Monday 15th September, about 10pm, Sherwood Forest

“S’this way, boss.” Peter Harfooey, on his final night in the world, rose from his crouching position where he’d been studying a set of werewolf tracks leading into the forest. Harfooey had been tracking this werewolf the previous full moon but to no avail. Yet, habitually, a wolf’s hunting grounds tended to be similar each full moon. This month, Bruce had chosen to team up with the slightly younger werewolf hunter, bringing Kurby Bagnold and Gervaise Bellingham along for the ride. Bagnold was a stalwart in the WCU, and a close friend. Bruce had been involved in training the wizard when he’d arrived as a green recruit and now he was a formidable hunter. Bellingham? He may have been a nervous killjoy, but he knew his job. Tonight, would be, as far as Bruce presumed, a simple capture and detain. One wolf, four hunters, easy work.

“We’ll follow your lead, Pete.” Bruce Ballentyne quietly directed. She was dressed in her usual get up for the full moon. Her shorts and boots, of course, were a standard, but she wore a baggy white shirt topped with her favourite green canvas jacket that was a little too large and the baggy sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Wrapped around her hands were silver rings and bangles. Dangling from the pocket of her beige cargo shorts was a thick silver chain. Her wand was out, removed from the holster, and her wild red hair had been pulled into a scruffy ponytail atop her head.

Into the woods, the four hunters went, stepping carefully so as not to make much noise. As a September night, the air was cool but the sky was clear, light from the full moon bathing the clearing in which they’d stood. As they started to move beneath the mass of trees, the light slowly died and it was taking a few moments to adjust. No lumos. Lumos alerted the wolves to their presence. But, after a short while, the eyes adjusted naturally to the dim lighting.

Abruptly, the group froze in their advances as, in the near distance, there was a shock of movement, darting through the trees. Harfooey indicated with a hand gesture that they were to follow. Bruce spared a quick scan to Kurby and indicated that he should flag the wolf from the other side. They’d already discussed tactics, it had all been planned out. 4 experienced hunters. What could go wrong?

Bruce didn’t sense the other pairs of eyes on her team.

The night was quiet and the air was clear, and there could have been nothing in the woods tonight except for them and their prey.  Kurby had broken slightly away from the group as they'd started through the forest, moving slightly south of them as he paralleled their course.  It wasn't that he didn't trust Harfooey, not really, but his coworker and teammate could be a slightly lazy tracker.  If a 'wolf was going to come at them from an unexpected direction, he wanted enough distance between himself and the rest of the team that they didn't all end up within striking distance at once.

It had been a quiet night so far -- almost too quiet, with none of the usual sounds of the forest joining together in a quiet after-dark symphony.  Without a doubt, there was something else out and about in the woods tonight, putting the usual nocturnal creatures on edge. 

Something off to his right caught his eye -- a strange break in the bushes, an interruption of the forest's normal pattern where there shouldn't have been one -- but just as he paused to take a closer look at it, there was a flash of movement up ahead that caught the whole team's attention.  Kurby went still, his eyes flicking over to find Bruce in the darkness.  At her signal, he silently pulled the silver chainmail hood up over his head, checked the metal chain on his belt, and broke off away from the others to circle around the werewolf.

It was a medium-sized monster by the sound of it.  Despite its superior senses, the creature didn't appear to have noticed them yet, even though Kurby was close enough to see flashes of it between the trees.  It appeared to be limping, letting out a little whine every so often and favoring its rear back leg as it wound its way through the forest.

Kurby frowned, brows furrowing, as he stilled his movement and squinted at it through the darkness.  The tracks that they'd located earlier hadn't shown any evidence of a limp.  Perhaps the werewolf had recently injured itself; in the absence of prey, it wasn't unusual for a transformed lycanthrope to turn its fury on itself if it couldn't find something else to hunt.

At this point, with how close they were, it wouldn't be possible to signal the rest of the team that something was off without alerting the 'wolf that they were there.  Silently, the werewolf hunter began to make a slightly larger circle, taking care to stay low to the ground and out of sight of the werewolf.  Whatever was going on with it, the best thing he could do was to get into position to flank it and stay ready for his teammates' move. 

