Chapter 1: Cryptids Over Coke

“I’m telling you man, these pics are real! I saw something out in the woods last week and it definitely wasn’t human. I'm thinking it may be a relative to bigfoot, or some other kind of sasquatch-like being, perhaps a skunk ape. Here, take another look. Tell me what you think.”

Max slides a few printed photographs across the diner table he and his friend are sitting at. Austin, a rather rotund fellow, turns the photos right side up.

“I dunno man. These photos are pretty grainy.” He says, downing a few French fries before continuing. “Looks like a bear to me. Bears are furry, found in the woods, and believe it or not they can stand on their hind legs when they want to. It’s a bear dude, most reasonable explanation.”

“It is not a bear!” Max refutes, snatching his photos back. “I’ve been on enough camping trips to know a bear when I see one and whatever I saw out in the mountains last week is not a bear! Bears don’t have human-like proportions nor do they walk around on two legs for any significant length of time. I mean just look at this thing man, it’s way too slender to be a bear.” Max puts a hand to his chin. “Ya know, there is a military base close to here. Maybe they’ve been doing experiments on human/animal hybrids and one escaped.”

“Come on dude!” Austin laughs, almost spilling his soda. “That’s the wackiest thing I’ve heard all day. What’s next? You gonna tell me Mrs. Grinner is a lizard person and the moon is made of cheese?”

Max shrugs.

“Mrs. Grinner is pretty weird. Have you heard the way she laughs? Sounds more like a dying coyote than a human. And she smells weird too.”

“She’s like a hundred years old, all old people smell weird.”

Max squints and takes a closer look at the photo.

“Maybe it’s not a human hybrid. I can only see part of the face due to the branches, but this could be a wifwolf.”

“The hell’s a wifwolf?”

“It means wolf wife. Some ancient legends talk of humans marrying animal people, this could be one such animal person.”

“I’m pretty sure if talking animal people existed we would know about it dude.” Austin says, an incredulous look on his face.

“It’s just a theory Austin. And there are plenty of legends of strange things happening out in the Appalachian Mountains. It’s like they’re some kind of hotbed for anomalous activity. Maybe, somehow, there’s some kind of place out in the mountains that acts as a portal between dimensions allowing mythical beasts into our world.”

“Uh-huh. And there’s a portal in my bedroom that lets small green aliens steal half my socks and ruffle my bedsheets every night. This is crazy talk man.”

“It’s not crazy talk! I know what I saw out there!”

“And what you saw out there was a bear.”

Max sits back in the booth and crosses his arms.

“Oh yeah? When summer break comes up in a couple weeks I'm going to take another camping trip in the mountains and I'm going to bring back solid evidence of what I saw out there. And it’s going to be a lot more interesting than a damn bear!”

“Uh-huh sure. Don’t come crying to me when it’s all a waste of time.”

“You could come with me, it would be a lot more interesting than sitting at home all day.” Max offers, a sly look on his face.

“No thanks. I’d prefer to stay in civilization thank you very much.” Austin quickly replies.

“What? Afraid to be more than ten miles away from a McDonalds in case you start going through big mac withdrawal?”

“Shut up! I'm not that fat, I just don’t like sleeping on the ground and being around mosquitos is all.”

Max leans forward, a determined look on his face.

“Whatever you say Austin. Just know this, in a few weeks you and I will be meeting back here and I’ll have all the evidence I need to make you look like a total fool. I guarantee it.”

**************************************************************

“Becky you would not believe what I saw out in the mountains the other day. Just look at these photos I took, they’re proof that something is out there and it isn’t a beast folk. Whatever it was it had next to no fur, walked on two legs, and didn’t have a muzzle either! Here, take a look.”

Amanda slides a few grainy photos over to her bovine friend. Becky takes a sip of her milkshake and slowly scans the photos.

“It’s just someone with a severe burn, Amanda. When people get severe burns the follicles die and the fur doesn’t grow back. What you’re seeing is just an innocent hiker with the misfortune to have some nosy wolf, like you, take a picture of them as if they were some kind of carnival attraction. And it’s impossible to tell whether they have a muzzle or not from this angle, for all we know it could just be a cat or some other species with a short muzzle.”

“You aren’t listening to what I’m saying!” Amanda cries, sliding the photos back to her side of the table. “It’s not someone with a severe burn and it’s not like any animal that’s out there either! I’ve been out in the woods long enough to know what kinds of animals to expect out there and what I saw defied explanation.”

