“I’ve been here, Vic, for a long time. Two birthdays have passed here, and I’m approaching a third. See…” He paused with a sigh, “Before George took over the village, it was run by another. By Rita Skeeter, and awful evil lady who constantly played with us like toys and messed with our minds. She also had little care for our safety, and allowed killers and beasts to run rampant, with little interruption. There was a werewolf here, who didn’t quite get the potion he needed, which spurred on an attack, and several people got hurt, all of whom are gone now. Except for me. I was bitten. I turn.” Teddy didn’t wish to scare her, but he needed her to know the importance of the statement. Needed her to understand that he was a werewolf now.
“There is… more.” Teddy told her softly, with an unfortunate look upon his face as he gently took her hand, a symbol of support more than anything else. There was something wrong with Victoire, something was different, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it as she hid under a seemingly heavy blanket. “If you’re cold, we could go inside?” He said, gesturing to the blankets.