About three days later, Asher, one of our youngest, starts acting strange. He starts to convey no emotion at any time; to randomly yell at either his brothers or sisters over basically nothing; to exclaim that he can 'see things' or 'hear things' that none of the rest of us can see or hear.

While Chas would rather have nary a thing to do with Asher, the other cubs, Chandria and I care about his... behaviors, for lack of a better word. At some point in the afternoon, Chas decides to care and asks his younger brother about it. "So... why did you freak out earlier, Ash?" Asher reels on his older brother. "You know what, Chas? Shut up! That's right; I said 'shut up'!"

Later that night, when the cubs are all in bed, Chandria and I make our way to a nearby Portal; though I hate even the slightest thought of it, I must trust the vampires to help me. I must know what is wrong with my son.

As I knock on the door of the man I despise the most, I can't help but feel that I am confusing myself about whom I should trust and the ties I should keep. And for what; so that I can say 'hey, my son is an idiot'? No; there is something deeper here, I think.

I know that Chandria wouldn't allow this kind of thing to happen; especially not to one of her own cubs. As I suspect, it is not Cyrus that answers the door, but a small brown-haired, red-eyed boy clad in jumper-style pyjamas. "Who are you?" he asks me. I must retain my composure if I am to answer.

"My name is Gildren Longfellow, and this is my wife, Chandria. May we come in, little one?" The boy nods and opens the door further, then runs over to the woman perched on the settee in the lounge; that must be Ophelia. If you wonder why I didn't Shift this time around, it's because I feel it is more polite to stay in human form right now.

As Chandria and I suspect, Cyrus comes out of the room he often uses as his clinic; one of his little ones must have caught something recently."Pardon my tardiness, Gildren, but I am afraid that my eldest, Patrik, has caught... lycan flu. What do you need?"

"I need you to diagnose my son, Asher; he's been acting strange lately." Cyrus retrieves a nootepad from his pocket and

"How has he been acting strange?"

"He's been yeling at his siblings, claiming we're all out to get him, and he told my eldest son, Chas, to shut up, when Chas simply asked why he freaked out." Cyrus raises a hand to his chin and muses. "Sounds like schizophrenia to me." By now, the woman has risen from her perch, and has joined us, the small boy who answered the door following her like a puppy (no pun intended; I am a werewolf, for God's sake!).

The woman beckons us to come in. Cyrus wanders over to the side table and places his glasses on his nose after picking them up. "Give it a week and see if he gets better by then; if not, I recommend putting him in an institution, where no one can get hurt. As a doctor, I recommend doing what is best for not only the boy, but the six of you as well."