Carstairs went to his front door angry. Those idiot scientists were trespassing on his land, who knew what they've done to it. There went one fine woodlot, not to mention a hunting ground. If young Jim Terrier was right, he was talking about a total loss.
And what was Jim Terrier talking about, before he saw Jim he was to think "werewolf". That was the last time Carstairs was going to hire some crazy college kid. The only thing that Carstairs could make of it was that Terrier had taken off his shirt in the wake of the animal's attack. Bad bites and scratches, as if Jim Terrier thought that, he Carstairs, was afraid of human blood? Carstairs had been a circus promoter before retiring to his farm, and had seen worse.
Of course, Jim Terrier was a hairy young man (came from his Mom's side of the family, Carstairs thought), as anyone could see. Carstairs thought that the reason Jim left his shirt open wasn't just the sweat and the heat of the work, but the fat that his nineteen-year-old granddaughter Kathy had something for the hair on Terrier's torso. She had even jokingly told Carstairs that "Terrier was a fury as a real terrier".
Carstairs didn't mind. Kathy could do worse. That reminded him - if he had to drive Jim to the hospital, he'd need to leave a note for her when she came home.
Carstairs' train of thought derailed when he looked out the window, in shock. Jim was right. He was a werewolf. It was only twenty plus years of dealing with the circus' freaks that saved Carstair's from screaming in shock. The poor kid was on the porch, looking a sheepish as a wolf could. His clothes were torn exposing his fur covered sinew. The facial expression and blue eyes were human, though partially obscured by the short muzzle. Jim's tousled black hair was a dead giveaway. What was that? The kid had a tail, wolf's tail fully proportionate to his body.
Carstairs sighed, swallowed, then walked to the door and opened it a crack.
"You're not contagious, Jim, are you?" he asked.
"Only if I bite" Jim replied, looking wonderingly at his boss.
"Fine, boy" said Carstairs. "Come on in, we'll see what we're gonna do about you?"