By night, I run with wolves.
Naked and free, wind against my skin, by the moonlight. I hear the pack howl, and howl along with them.
We run, we howl, and we hunt.
And, in the morning, I awake in my bed, wash the blood from my hair and beard, dress myself in a suit and tie, and go back to work for another day, keeping secrets of nightly adventures to myself.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m no Werewolf, there’s no such thing as Werewolves, to think there is is madness.
I’m no Werewolf.
But, by night, I run.