Monday, 12 September.
5:52 PM.
One hour to moonrise.

Although the sun was only beginning to dip towards the horizon, the halls of Level Two had mostly cleared out, transitioning over to the skeleton watch that would stay on call during the coming full moon. 

In the hours before a typical full moon, the Head of the Werewolf Capture Unit was immersed in the bustle of activity on Level Four.  Usually, when daylight started to wane, the WCU made their final arrangements for the night, dividing into teams and heading for their assignments.  Even on summer days like this, when the moon would make it into the sky well before the sun set, it was better to be in the field well before any werewolves started to transform.

And yet, this particular moonrise had brought him to Level Two.

Every footstep jangled as Kurby exited the lift and began to head down the hallway.  One look at him left no doubt that the werewolf hunter was clad in his full hunting gear: a silver mail tunic, dark leather boots, leather gauntlets, and a looped silver chain hanging from his belt.  Only his face and hands were exposed, the hood of a mail coif hanging over his back, and a pair of leather gloves stuck into his belt.

Jaw set, Kurby made his way down the hallway, glancing at each door that he passed.  Although the individual that he'd come to find had been back on Level Two for several weeks now, he didn't make a habit of visiting without reason.

Luckily. it didn't take long to find the Medic's office.  The door was half ajar, projecting a warm light into the hallway.  Inside, he could hear low voices.  Kurby didn't pause; he knocked once, and then pushed the door the rest of the way open and started inside.

"Nagde."  The werewolf hunter paused just inside the doorway.  He glanced first at the Healer, and then gave the younger, black-clad figure sitting alongside her a cool look.  "Hope I'm not interruptin'."

“Don’t go shooting the messenger,” Tulojow offered, lifting both hands in fake surrender.  The look on her grand-nephew’s face spoke volumes.  “If you’d return your mother’s calls, she could express her concerns about your emotional and spiritual well-being directly to you.  And, I wouldn't have to play eagle.” 

Her grand-nephew's shift had finished for the day and Tulojow's own was due to wrap up shortly, barring any unforeseen delays.  Tulojow had invited him over for supper and he'd been keeping her company until then.  Though, perhaps, the laundry list of notes from home appeared to have led Leonard to question that choice. 

"I'll give her a call, when I can.  When I can get a proper signal."

"I know, I know.  I'm not here to nag you, Leonard.  Again, just passing along the message." 

"It's Migs.  Really.  No one here calls me that.  It seems in poor taste."

Tulojow arched an eyebrow at Migs before twisting more properly in his direction.  "Are you ashamed of your namesake?" she asked. 

"I work in law enforcement and I'm named after a man in federal prison for killing federal officers.  It's not something I'm that interested in-"

A quick knock just barely proceeded the arrival of a field-clad Bagnold.  Tulojow shifted in her seat, recognizing all the indicators of a not-casual visit.  Tulojow pushed herself to her feet and gestured for Bagnold to come into the office.  "No, no.  Not at all.  Do you have something for me?"

"Do you need me to leave?" Migs added, looking up at Bagnold.

Kurby paused, his attention shifting back to focus on the other wizard again.  Tall and big, but young and clad all in black, which signified that he was an Auror Trainee.  Even the short question he'd asked hinted at the kid's American roots.  And there were hints of Nagde herself about his features.

Even a couple of months before, Kurby would have decisively affirmed that it was time for the kid to leave so that they could get on with things.  He wasn't in the business of dealing with trainees, especially ones that weren't likely to understand the moral complexity of the Werewolf Capture Unit's work.  But Blake had held her own when he'd dragged her along on an adventure back in July, and she still wore Trainee blacks.  Maybe it wouldn't hurt to let this one tag along.

He gave the kid a one-shouldered shrug in response, letting him take from that what he would, and returned his attention to Tulojow with laser focus.

"Aye," he said shortly.  "I think so.  Not an injury  -- it's past that."  His expression hardened, almost imperceptibly.  "But we could use you to take a look."

Even with Bagnold's usually single-note demeanor, Tulojow could see the gravity of whatever situation had brought him here etched across his expression.  Promptly, Tulojow extended a hand and waved it in her great nephew's direction, a wordless set of instructions that, thanks to past experience, the younger man picked up on immediately.  Migs pushed himself to his feet and held his hand out to give the older witch added leverage as she creakily stood up. 

"Well, Kurby," Tulojow offered.  "That sounds rather ominous.  Why don't you come along," she offered Migs, patting him on the shoulder.  If Kurby didn't have an opinion to express, Tulojow was happy to provide hers.  "Could be an interesting learning experience." 

Migs started to reach for the curved wooden cane but redirected his reach with a shake of her head.  If they were, indeed, headed all the way to the WCU at the end of the day, then she needed more then the cane.  Migs grabbed the levitating skateboard from the corner of the office and Tulojow stepped up and gestured for Kurby to lead the way back to the one who was beyond injuries. 

"This is my nephew, Leonard," she offered in quick introductions. 