The canopy of trees blocked much of the moonlight from breaking through, casting eerie shadows over the uneven ground, and the faces of the WCU team members. Through the trees, Bruce struggled now to see Bagnold as he made his way around, taking a different angle in order for them to ambush the beast from all sides. As usual, the Head of the WCU could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, reminding her of the dangers and excitement of her career choice. Rather sardonically, the full moon was always the highlight of the work month. They spent weeks recovering from one, preparing and planning for the next. For this moment. For the thrill of the hunt.

“He’s whimperin’ boss.” Harfooey pointed out, scanning back to Bruce who was cautiously following. “Hurt.”

“Easy catch.” Bellingham replied, catching an unimpressed look from his boss. Rule number one, never underestimate a werewolf. Even the injured ones would easily rip out your throat given the opportunity.

Clearly settling his nerves somewhat, Harfooey sped up his pace to close in on the wolf. Bruce chose to circle around silently.

*crunch*

In the close distance, the direction she’d seen Harfooey go, a branch clearly cracked under foot. In the silence of the forest, the sound seemed to echo. Bruce, wand up, scanned around. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, loud and quick. She could hear her own breath in the stillness.

Until the yell of anguish and fear came. Harfooey was down, screaming in agony. Bruce’s first instinct was to run towards the sound, firing green sparks in to the air as she did. Whatever the state of Harfooey when she got there, they would need a healer.

Through the trees, Bruce could see the wolf, on all fours over her teammate, jaws ripping into his flesh.

“CONCUSSO!” She screamed, sending a powerful shockwave which knocked the wolf back and off its feet. “INFLIN-”

Before Bruce had a chance to finish her next curse, she was winded, thrown sideward into a nearby tree. Her wand flew from her grip and a set of heavy claws raked over her stomach, dragging her to the forest floor. An involuntary yell of pain flew from her mouth as she grasped for the chains from her pocket. There was blood. So much blood. She threw the chains up, wrapped them around the wolf’s neck, but the beast had her pinned down.

In terror, Ballentyne kicked out, her left boot hitting the beast hard in the chest but this only seemed to anger it. She let out an unholy cry as she felt teeth sinking into her thigh.

He could hear the werewolf whimpering up ahead, but he still hadn’t gotten a clear look at it through the trees.  But something about this whole misadventure still felt off.  The first time he’d gotten a glimpse of the werewolf, he would have sworn it was favoring its right front leg.  But now, as he paused in the deep shadows under a tall oak tree and caught sight of it again, it looked as if it was keeping its weight off its left side instead.

Kurby went still, sharp and alert.  But before he could send a signal to his Capture Unit teammates, before he could call out or react at all, an unmistakeable crunch came from the direction of the other hunters.

The werewolf whirled and charged into the brush, any hint of its injury instantly gone.

An instant later, there was a scream.  Harfooey.  In the heat of it, Kurby almost missed the crashing through the brush behind him.  He spun on his heel, vanishing with a crack just as a second werewolf barreled out of the woods and charged into the spot where he’d just been standing.

He reappeared a half instant later, several meters away.  The werewolf spun in a tight circle, snarling and snapping, until it caught sight of him again.  Teeth bared, it charged towards him, intent on sinking them into his flesh.

He could hear someone shouting spells, casting the Blasting Curse, but it all sounded very distant, as if a vast chasm had cut him off from the rest of the woods.  All that mattered here and now was him and the wolf.

Twisting his wand, Kurby instinctively called up a shield spell.  The werewolf slammed into it a split second later, rebounding back a few steps as the magical shield shattered into a cloud of glittering shards.  But those few seconds were all he needed.  Kurby jerked his wand upwards, and heavy tree roots burst from the ground, wrapping around the werewolf like wooden vines as they slammed it back into the oak tree behind it.

A wooden prison like that wouldn’t hold a furious werewolf for very long, but now he could hear Ballentyne screaming.  Kurby spun and apparated again, this time into the heart of the fire.

The sharp, metallic smell of blood hit his senses first.  Two more werewolves.  Both in a blood fury, tearing into what were presumably his teammates.  Bellingham was attempting to drive off the farther one, but the second, larger, closer werewolf was standing over Ballentyne, digging into their leader’s leg with furious intent.

There wasn’t time to think.  Getting the werewolf’s attention would take more than snaring it with a silver chain, and if he tried to hit it with a Blasting Curse, he risked hitting Bruce, too. 

He grabbed for the silver knife in his boot, and then vanished with a crack, this time reappearing on the monster’s back.  Digging his knees into its sides to hold on, he leaned forwards and drove the knife into the side of its face before it could react.