“Oh yeah? Then what is it?”

Amanda squints and looks at the photos with an inquisitorial gaze, her ears pinned back in concentration.

“Too small to be a hairless awooppalachian ape, too smooth to be a naked molerat, and not scaly enough to be a lizard person. This could be a humie husband.” She concludes, tapping one of the photos.

“Oh my god Amanda.” Becky rolls her eyes with a snort. “Those are just a myth made up by ancient beast peoples with nothing better to do. Hairless beings with no muzzle, no claws, and no tails don’t exist. You might as well say it’s a furwalker or something.”

“No, you don’t get it! There are plenty of myths surrounding humie husbands and they’re all from disparate tribes all across the planet. All the legends are too similar, too numerous for all of them to be made up. I'm telling you they might actually be out there Becky, waiting for some wolven maiden to come across them.” Amanda muses, an odd look on her face.

“And why not a bovine maiden, huh?” Becky raises an eyebrow.

“Pshh, you don’t ever go out in the woods Becky, how the hell could you find a humie husband if you’re not willing to actually go out to where they live?”

“Maybe they live out in wide green pastures instead of the woods. Where there aren’t any bugs and there’s plenty of nice, tasty grass to eat.” She replies, arms crossed.

Amanda chuckles.

“I'm pretty sure that we would know about them if they lived out in plain sight. Besides, it only makes sense that they would make themselves hard to find if they knew lumbering cows like you were out to get them. Broken pelvises and all that.”

“How dare you! Oh! Making fun of my curves again! I’ll have you know that I'm at a perfectly healthy weight for a Holstein cow. Girls like me tend to have a little more bounce to the ounce, unlike skinny boned wolves. Good luck feeding any pups with those mosquito bites of yours.” Becky fires back with a smirk.

Amanda huffs and sits back in her seat, covering up her unimpressive chest with crossed arms.

“Whatever, when summer break comes around I'm going to go out in the woods with my camera again and you’re going to look real stupid when I come back with photos of a humie husband.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet on it?” Becky asks, an excited look on her face.

“Sure.”

“Alright, if you come back with photos of a humie husband I have to buy you a large milkshake the next time we meet at McDonkey’s, but if you don’t then it’ll be you buying me the shake.”

Amanda smiles confidently and puts her paw out for a handshake.

“Deal!”

Chapter 2: Thresholds crossed

Max hauls a hefty hiking pack out the trunk of his rust bucket, swinging it around his back and double checking his straps. He came prepared for this little scouting mission, failure is simply not an option if success means making Austin eat his own words. Three days worth of supplies, waterproof clothing, tent, sleeping bag, binoculars, and of course a camera with zoom lens and plenty of spare film rolls. After double checking he had everything necessary he closes the trunk and begins heading toward a nearby hiking trail.

Despite starting on a trail it wouldn’t be soon until he broke off the beaten path and into the towering mass of trees that made up the forest valley. Great pines poked above the clouds of wispy fog that drifted across the trees, dimming his surroundings as Max trekked through tangled underbrush and vaulted over rotting logs. After nearly an hour of hard travel Max takes a quick breather, leaning against a tree and drinking from his canteen. His eyes drift across his surroundings, in search of any strange furry beasts. Broken branches, a loose smattering of pine needles on the ground, the untouched trunks of towering trees. No sign of anything out of the ordinary…yet.

Max puts his canteen away and continues onward through the forest, using his own natural sense of direction and intimate knowledge of the area to keep himself situated. Yet this would prove more and more difficult as the day wore on. The fog that once kept to the treetops gradually lowers all the way to the forest floor, his vision eventually becoming confined to a mere fifty feet, then twenty feet, then all the way to no more than five feet in front of him.

“What the hell…” He mutters, looking upwards to see the sun as nothing more than a slightly brighter than normal patch of fog.

Now without any landmarks to situate himself, he takes out a compass from a jacket pocket. The needle seems to be just as confused as he is, rapidly pointing in random directions without any rhyme or reason. He shakes his head and puts it back in his pocket.

“Must be metal deposits nearby that are confusing it. Ya, or maybe it’s broken and I’ll have to get a new one when I return back home.” He takes a few steps before stopping. “If I return.” He whispers, keenly aware of just how bad it is to be in the middle of nowhere without a method of navigation.

