Leah listened without interrupting.
That was the worst of it. Daniel had expected questions, anger, something he could answer. She kept her hand on the cloth at Silas's side while he told her how he'd watched Jonas come along the path. How he'd stepped into the light. How he'd liked seeing him move back.
When he came to the bite he stopped.
“Go on,” she said.
“He hit me with the torch.”
“After you came at him.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“I chased him.”
She looked towards the shut door.
“Did you know what you were doing?”
“Yes.”
“Could you have stopped?”
He wanted there to be a part he couldn't remember. He wanted the sound of Jonas's voice to have become something else.
“Yes.”
Leah shut her eyes for a second.
Silas didn't move.
Daniel held the cloth to his shoulder. When his old left hand began to cramp, he changed the pressure, using his right instead. He had managed only minutes. Silas would have to carry this for as long as it took to heal.
“I didn't want to bite him.”
Leah opened her eyes.
“What did you want after you did?”
He looked at the blood.
“To get away.”
“And then?”
“Not to hurt.”
She didn't ask anything else.
Help came through the outside door. Daniel moved where he was told. He answered questions about what they'd done, how long Silas had been like this, what had happened to cause the wounds. There were things he couldn't explain in a sentence and things he refused to explain falsely.
He said Silas's injuries had come from his.
One of the people attending Silas looked up at him.
“Were you cut?”
“Yes. There. And here.”
Daniel showed the healed places beneath the blood. He could hear how he sounded. He was naked under a blanket, frightened and exhausted, telling strangers something which ought to be impossible. The room smelled of iron and the heater had made it too warm.
Leah gave them what she knew. She didn't tell them Daniel was confused. One of them asked whether there had been a knife in this room. Daniel said no, then had to explain where Jonas had used one. The questions brought the men closer around him. His whole skin proved nothing to them; Silas's open wounds did.
They took Silas away.
By then the workshop was quiet. Cass had gone with Jonas. The injured men had left by different doors, with people who knew how to carry them. Daniel hadn't carried anyone.
He got dressed slowly.
The shirt caught at dried blood on his shoulder. He pulled it free and found whole skin beneath. His right thigh still hurt when he bent to put his trousers on. The hand wouldn't make a fist.
Leah waited in the workshop.
The light seemed too bright. There were tools on the bench, a mug of cold tea, a sandwich with one bite taken from it. Daniel recognised the bread. He'd cut it that afternoon, when he still had time not to do any of this.
He sat on a chair.
Leah went outside to speak to someone on the phone. He heard Cass's name, then hospital, then a pause while she listened.
His own phone lay in his lap.
There was a message from Jonas, sent before he reached the river path.
They're finally leaving. Bringing food. You owe me.
Daniel touched it with his thumb.
The words didn't change.
When Leah came back, he looked up.
“His arm?”
“They're working on it.”
“Can I call?”
“Cass will tell us what she can.”
“I need to tell him.”
“Yes.”
“I should have told him before.”
She pulled out another chair and sat, not beside him but facing him.
“Yes.”
Outside, the sky had begun to lose its blackness. Daniel could see the shape of the roof beyond the open door. He had no wolf senses now, only eyes straining in the weak light, sounds dulled by the wall, the old pain.
He wanted to tell her about the woods.
That frightened him more than anything he'd said so far. There was still a part of the night which had been beautiful. He could feel the ground coming towards him, the length of his body, the rabbit's warmth. If he didn't tell her, he would be keeping the part which explained why he had done the rest.
“I wanted it,” he said.
“I know.”
“Not just to stop him.”
“I know.”
He began to cry without making a sound. It felt childish. He tried to hold it back and couldn't.
Leah didn't come over. She stayed with him.
After a while she said, “You need to call the officer.”
He wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Yes.”
“And Jonas needs to hear from you.”
“Yes.”
“Before you start thinking about how to say it better.”
He looked at her.
She was crying too, very quietly. That was harder to bear than her anger.
He made the first call.
He didn't tell the whole story to a machine. He left his name, the address, the fact that Jonas had been seriously injured and that he was responsible. He asked to speak to the person who had taken the recording, or somebody who could connect his account with it.
Then he called the hospital number Cass sent.
There was waiting, being put through, having to say names again. He wasn't entitled to be told everything. At last he was given enough to know Jonas was alive and needed treatment which hadn't finished. No one offered him an outcome.
He wrote a message.
It was me. The animal on the path was me. I knew it was you. I frightened you and then I bit you. Leah knows. I've told the police I was responsible. I'm going to tell you everything when you can hear it. I'm sorry.
He read it to Leah.
She didn't approve it. She said, “Is it true?”
“Yes.”
“Then send it.”
He did.
For a few minutes they sat with their phones between them. The workshop door rattled when the wind caught it. Leah got up and secured it.
“Is the boat ready?” Daniel asked.
She looked round.
“What?”
“For the customer.”
“No.”
The answer was small and factual. Another thing his night had broken.
“I can—”
“No, Daniel.”
He stopped.
They went home after daylight. Leah drove. He sat beside her, holding the blanket folded on his lap because he didn't know whether to leave it in the room or return it to Silas.
At the traffic lights he looked at the people in the other cars. A woman with a cup between her knees. A man rubbing at the inside of his windscreen. People who had got up in bodies which were still the bodies they'd gone to bed in.
He could have another night.
The knowledge stayed with him all the way home. It hadn't gone into Silas with the wounds. November was still ahead, and the wolf was his.
In the kitchen Leah put on the kettle. He wanted her to stop doing things for him. He wanted her never to stop.
“Are you staying?” he asked.
She looked at him for a long moment.
“I'm getting some clothes.”
He felt the room move.
“Where?”
“Cass has a room. For a couple of nights.”
“Leah—”
“I need to sleep.”
“I won't—”
She set her keys on the counter.
“It's Monday morning. You aren't going to turn into anything.”
“I know.”
“I know you know.”
He sat down.
She went upstairs. He heard a drawer open, then the wardrobe. Familiar sounds, carrying a meaning he couldn't bear.
His phone lit up.
Cass.
He knows you've messaged. Not up to speaking. Don't keep calling.
Daniel read it twice.
Then he put the phone down, carefully, and waited for the kettle to boil.