It was luck more than anything else that he managed to connect.  The werewolf let out a horrendous yowl of pain and  stumbled back, releasing Bruce as it clawed at the knife in its eye socket.  But with the sudden, twisting movement, Kurby lost his precarious grip on its fur.  With a yelp, the werewolf hunter tumbled to the ground, landing hard enough on the forest floor to momentarily knock the wind out of him.

At St. Mungo's Hospital...

Athena Marrowbone, a Healer on the Creature Injuries Floor, had the full moon shift. St. Mungo's always stuck a few more wands on duty that time of the month just in case. And it wasn't a babysitting gig either - this year had been bad for werewolves. Way more bites, way more curses, and more deaths than anyone wanted to say. Everyone had gotten refreshers on field healing.

Tonight, they already had their hands full. A night janitor heading into work on a broom had gotten lax and stopped to take a piss on the side of a road in Devonshire. The world couldn't just stop because of a full moon and it was just a fact of life to take precautions. But it was so easy to get complacent. It would only take a second.

But it only takes a second. He'd survive, but it wasn't clear yet if he'd be cursed. Athena was cleaning the blood off her hands when the call came out.

"Sawbones! Renze! We've got green sparks! Nottinghamshire!"

Sherwood Forest ...

Athena and Renze ran ran headlong down the path, their wands lit up green. The sparks that had summoned them were still twinkling faintly above them - it wasn't much, but it was enough to keep them moving in the right direction. They heard the melee before they arrived at the scene. Screams in the night.

Renze faltered and Athena had to grab him by the shirt. "No freezing on me now," she hissed, just as scared as he was. There was an active attack in progress. Injuries and blood and gore she could handle, she could compartmentalize witches and wizards wailing on a table. But no sane person could just laugh through a blood bath like the one they saw.

She and Renze, they were healers not fighters, but they'd been trained enough to stay alive.

In unison they fired off twin bolts of Concusso.

Sharp teeth sank into the flesh of her leg and Bruce was screaming in agony. Every nerve was alive and screaming out in pain. Her movements were panicked, terrified. The boot from her good leg smacking into the wolf’s face did nothing. Hot tears were streaming down her face and her hands were gripping the chains tightly, desperately trying to strangle the beast enough for it to loosen its jaw.

After what felt like a lifetime, but was only several seconds, the wolf let out an atrocious howl and flew back, it’s teeth pulling out of her flesh, ripping muscle with it. The sound that came from Bruce’s throat was a horrendous wail as her leg erupted in more pain.

With the darkness and the blur caused by tears, it was almost impossible to see Bagnold having taken to the wolf’s back and jabbed a knife in its face. Bruce, her breathing extremely shallow, tried to roll onto her side to look for her wand, but her body wouldn’t obey. She stretched her fingers out, willing her wand back to her grasp. Nothing. She felt cold and wet, weak.

In the distance, she could hear spells being fired off, but she could hear nothing coming now from the wizard she’d tried to save. Not even a whimper.

Despite her efforts, Bruce felt her eyes closing.

He hit the ground with a hard thud, and for an instant, the world seemed to slow around him.  Somewhere, the werewolf was letting out a terrible scream, rearing back at the sudden, intense pain in its eye.  Beyond it, he could hear Bellingham shouting his name in a high-pitched, desperate voice, as twin bolts of red light streaked over his head in slow motion, hitting the werewolf squarely in the shoulders and knocking it back.

But all he could see was Bruce.  Crumpled.  No longer screaming.  She looked more broken than he'd ever seen her before.  Even in the dim light from the full moon, there was no mistaking the blood that was pooling all around her, pouring out of the wound on her leg and creeping up her beige cargo shorts.

“BAGNOLD!” he heard Bellingham shout again, and he jerked himself out of it with a snarl.  There were werewolves here, and they were under attack.  He couldn’t afford to let himself focus on any of the tragedy that was unfolding all around them.

The red Concusso blasts had come from two lime-robed figures, new to the scene.  Even on a moonlit night, there was no mistaking the build of Athena Marrowbone from the Creature Injuries ward.  Kurby didn’t know how the hell they’d gotten here so quickly -- Bruce or Bellingham must have had the wherewithal to fire off green sparks once Harfooey had gotten hit -- but he'd never been so glad to see her in his life.