Steeling his nerves, he takes a deep breath and continues through the fog. His form gradually becomes less distinct as it’s engulfed in foggy smoke, any trace he was here dissipating as even his footsteps merge with the gentle rustle of branches above.

******************************************************************

Amanda lifts a heavy hiking pack out of the bed of Becky’s pickup, throwing it around her back as she adjusts her straps. Satisfied with its fit, she walks up to the cab.

“Alright, I’m good to go Becky. Be sure to meet me here in three days time unless I say otherwise. And if I'm not back by then, well, you know what do to.”

“You did leave me everything in your will, right? Including your stereo and lava lamp? Just curious.”

Amanda shoots her a serious look.

“Let’s just hope you’ll never have to find out. And be sure to have enough cash on you the next time we’re at McDonkey’s since you’ll have to buy me a shake.”

“Not unless you bring me evidence of that humie thing! I'm not giving you squat unless you hand me unequivocable proof of one, and a blurry photo taken from a mile way doesn’t count!”

“Don’t worry Becky, I’m sure I’ll have a lot more than blurry photos next time we meet. Now be sure to keep an ear out for the phone ringing in case I need to return early.”

“Sure thing. Good luck out there, you may be a full blooded wolfess but that doesn’t mean mother nature is going to show you any slack.”

“I can take care of myself, see ya!”

“Bye!”

They give each other a quick wave and Amanda marches to the head of the trail, hands on her backpack straps and a confident smile on her muzzle. After walking no more than a mile of the trail she deviates from its well-worn path, moving towards the untouched wilderness that made up the valley floor. After trudging through tangled underbrush and sliding between tree trunks for several minutes she finally halts when the fog that once graced the tops of the trees lowers all the way to the ground, granting her no more than a few feet of visibility. Annoyed, she takes a compass out of a pocket and tries to get her bearings. But it proves to be no help, the needle spinning around in all directions.

“Stupid thing…” She mutters under her breath, angrily putting it back in her pocket. “Welp, when technology fails there’s always good old instincts to fall back on. I bet I can determine my position with one, maybe two howls at the most.”

Amanda tilts her head back and prepares to let loose a long wolf howl, being able to determine her position in the valley from the sound of the echo.

“AWOOOOOOO-“

*********************************************

*-OOOOOOooooooo*

Max stops dead in his tracks. A wolf howl? In the middle of the day? And it sounded close too. Not good, not good at all. He swings his head around in all directions, unable to see anything but fog and the ghostly outlines of tree trunks off in the distance. Cursing himself he trudges onward, hoping that if wolves really are around they’ll find a nice tasty deer before resorting to hunting prey of the two legged variety. Still resolute on finding proof of the illusive wifwolf despite the danger, Max marches on into the fog saturated forest, moisture sticking to his clothes and skin as he progresses. 

It happened just after he jumped over a small stream. The second his boots touched the other side it was like every primal instinct in his body went off at once. His skin became racked with goosebumps, the air suddenly felt electric, his hands started sweating and his blood bubbled with adrenaline.

He freezes and looks around, confusedly attempting to determine why the hell he’s overtaken by a sudden sense of panic, suspicion, and dread all at once. Fog, trees, dirt, plants. Nothing out of the ordinary. He takes a hesitant step forward and-

Just like that the feeling’s gone.

His heartbeat lowers, his breathing calms, that odd sense of unexplainable panic that gripped him mere moments ago leaves just as quickly as it came. He shivers slightly in his moist clothing and takes a sip of water from his canteen to quench his dry mouth. What hell was that? A panic attack? From what? And why? Max had never been the anxious type, and rarely did he let his emotions grip him so tightly. With no obvious answers he shakes his head and puts the canteen away. Whatever it was it would have no effect on his mission. Max was nothing if not resolute, especially if success meant making Austin look like a fool. He begins marching into the thick fog once more. Yet as he does, he can’t shake the nagging feeling that something’s…different…about the forest. The bird calls sound just a tad off tune, the air feels a little stickier than before, the trees a little closer together and the ground a little drier.

He's not sure why, but the forest he’d spent much of his life exploring now somehow feels foreign to him.

**************************************************************  

Amanda twists her ears around and waits for the echo to hit her.

And waits.

And waits.

Still no echo? Impossible! She should still be in the valley.

“What the…” She mutters.

