You and Becky back away from the plank, keeping an eye on the werewolves. "What the fuck were those things?" Becky asks, panic in her voice.
"Werewolves," you reply, realizing how insane the reply sounds, but knowing there's no other possible answer.
"Werewolves don't exist...it's impossible," she weakly protests.
"Do YOU want to tell them that they don't exist?" you ask.
"No, no...that's alright," Becky says. "Let's just head into town and call our folks, they don't seem too interested in us anymore."
You'd have to disagree with Becky, though you don't say anything. The werewolves are massed along the railing, alternately howling at the moon and watching you still quite intently. Sure, they seem perfectly content to let you leave for now, but they were simply a delivery service. You can't help but wonder if something worse might be in store for you, Becky, and the rest of the passengers on the ferry this night. But you have little choice. Waiting here on the dock would most likely be suicide. There's a narrow cobblestone road leading away from the dock and into the town of Port Moonrise.
Theoretically, you could go off the beaten path and into the woods, but there's no telling if you'd find your way out, nor what else might lurk in the woods. You could also hop into the water, and hopefully manage to swim to some form of safety; Pleasure Island itself can't be more than a mile or two from this island. Perhaps another passing boat on the bay might find you, despite how dark it is, but either way you're taking a gamble. You realize that no matter how this night plays out, you're gambling with your life.