“We have two down!” he growled at them through clenched teeth as he scrambled back to his feet.  The werewolf that had been tearing into Bruce had been knocked a few yards away now, still howling and writhing in pain as it clawed at the knife in its eye, but that wouldn’t last long.  He had to deal with it, and then get to Bellingham and Harfooey.

“Help her!” he snapped at the two healers, bracing himself as her turned to face the werewolf.

It was Bagnold and Bellingham. They'd both been occasional visitors to her ward either as patients or ambulance. Bagnold shouted for aid. The screams revealed the location of a third hunter. Athena's eyes found Ballentyne and the utter mess that was her lower half, all leaking and peicey among the dark wet foliage. Bruce Ballentyne, oh Merlin no. Athena rushed over and Renze followed. As soon as she arrived at Ballentyne's side and could see the damage better, the fear quieted. She was taking inventory, calculating, evaluating.

"Left leg's a beaut - mauled to hell. Lacerations to the abdomen. Can't tell if it's bites or claws." Sawbones entered a serene steadiness as her most innate training took over. It was easy to be calm when your hands knew what to do, even with werewolves hunting them.

She could hear Renze shouting to the other two WCU, were there any other injured, anyone else they needed to evacuate. But all the other activity in the trees was drowned out. Athena detached from the chaos and focused on her patient, and further than that, the injuries. She had to put it out of her mind that this was Bruce Ballentyne. This was a werewolf mauling and she knew exactly what to do.

Ballentyne wasn't conscious and she was bleeding heavily. "Hold on, love..." she said. "I got ye."

"Staima!"[1] The twinkling light of the spell illuminated the area, raw, ripped and glistening. In seconds the flow of blood stemmed making it easier for Sawbones to see the damage. She cast the same spell on Bruce's stomach. She had to get her halfway stable so she'd survive Apparition with all her limbs.

Athena wanted very much to get the wounds closed and any broken bones mended, but she couldn't - not yet. Not without a thorough cleaning, not without determining if it was teeth or claws, not without as much curse-cleansing as she could muster.

With the bleeding stopped, Athena had a second to put her head up. "Bagnold! I need to get her out of here!"

She needed to know he had it under control. She needed to know where Renze was.

1.	Bloodflow Charm

A jerk of his wand, and a rush of roots and brambles exploded upwards out of the ground, engulfing the werewolf like a tidal wave.  The rush of wooden vines rolled over the creature, wrapping around its limbs as they slammed it into the nearest tree.

The entanglements wouldn't hold it for long.  The monster was mad with pain and fury, and even now, it howled and twisted, causing the makeshift wooden bindings to begin to splinter and crack.  Kurby knew they needed to end this quickly.  There was at least one more loose werewolf to deal with, and he had no idea if the third 'wolf that had attacked him was still bound against the oak tree where he'd left it. 

The second healer, Renze, was shouting at him, asking if there were any other victims, if anyone else was down.   Kurby clenched his teeth, frustrated, as he sent a bolt of silver electricity racing at the werewolf to momentarily stun it.  What the bleeding hell was he supposed to do?  Walk the panicked healer through the scene of the attack while simultaneously holding three werewolves at bay with his off-wand hand?

"What the hell do you think?!" he shouted back at the healer, and then vanished with a crack, reappearing halfway across the clearing close to where Bellingham's shout had come from.  "I don't have time to do your bleedin' job for you!  Use your goddamned eyes and --"

Something large and furry rushed at him in a fit of snarling and snapping teeth.  Kurby cut himself off with a yelp as he Apparated a second time, this time reappearing a few feet away.  Snarling with frustration, he hit the second werewolf with a Concusso blast hard enough to drive it partially into the ground.

To hell with all of this.  He could practically picture Covadonga Gertrudis's disapproving expression when he showed up back at the Ministry with three smoking werewolf pelts, but at this point, he didn't even care.  There was no goddamned way he was letting these things get the better of them.  The monsters had already taken down two of their team; if he and Bellingham couldn't safely restrain them, he'd damned well take them all with him if he had to.

A silver wire burst out of the night and began to wrap itself around the stunned werewolf that was struggling to pick itself up again.  Somewhere to his right, he caught a flash of Bellingham between the trees.  The older wizard's gray face was set in concentration as he whipped his wand about, directing the wire to dance and bind the creature even as it began to twist and snap at its magical constraints. 