No compass, no landmarks, and now even her own voice was failing her! She impotently kicks the ground and tries to think of what to do next. Given that she was totally lost she could set up camp here and wait for the fog to clear, or maybe retrace her own footsteps in the wet ground and try to make it back to the trail. But both those options mean a full day wasted! She only has enough supplies to last three days out here max and wasting a full third of her time simply made her sick. She was going to find that humie husband one way or another, temporary losses in direction, equipment failures, and foul weather be damned!

And so Amanda marches forward into the fog once more, ever determined to make Becky buy her that milkshake and-

The fur on her neck stands straight up, her ears pin themselves to her head, her lips curl into a grimace as a low instinctive growl leaves her muzzle. Shifting into a low defensive stance she looks to the left and right, finding no source for her newfound sense of fear. Adrenaline pumping, she lets loose a barrage of barks into the nearby forest, desperately attempting to ward away whatever it was that’s setting her instinct’s off so badly. She takes a step forward and-

She’s instantly back to normal.

Her ears twist forward and she slowly rises to a normal posture. After a cautious survey of her surroundings she finds no sign of what, or who, it was that set off her instincts. It’s like for a split second her body just felt that something was very off and activated every defense mechanism she had. Strange, but it’s hardly unheard of for wolves of her kind to have a kind of sixth sense when out in the wild. Knowing an earthquake is coming before the seismographs do, sensing danger when it’s around a corner, her wolfish senses worked in strange ways.

She takes a deep breath and continues to march forward, chalking up the odd feelings to a simple false positive.   

Chapter 3: Watchers in the Woods

Max breathes a sigh of relief as the fog begins to clear. While his vision was still obscured beyond one hundred yards it was sure as hell better than the paltry five feet he had before. Yet even with his increased visibility he still had no view of any landmarks or identifying features to help guide him through the misty woods. So he resolves to simply cover as much ground as possible before nightfall, if he was going to spend all day in this foggy prison he might as well try to do his best to find some telltale signs of his prey.

After several more minutes of trekking through the forest he stops and looks to the ground, eyes trained on a sight most odd. There, imprinted on the dirt next to a towering pine, are tracks. He walks quietly towards them and squats down. They’re animal tracks alright, one large pad print with four smaller ones right above it. He leans in closer, seeing faint claw marks right next to the smaller pad prints. Okay, so a wolf is out here. As much as the rational side of him is screaming that it’s just a wild wolf trotting around, probably the same one he heard earlier, the not so rational side of his brain is thinking it’s a wifwolf. He puts his hand next to the paw print. It’s big, a little larger than his own hand from claw to base. He then looks forward, attempting to judge the gait of the animal. Where a wolf would have the tightly spaced tracks typical of a four-legged animal these tracks were much farther apart, eerily similar to a human’s two-legged gait.

Max begins following the tracks to wherever they might lead, slipping once more into the wispy mists.

*************************************************

“Damnit!”

Amanda stomps the ground in frustration. The strange tracks that she’d been following for the past half hour have up and disappeared. She eyes the last footprint, desperately attempting to seek out why her only lead has stopped so suddenly. Composed of a vaguely oval shape and with many sharp imprints made where they fell, the prints defied any explanation. Not anything close to a barefoot beast folk’s tracks and too large to be from someone wearing paw covers the only rational explanation is that they’re from a humie husband. Her memory is spotty, but she does vaguely recall some legends about them not having regular paws but instead strange flat feet with many toes.

She squints at the last footprint in confused silence. These tracks had been incredibly consistent until now. A steady gait, solid deformations in the ground, yet here it’s as if the humie took one step forward and was instantly teleported away. Nothing in front, nothing to the left, nothing to the right, and no signs of them backtracking. Amanda exhales and gets her camera out, hell, if these tracks weren’t going to lead her to her prey then she might as well document them for later research.

*CLICK*

She puts the camera away and takes a few steps forward, eyes scanning the forest. With no strange furless beasts in sight she turns her nose to the wind. Her eyes have failed her, but her nose may prove more useful.

Moist dirt, distant pines, sweet flowers, and rotten stumps. But underneath it all is an almost imperceptible scent. It’s remarkably different from any other species she’s known. Not canine, or feline, or any of the other -ines. Not fish, or bird, or reptile. Not feral, but also not beastfolk. She takes a few more inquisitive sniffs and picks up on the direction the smell is coming from. Ready or not, here she comes.

***************************************************

“Unbelievable. Just my luck.” Max shakes his head despondently as the line of tracks suddenly stop. “Like a bunch of freaking aliens came down and teleported her up. God.” He sighs and throws some more beef jerky into his mouth. As disappointing these tracks are he has to admit one thing, this beef jerky is delicious.