"It's Migs," the young man correct. 

"Any background on this case?" Tulojow asked as they reached the lifts and rattled towards Level 4.

Kurby had barely acknowledged the introduction.  He'd stayed facing forward as they'd boarded  onto the lift, only his fingers moving as he fidgeted with the silver chain that hung from his belt.

At the Healer's question, his eyes flicked over to her.  His jaw tensed for a moment, and then he shifted his gaze to face forward again.

"Some idiot got mauled this afternoon," he said shortly.  "Somewhere south of Edinburgh.  Nobody saw it happen, but the Healer who got called in when they found the body thought it looked enough like a werewolf attack to let us know, so they brought it here."

It was a short ride to Level Four.  The lift gave a shudder as it stopped, and then the door began to retracted.  As it was on any full moon, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was bustling with activity, as werewolves came to check themselves into Ministry supervision and the harried employees of the Werewolf Wing scurried to get them all safely into their appointed cells before the full moon rose.

Kurby's expression tightened, and he looked over to meet Tulojow's eyes again.  "I want to know what the hell attacked him before I send any of my team out there tonight."  The words came out sounding hard and fierce, though he spoke too quietly for anyone but Tulojow and Migs to hear.  "I'm not walkin' us into another bleedin' Direwolf disaster without knowin' what we're up against."

"Werewolf attack?" 

It didn't take a genius to work through the details and realize there were only two logical explanations.  As Tulojow followed off the lift, with Leonard following a few steps behind, she arched an eyebrow in Kurby's direction and slowly shook her head. 

Either someone had misidentified the cause of death or they were dealing with another direwolf.  A conclusion Kurby had, obviously, already come to.  As they weaved their way through the milling bodies of Level 4, Tulojow gestured for Leonard to catch up to her.  "What indications might you look for to differentiate between a werewolf bite and a bite from a more mundane beast, such as a wolf or dog?"  She posed the question in a lowered voice, similar to Kurby's. 

As they stepped through the door into the room where the covered body lay, Tulojow tagged on: "while we're at it, could you also differentiate the damage from a werewolf and a skinwalker?  Ponder it." 

She left her cousin to do just that and turned her attention back to Kurby, stepping off the floating skateboard and leaving it propped against the wall. 

"Do we know anything about the victim?"  Tulojow asked as they approached the covered body.  "Age?  Magical classification?  Any previous healing records available?" 

M - Descriptions of gore and violence.

There were already one other person in the room with the corpse: a young woman clad in the dark leather and silver of the Werewolf Capture Unit.  She looked to be in her early twenties, with dark eyes and black hair pulled back in a braid.  She straightened as the others entered, her attention first focusing on Kurby, and then shifting to regard the other two unfamiliar figures as they stepped inside.

"Seems like he was a former Azkaban inmate," Kurby said brusquely, as he stepped over to the table.  Ex-Azzies, to many, were seen as the lowest of the low.  Under normal circumstances, the Ministry of Magic would hardly be moved by one's death, short of verifying that departing the mortal coil was the reason why the former inmate had missed a mandatory check-in.

He pulled back the sheet without circumstance, exposing the dead body.

The dead man stared upwards, his eyes glassy.  Whatever had attacked him had not been gentle.  His throat had been torn open, blood splattered outward.  There were other signs of mauling on the man's body as well: his stomach ripped into, wounds on his limbs.  The only saving grace was that there wasn't any smell -- clearly the result of an odor-warding charm.

"They think they identified him by the tattoos that you can still see," the other Capture Unit member spoke up.  She pointed to them -- across one shoulder, still visible under the caked blood, was what looked to be a green skull surrounded by a series of inked runes.  "He was supposed to have a check-in with his parole officer today, but he never showed up." 

"He was livin' in a Bridge House in London."  Kurby had paced a step back, crossing his arms.  "Supposedly he checked in last night.  No wand.  No idea how he got all the way up to Scotland."

Tulojow stepped down from the hovering, wheel-less skateboard just outside the door and propped it against the outside wall before stepping inside.  Once inside, she smiled warmly at the young witch who had been babysitting the unfortunate soul on the table.  Tulojow limped across the room and introduced herself and her nephew to the young witch, Stacey, though Tulojow was aware that Leonard's attention had been thoroughly captured by the corpse. 

"Seems like he was a former Azkaban inmate."

"What a shame," Tulojow said, quietly, with a shake of her head as she approached the sheet-draped table.  She ignored both the slight eyeroll her nephew met her comment with and the distinct pallor that replaced Leonard's smugness as Kurby revealed the victim.  The sight of a potential werewolf mauling was enough to unsettle even newly-graduated Aurors, let alone trainees.  But, it was a valuable learning lesson. 

