The moon has been terrible. The wolves had cornered him even before the transformation, just staring him down in the locker room outside the fences expansive land they would roam. A punch to the stomach had made the transformation a hundred times more painful, and the second Remus had turned into his werewolf form they’d taken chase with him. He’d run long and hard around the wooded area, but it hadn’t stopped them from trying to crush his ribs and paws. He’d passed out, sure they would kill him until he awoke hours later in the infirmary within an inch of his life. The medicines had been foul, but the claim was that his ribs were mostly healed. His hands had been quick enough, but Remus was sore.
He was bruised all over, his chest in particular as he hobbled back up to his room. Dressed in his military fatigue he opened the door slowly, trying to look tougher than he was. But the bruise under his left eye and the way his nose wasn’t totally straight gave him away- as did the small bag full of potions he still needed to take to fix what still needed mending.