But before he could even think about stepping in to help his teammate, there was a cracking sound behind them both.  Kurby glanced quickly over his shoulder: the now one-eyed werewolf that had attacked Bruce was on the verge of breaking out of its wooden bonds, howling and snarling as it tried to fight its way free.

Bleeding hell.  Kurby let loose with a fluent string of swears that would have probably gotten him written up if he'd employed any of them in the office and vanished again with a crack, reappearing an instant later a few feet away from the entrapped werewolf, his silver chain in hand. 

Over the fury of it, he heard Marrowbone shouting his name.

"I need to get her out of here!"

"Go!" the werewolf hunter fired back without hesitation.  He snapped the silver chain to wrap it around the creature's neck, and then yanked hard on it, using his body weight to throw the werewolf off-balance.

"Petrificus dimidietas!" Marrowbone didn't need more from Bagnold so immediately cast a partial paralysis spell upon Ballentyne. She wouldn't be able to move anything from the waist down, wouldn't be able to jostle her guts or torn up leg, and the chances of splinching were greatly reduced. Ballentyne was out cold, but only for now.

"Renze! We're out!"

Renze was as trained as she was. She had to trust he'd get to the other.

Athena, a mightily strong witch that she was, hefted Ballentyne up off her back enough so Athena could take a knee beside her. With a crack of her wand, she Apparated them to St. Mungo's.

---

"Bruce Ballentyne, WCU. Werewolf attack in the field. Lacerations to the abdomen and left leg. I've got breaks, I've got bleeding. Not much leg left, but I think the great beastie missed her intestines."

Athena was met by two more healers and three nurses in the First Floor reception alcove. Together they levitated Ballentyne directly to a room prepped for exactly something like this.

"Bite or claws, Marrowbone? Bite or claws?" asked another as they all got to work.  It was the thousand galleon question. Claws didn't carry the curse - it had to be a bite. You prayed for a mauling, but one good nip and it was time to buy a lunar calendar.

The werewolf shift knew what to do. The paralysis spell was removed, and off came Ballentyne's clothes in favor of a clean gown. Out came wands with spells to mend flesh and stop bleeding, onto Ballentyne's skin went runes to attempt to stymie the curse from killing her outright. Potions were administered to the unconscious witch, potions for pain, potions for calm.

"Bit of both, bit of both," Athena said shaking her head as she donned protective robes and gloves. In the harsh light of the hospital, the damage was laid shockingly bare. There was little to no chance of saving Ballentyne's leg even if she survived the curse.

But no amount of gore and destruction ever waylaid Athena Marrowbone. "At 'em, then, lads. Let's pull this one out of the meat grinder, yea?"

---

It felt like an eternity had gone by since they'd been tracking the werewolf in the forest, since Peter Harfooey had pointed out the tracks and Bruce Ballentyne had nodded for Kurby to flank their target from the side, but it had barely been an hour.  It had taken too long to get the three werewolves secured, and then another lifetime after that to wait for a backup team to arrive and start arranging for the beasts' transport to the Ministry.  If Bellingham and the second Healer hadn't been there, Kurby would have half-considered saving them all the trouble and slitting the monsters' throats himself.

Peter Harfooey was dead.  They hadn't needed Renze to render that judgement when the situation had finally calmed down and he and Bellingham had had a chance to assess their teammate's fate.   Harfooey was dead, and Kurby had watched the second werewolf tear mercilessly into Ballentyne, ripping into left leg and shredding her flesh with its teeth.  He'd played it over and over again in his head.  There was only one outcome that could result from a bite like that in a werewolf attack.

But he couldn't face the rest of their team without knowing for sure.

He'd waited until their backups had arrived and the werewolves had all been secured before apparating back to the Ministry.  There, he'd shed his silver chainmail, dumping it at his desk, and then was off again to St. Mungo's.   

A trainee Healer had made the mistake of trying to intercept him at the reception alcove on the first floor.  The interruption hadn't lasted long; he'd left the kid practically in tears as he'd stalked off, remorseless and fuming.   Jaw set, the werewolf hunter had made his way to the Creatures Injury ward, his icy expression daring anyone else to try and stop him. 

He had to know.  Kurby repeated that mandate in his head over and over again as he followed the familiar path to the section of the ward where lycanthropic injuries were usually treated.  In all his time with the Werewolf Capture Unit, in all of his thirteen years there, they'd never had their leader go down like this before.  He had to know for certain what had happened to Bruce so that he could set the rest of everything else into motion. 

