“I see...” Alcuin looked solemn at the thought of something as abstract as a memory being the only thing that stood between a werewolf and their humanity. It was a very romantic notion – as his previous master had taught him – but a potentially frightening one, too. Scott had been driven away from his settlement when they discovered that he had been turned and he had already admitted that he knew little enough of the pack to have formed such a bond. The only people left were his lover and his childhood friend – and at least one of them was a tangled mess of love and heartbreak.
“If you cannot remember who you are,” he frowned. “You succumb to what you are.”