There’s a long, uncomfortable silence in which I contemplate what might happen next. Maybe like the villain in a movie, this is where she gives me a long spiel about her hard-up life before she kills me. Not that I totally believe she’s nefarious...
Among wilderness survival tips, punching a wild animal in the face probably isn’t on a checklist.
To them he’s the slightly less frightening alternative to the grim reaper.
I'm some sort of guinea pig in a home economics crash course for werewolves.