It was getting late, and aside from the select area of the Creature Injuries ward, the corridors at St. Mungo's were mostly empty.  He spotted Athena Marrowbone as he rounded the last corner, looking harried and somber, but with a sort of bleary exhilaration about her as she spoke with another Healer in the hallway.

The werewolf hunter stopped short, his mouth pressed tightly shut and his stance as tense as if he were about to launch into battle again. He regarded the Healer silently, brows knitting in wordless inquiry as he caught her gaze.

"If bed nine is stable, move them to recovery. I want that room. Still a few hours till sunrise," Marrowbone was telling Watanabe. Movement caught her eye and she looked past to see Kurby Bagnold dead on his feet.  Athena clapped her colleague on the shoulder to send her off and then moved down to meet Bagnold. She was a head taller than he was and in the light and smooth stone of the hospital it was easier to see. Not like in the woods.

"Kurby."

As she came up to him, her mouth was pragmatic and pinched at a corner. There was blood on her uniform, not something they wanted visitors to see. But the werewolf capture unit, they weren't visitors on nights like this.

"We're trying to get in touch with her wife," Athena started putting her hands in her pocket. He wanted an update, that was clear enough. But he wasn't family. There were rules. He'd cleaned up a little, but she made a show of leaning to the side to look him over a little, looking for signs he'd been seen by a healer.

"Have tha been checked out, yet? I want someone to have a look at you."

Kurby flicked his gaze upwards, though he kept his mouth firmly shut.  With the edges of exhaustion settling in, he was too tired to get into an argument about whether or not he needed to see a Healer, but he also didn't have time to waste on this nonsense.  Getting mauled by a werewolf wasn't exactly something that one just happened to miss in a rush of adrenaline.

The comment about getting in touch with Bruce's wife could go either way.  There was an uncertain edge to his expression as he eyed Marrowbone, trying to get a sense of her mood. 

"Athena, I need to know what the hell to tell the rest of our team when they start reportin' in."  Kurby swallowed hard, dark eyes uneasy as they settled on her.  "Is she alive?"

Athena's shoulders fell and her face relaxed. Having spent the last hour securing that life on this side of the veil the alternative hadn't crossed the healer's mind.

"Oh, aye. I ought've led with that."

But that was where the relief ended. For a moment, Athena wrestled with her ethics. That is all the update Bagnold was allowed to get right now, but just because he wasn't blood didn't mean the WCU weren't as close-knit as any family. Scupper it.

Athena put her hand on his shoulder and moved him around to an alcove. Her expression sombered.

"Kurby, she's alive but the curse got in. We did everything we could, but there was nought to be done."

It was a tragedy. As long as they'd spent trying to save a life and a leg and feeling the victory that came with succeeding, it was hard to face that somehow it didn't matter. Ballentyne had been doomed before they'd got to the forest. They'd held out hope until tests confirmed, but one look at that leg was story enough.

She'd had to have this talk twice before, but never with WCU.

The second, harder question would have stuck in his throat.  Marrowbone ushered him to the side regardless, taking pity on him having to ask it.

He'd known the answer before he'd come here, but hearing the words out loud still hit like a punch to the gut.  Kurby squeezed his eyes shut; a beat later, he took a slow, steadying breath. 

Of all of them, Bruce Ballentyne had always been the most untouchable.  She'd been at the job longer than anyone, and her cheerful bravado and hard-nosed leadership was the glue that knit the Capture Unit together.  He'd griped at her plenty of times about being more careful, about not wearing those goddamned cargo shorts when they were out fighting monsters, but she'd always fired right back at him and he'd never really taken his own complaints seriously.  Even as other comrades had fallen around them, Bruce had seemed invincible.

Everything had changed in an instant.  It always did.  He'd noticed the werewolf acting strangely, and he'd kept his damned mouth shut.  Mere seconds had passed, and then it had been too late.

There were things that needed to happen now before he could afford to let himself start replaying the mistakes he'd made that evening.  Kurby swallowed past the knot in his throat and forced himself to open his eyes.  At least dealing with the immediate situation gave him something to ground himself with, something necessary to focus on besides the anger and despair and helplessness that were starting to roil inside him.

"Thanks," he said, looking back at the Healer at last.  Zora usually stayed at home with their daughter during the full moons, but Waverly would have been back at Hogwarts now, and an Auror's job was unpredictable.  "You need me to send a patronus to her wife?"