He begins following in the direction of the tracks as he eats, attempting to find where they would have lead if they had continued. He comes up on a small hill and climbs up it, eventually cresting the top and gaining an excellent view of the valley below. Though the fog still obscured his vision he could at least see farther than at any time in the past several hours. He takes a quick moment to pause and survey his surroundings. Nothing but more trees, fog, bushes and-

There, just at the edge of the fog in the valley was movement. Max immediately drops the bag of jerky and takes out his camera, heartrate rising. He moves to get a better vantage point and sees…something moving around in the woods below him. He squints in an attempt to make out details. Whoever it was has awfully large ears, and they do seem pretty hairy, and is that…a tail?!

Max smiles and brings his camera up to his eye, quickly snapping a few pics of the misty figure down below. Yet when he lowers his camera the figure is moving back behind the wall of fog.

“No-no-no-shit-shit! Get closer damnit.” He mutters, intensely aware that the pictures he’d just taken would have her far too blurry to be useful.

Spurred on by what may very well be a wifwolf in the flesh Max races on down the hill towards his target, blood pumping and a big stupid grin on his face.

*************************************************

*SNIFF*…*SNIFF SNIFF*

“No way this is what I smelled…”

Amanda holds the bag of jerky up to her muzzle and cocks her head. Though pungent, the dried beef had a uniquely recognizable smell, one that she’s detected many times before. Nothing at all like the mystery scent she detected earlier. Disappointed, she drops the bag on the ground and looks around for more footprints. Finding none, she chalks it up to the forest playing more tricks on her. Or maybe aliens abducted whoever was eating the jerky, heh.

The wolf saunters up to a nearby tree and leans against it. She gazes into the misty valley below, letting out a discontented growl as her trail has grown cold once again. No more footprints, no more scents, and nothing in her vision. What a total nonstarter the day has been. All that tramping around and for what? A few pictures of weird looking footprints? Becky would roast her alive if she tried to present them as evidence of a humie husband. What she needs is-

Amanda’s ears perk up as she detects something in the valley below. It’s the faint sound of wood snapping and branches breaking. Her eyes zone in on the source of the sound and she begins to make out a figure in the fog. Two legs, with a backpack, plantigrade, no tail, and the figure’s hands and face are oddly flesh colored. There he is! That’s the furless beast she’s been searching for!

Amanda grabs her camera and snaps a few photos of the distant figure. To her dismay the humie husband is rapidly moving away from her, running back into the impenetrable mists. Knowing that pursuit is necessary if she’s ever going to get decent pictures, she leaps into action and begins sprinting towards the human, a dumb grin plastered onto her muzzle that’s just as large as her prey’s.

**************************************************

And so began a cat and mouse chase that would last for the rest of the day. Max would get close only for Amanda to fade into the fog at the last moment, Amanda would track Max’s footsteps only for him to suddenly appear in the opposite direction of travel. The forest itself seemed to play with their senses, as if intentionally trying to keep them apart. Amanda would hear phantom conversation from behind distant trees leading her away from her prey, Max would spot a tail poking out from behind a tree only for it to be attached to an animal of the feral variety, the fog seemed to ebb and flow forever preventing them from getting a decent picture of the other. As the day wore on, and their supply of camera film began to diminish, the two cryptid chasers would resolve to make camp as night fell and resume the hunt tomorrow.

As chance would have it, they both settle on making camp on either side of a large rock jutting out of a hillside…

*************************************************

Max awakens to the tweets of a few happy songbirds, the morning sun bathing his tent in an orange glow. After stretching his arms and letting loose a mighty yawn he puts on his boots and makes a small fire for breakfast. With some sausage sizzling away on a skillet he gets up and surveys the weather this new day would bring.

Still cloudy, the fog from yesterday persisted, and with the way the horizon looked there might be rain on the way. Damn, he was hoping today would at least bring slightly better weather so his search could go more smoothly. Pushing negative thoughts of the future out of his mind he feels the call of nature, and begins to walk around the massive rock next to his tent. Just as he loses view of the fire he stops, unzips his pants, and-

Footsteps. He turns to look at their source and what he sees causes him to freeze. A wifwolf in all her furry glory is staring right back at him. Gray fur, golden eyes, and wearing clothing not dissimilar to his own. The wifwolf freezes as soon as their eyes meet, it’s clear she wasn’t expecting a visitor either.