"So, checked in in London last night and found like this this morning near Edinburgh." Tulojow repeated, with a nod of her head.  She shrugged off her outer cloak and handed it to Stacey before casting small, impermeable shielding charms on both hands up to the elbow.  After casting one more quick spell to conjure a stool next to the table, she tucked the wand behind her ear and leaned over the body to inspect the wounds more closely.  "Do we know who found the body and have we verified they wouldn't have been the sort to take a wand off of ... does our victim have a name?" 

Assuming the unfortunate soul who'd stumbled across this scene hadn't helped himself to a free wand, the lack of a wand eliminated the possibility of independent apparition.  "Have his clothes been checked for evidence of floo powder?" Tulojow asked as she brushed her fingers through the victim's hair and watched for any green powder to settle on the white table beneath the body. 

Dried blood caked the body's upper torso and extremities from the bite marks but the body was, largely, unmarred from the waist down.  "Any thoughts?" Tulojow directed towards her nephew as she gave the wounds a once over before pulling a tray of supplies towards her.  She reached for a bottle of cleansing potion before glancing up to Stacey and Kurby.  "Have you completed your preliminary evaluations and documentations?" she asked, looking for verification that she was free to investigate the body more closely and alter surface evidence.

"Harley Gibbon," Stacey Li replied.  She wrinkled her nose at the body, seeming casually uncaring about the gore before them.  "It was a married couple who found him -- they were out riding.  The MLE Patrol is supposed to be interviewing them, but we know how quick they are about these things, don't we?"

Kurby kept his eyes trained on Tulojow, his jaw set as she went methodically about her work.  Once an Auror, always an Auror.  Part of him wanted to snap at the Healer that he didn't give a bleeding damn how the dead man had gotten there, so long as he found out what had managed to tear out his throat.  But the werewolf hunter knew that impatience wasn't going to get him the answers he wanted or needed, and so he kept his mouth firmly pressed shut.

At Tulojow's final question, he glanced at Li for confirmation.  The young witch gave a half shrug in reply, which he took as affirmation enough.

"Yeah, go ahead," he told the Healer shortly.  There was no clock here, but he could feel the seconds ticking down.  Less than an hour to moonrise.  If they didn't get a semblance of answers soon, they were going to have to make decisions without them.

Once given the go-ahead, Tulojow set to work examining the wounds, taking samples and making notes.  "There are two key differentials between a generic wolf bite and a werewolf - or direwolf, as they are almost identical, anatomically."  Behaviorally, practically, they were very different.  But, as far as physical form was concerned, they were the same beast.  Time of death was one of the key factors that separated direwolves and werewolves.   

"Wolves use their canine teeth to grab and hold onto their targets - so, punctures and some rip damage from shaking tend to be the predominant injury."  There were exceptions of course; they would use their full mouth in defensive bites but those, typically, only occurred because someone was an idiot and didn't back off.  Usually, the first bite was sufficient to get the message across so those very rarely resulted in fatalities or even maulings.  "Werewolves use their arms to hold, so their resulting injuries use the whole mouth - and tearing is much more prevalent."

She glanced up at her nephew to verify if he was still following before turning back to her work.  "Secondly, dentition is an important clue.  Canines have six incisors and two canines in each arcade.  Primates have four incisors and two canines - and the pattern holds true after transformation.  Even if tooth shape changes, number of teeth do not." 

Of course, the tearing nature of werewolf wounds often masked dentition, but secondary wounds sometimes revealed more.  She scraped some tissue samples from around the neck injuries into a few small flasks before taking a closer look at the, comparatively, lighter defensive injuries on the hands and arms. 

Finally, she looked up at Kurby.  "Tissue damage is severe enough that gross examination isn't conclusive one way or the other.  I'm reluctant to call werewolf but nothing about this suggests wolf.  I'll know definitively when I run the samples, but I can't rule out a werewolf."

The Healer started her examination, narrating for her nephew as she did so.   The older witch never missed an opportunity to teach.  Kurby shifted his weight to first one foot, then the other, making minimal effort not to look too impatient.  Urging her to hurry up wasn't going to get them to answers any more quickly, and it stood a chance of losing him any small bit of goodwill in the process.

In the process, the Healer had apparently picked up another student.  Li had kept her eyes fixed on the entire process, watching curiously as Tulojow went about her examination.  Kurby nearly rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything.  If the kid wanted to learn a thing or two about examining dead bodies, at least it might save them the trouble of having to call in a Healer in the future.

Finally, Nagde spoke.  "I'm reluctant to call werewolf, but..."

Kurby's jaw tightened. 

Damned if they did, damned if they didn't.  Every month, the Werewolf Capture Unit carefully planned out its patrols, trying to balance likely spots of suspected werewolf activity with protecting highly-trafficked areas.  If they needed to reassign a team to southern Scotland, it meant pulling them away from somewhere else.  And if this was a suspected direwolf, he'd have to pull more than just one team.

"How long'll that take?"  His words were clipped.  Whatever the answer was, it was likely too long for his purposes.  They were going to have to make decisions based on the little they knew now -- which meant quickly coming up with a plan to reassign the night's patrol.