Despite the sticky summer air, I felt chilled as I faced my father. He took a pointed glance around at the carnage then looked back at me, gray eyes as hard and flat as gun metal as they searched my face.
"You okay?"
I heard what he was really asking. Are you feeling wolfish? Are you going to change?
I thought back to my mad dash toward the scent of blood. The temporary loss of control before I pulled myself together again. "Yes, sir, I'm fine."