There’s a tense, silent pause. Slowly the gears in their heads to turn.

The camera!

They both run off to their respective camps, snatching up their cameras before racing back to where they just saw each other. As soon as he sees the wifwolf return Max puts the viewfinder up his face, puts her front and center, and takes the picture.

*CLICK*

*******************************************

*CLICK*

Amanda lowers her camera and-

There’s no one there!

Her face melts into a confused stare. Was she going crazy? She just saw him! He was in her viewfinder staring right back at her! And…now he’s gone? Just like that?

Amanda looks to her camera, then back up to where the humie husband was standing. If she really did see him, if he really does exist, then the picture she just took should be proof of her sanity. And if not, well, maybe a visit to a psychiatrist would be a good idea. Amanda does a quick search of the area, finds no traces of the humie, then walks back to her camp. When she arrives she notices something odd. The fog that’s followed her since yesterday has disappeared.

Chapter 4: Don’t Stop, Belieeeevin’

“Stop getting grease all over my pictures you fat cow, it took a lot of effort to get these!” Max shouts at his French fry toting friend.

“Geez, okay, calm down.” Austin wipes his hands with a napkin and leans down to survey Max’s haul of photographs. “I don’t know man, these are all taken from so far away.”

“It was foggy during my entire hike out in the mountains, and I could never seem to get close enough to her for a clear picture. Wifwolves must have good senses, it’s like she knew where I was going to be before I did.”

“Are you’re sure this isn’t just another hiker in a fuzzy gray jacket or something?”

“It wasn’t a human, I’m sure of it.” Max leans forward and points to one picture in particular. “See this one? Look at her legs. They’re bent at such an odd angle they have to be digitigrade, like a wolf’s legs.”

“Digiti- what?”

“Don’t worry about it. And see this one? Look at the face, that’s got to be a muzzle!”

“Or maybe it’s just part of a hood at an odd angle.”

Max leans back and crosses his arms.

“Well do you at least believe that it isn’t a bear?”

“Okay, sure, it’s not a bear. But I don’t believe that it’s a wifwolf, or a bigfoot, or whatever else you think it is either. It’s probably just another hiker like you.”

Max smirks and reaches into his pocket.

“Well thankfully I have one more picture to show you, and I think it’s going to blow your mind.”

**************************************************

“Did you see his dick?”

Amanda recoils back in shock.

“What?!”

“You said he had his pants unzipped when you stumbled upon him. Did you see his dick? Did he have like a knot or a slimy tentacle penis or something?”

“Oh my god, no Becky I did not see his penis. Jesus.” Amanda grimaces.

Becky takes a long sip of her drink.

“Shame, because I see nothing here that proves that it was a humie husband. Probably just another hiker lost in the fog like you were. Guess you’ll have to go get me my milkshake now. I’d like strawberry, if you please.”

“Not so fast!” Amanda reaches into her jacket pocket and retrieves one last photo, slamming it down on the table and sliding towards the gloating cow. “I was able to get this one before I left. It’s irrefutable proof that it was a humie husband!”

Becky leans forward with her mouth agape, scanning the photo’s every detail.

“He…was taking a picture of you?”

“Ya, not really sure how it happened exactly but it seems we took photos of each other at the same time.”

“And what happened after it was taken?”

“He was gone, just like that.”

“Weird.” Becky squints at the photo. “His hands may be furless but that doesn’t prove he’s a mythical humie. Rats and mice have hands kind of like that you know.”

Amanda groans.

“Oh come on, look at his forehead, see where the hair stops and his furless face begins?”

“Could be a burn victim with a very specific burn.”

Amanda leans forward with a huff.

“And look at his legs! Plantigrade! And no claws on his hands! He’s got to be a humie husband, got to be.”

Becky leans back and puts a hand to her chin.

“Hmmm, I'm not sure this counts as enough evidence. I may need some physical evidence before I can really be sure.”

“Physical evidence? Get real, I could barely get a picture of the guy much less get anything off of him.”

“Maybe you should plant a trap next time. Put some beer inside of a cage or something.”

Amanda cocks her head with an incredulous look.

“Maybe later. Now are you going to get me my milkshake or will I have to pin you down and rip your pockets apart for the money?”

Becky sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Alright, fine, I’ll go get you one. What flavor?”

“Same as always.”

“Peanut butter it is then."