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Page 167
did you bother telling me all this? And, if I'm this monster you describe, why aren't you scared?"
Kazie chuckled ruefully. "Scared? What have I got to be scared of? Look at me. How old you think I am?"
Cyrus squinted. The old man's face was etched with wrinkles like erosion in a mud bank and his skin was as thin as onion paper.
"I don't know, seventy maybe?"
Kazie laughed. "You're a good boy. I'm eighty-eight and I'm dying. I got the big C, in my lungs and my bones. Why you think I smoke this dope? You think I'm some old hippie? The therapy makes me sick and the dope helps."
"I'm sorry. Isn't there anything that can be done?"
"We'll get to that. Tell me one more thing. You ever hurt anybody when you was a wolf?"
Cyrus shifted in the chair.
"Don't worry. I ain't no cop."
"I never hurt anybody that wasn't trying to hurt me or Kyna. But it was close one time. I ran into this homeless man in a park in Seattle. It took everything I had not to . . . do something to him."
Kazie nodded once more. "You can't go feeling no guilt about that. The wolf always goes for the old and sick. Culls the herd. Why didn't you take him?"
"I don't know. It was hard not to. I guess I just couldn't do it."
"So you was in control even when you were the wolf? YouI mean the manwas in charge?"
Cyrus shrugged and nodded. "I guess so."
"What's it like being the wolf? You hungry all the time?"
"Why, don't you know?" Cyrus asked in exasperation.
"How many werewolves you think there are running around? You're the first I ever sat down with across a cold beer."
Cyrus let slip a sad smile. "Only difference I noticed is that I have this craving for rare meat. I don't think about hurting people much, just the opposite. I try to steer clear of men when

 
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