconcerting ramblings. You can barely tell what he looks like beneath all that clothing of his, and your mind plays tricks on you, imagining his skin festering with boils and disease. Why else would he cover himself so thoroughly?