The butcher shop is open in the morning, the best Valka can offer to salvage other families' Thanksgivings. She doesn't have enough birds to save all of Port Leiry's forgetfuls (and those whose turkeys are still pitifully frozen), but she's got enough variety, enough prepared cuts, that it's worth going in for the first few hours of the day to rake in a little extra money.

She's not expecting to get home to the rough scent of something burned, though -- any other day of the year she'd think someone was trying to send the Fellowship a message, but today Valka is surprised to find that Roan's taken it upon himself to massacre a bird all on his own. Even Bolillo isn't looking too excited about the scraps.

"Hey, hey, what the hell are ya doin' there?"

She would have raised him better than this, if she'd raised him at all. But Roan's been raised by wolves. Her son isn't much better than a dog with thumbs and the know-how to at least get an oven fired up. She refuses to be bitter about all the family meals they lost out on. She knows she's too far broken to fix it all. But no Alejo, no Bookers... Valka's got fewer folks than ever in her life and the lone ranger gambit works for some folks, but not her. She softens, sighing.

"Roan... if there's one thing I know, it's how to cook meat and do it right. You could'a asked me. I was gonna make us dinner when I got back from the shop -- I can't let you try to choke down a blackened bird, I mean that's just sad."

She hangs up the first time they call. Someone had a lotta nerve looking her up and making wild claims.

But as Valka leaves the grounds of the masquerade, still dressed to the nines, the nurse's words turn over in her mind until she swallows them. The hunter is going to choke on the sinews and her own bile as the name tears itself a path, bloody, screaming, down the walls of her throat and settles over her heart;

We're currently looking after a young man calling himself Roan Harrier Hadley, he has no identification but what records we can find indicate you are his kin. He's in a bad state, in some sort of attack. Can you come to Port Noble Hospital tonight?

They call one more time and the woman picks up the phone and the sounds of desperation come tumbling out of her mouth. It's an unfamiliar sound, even to Valka's own ears. And if this is some trick, some sick joke by the witches who wanted revenge -- well, she never needs another excuse to take some heads.

---

Of course Valka doesn't recognize the boy -- the body -- in the bed. And she's likely better equipped than the doctors to diagnose the attack. But if there's even a chance this is... even if it can't be, because she wasn't looking tonight, she hadn't been looking for the better part of five years... Well, she thinks she'd better start payin' tribute to St. Anthony and St. Jude. Lost things, lost causes. Too bad there wasn't a patron saint of lost legs (not that she's asked the Catholic church for the holy phone book recently).

Hunter's blood might help. Mother's blood might too. It's late and she's sitting in a chair after some shouting at the nurses to let her be the one giving blood for the transfusion. He's weak, not conscious, and maybe she thinks this is a bad idea. But on the off chance it might not be, she isn't going to let Roan get something nameless, from a bag that was just as sure to be vampire chow than anything. And maybe after all this time, Valka can't allow the altruism of others to be the thing that saves her boy...

If that even is her boy anymore.

Fresh tears rolled down her cheek when the credits of Brave rolled on her tv screen, one of her favorite movies of all time. She sat safe and sound cuddled up with her dog and a blanket on the couch, a cup of finished tea in her hands. ''What do you say Riley, should we watch Moana, too?'' Her dog buried his snoot on her lap, giving her hand a tentative yet lazy lick. ''Baby,'' she cooed, leaning forward to give the white swiss a kiss on her head. Her phone buzzed exactly at 12AM with notifications flooding in, making Luna's heart drop for a split second and then laugh, ''-oh yeah,'' she'd forgotten about her own birthday for a moment. A sweet clueless moment where she'd been in her own bubble. The happy birthday texts put a smile on Luna's face.

At the ring of her doorbell, Riley barked shortly. A few of her friends had arranged a surprise for her birthday, they picked her up and promised to bring her back home, so Luna had left her phone home. They hopped bars, joined a karaoke night that had three shots in Luna performing Mamma Mia with no shame whatsoever, dancing around, crawling on top of tables and sing to a young looking man who she shared the microphone with. Her happiness reached its peak, really -

So how did they end up in the woods, again? Something along the lines of 'we should go skinny dipping! It's full moon, it'll be fun!' A few cocktails and more than five shots in, Luna was giddy and caved in for anything at this point. But when they'd been walking around for quite some time with no end in sight, Luna sobered up just enough to wonder out loud, ''didn't we pass that same tree like twice already?'' And then the flashlights died one by one, like a scene in a horror movie. One of them opted to go back to the truck to grab some more batteries, another went to go find cell service - the group thinned out and somehow Luna ended up alone. Those damn shots, they affected her memory. ''Uhh.. guys?'' Luna felt the chills run down her arms now and she crossed her arms. There was a breeze in the air, playing with the leaves and the sight of the full moon in the sky captured Luna's gaze. How gorgeous nature was, she thought.

Too soon her peaceful thoughts were broken off, the snapping of a twig made her heart sink inside her chest and she quickly turned around. Followed by a distance awooooooo, Luna stiffened.