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"Hey."

I could hear a older man's voice pierce through the fog of my sleep as he softly nudged my left shoulder.

"Hey, guy. Wake up."

My eyes opened very slowly, still not fully awake, but conscious enough to be aware of my surroundings. It was morning, and there was just enough sunlight coming in through the tree tops to make my eyes ache. I blinked a few times, and coughed.

"Are you all right, man?" the gentleman asked.

I took a deep breath. The dizzy spell I had suffered the night before had dissipated, and even though my head ached a bit, I chalked that up to being awakened so rudely. "I... I think so," I replied slowly.

"You had me worried for a minute," the man said. I turned my head to look at him - he looked to be in his mid-50s, a balding man sporting a thick mustache and a flannel shirt that made him look like a lumberjack. He smiled in equal parts relief and greeting. "You were out like that for a day or so. I was afraid you were dead."

"A day?" I blurted, shocked. "You mean, a whole 24 hours?"

"That's what I call a day," the man replied, apparently trying to sound more jovial than sarcastic but not succeeding. "I can't imagine what would cause someone to be out for that long. You hit your head or something?"

"No, but it sure feels like it," I said back, rubbing my head as the soreness began to dissipate.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." The man offered his hand to me, and hauled me up onto my feet. We made our way out of the forest and towards the park road where his Jeep was parked. "Never seen you out here before. I know this place attracts few hobos now and then, but you don't look like any hobo I've ever seen. What's your story?"

"I..." my brain hurried to think up something plausible. "I kinda ran away from home."

"'Kinda'?" He chuckled. "Either you ran away or you didn't. Did your wife throw you out or something?"

"I never had a wife," I said dismissively. "But yeah, I guess you could say I just had a bit of a messy breakup with someone."

We reached the Jeep, and the man opened the passenger door for me. "By the way, my name's Dan. I live about half a mile away from here. What's your name, sir?"

"Ni-..." I paused, realizing how bad an idea it would be to use my real name. "Neil. Neil Campbell."

"Nice to meet you, Neil."

I climbed into the seat, sighing heavily. At least, it didn't seem as if he was suspecting me at all. "You must be hungry," Dan said. "There's a coffee shop not too far away from here; we can get a bite to eat and then we can work on getting you back home."

"Thanks, but... I don't think I'll be able to go back."

"You don't? Why not?"

"Well, it's hard to explain, really. Just that we..."

Dan got into the car, and readjusted his rear-view mirror as he was about to start the engine. And for just a split-second, I saw my reflection - or at least, what I thought was my reflection. Something about it didn't look right, though. In my confusion, I turned to look at the side mirror next to the door, and gasped at what I saw. Everything looked exactly the same, except for one substantial difference.

My hair was white.

I immediately put two and two together. "Dan, I'm sorry, but I need to go." I unbuckled the seat belt and opened the door again.

"What's wrong?" Dan asked.

"You wouldn't understand. I just need to go back to see a friend."

"I could drive you..."

"No!" I shouted. "I can't let you go with me. I'm sorry, Dan." I jumped out of the car and ran out of the park.

I raced back to Gregory's house, even though he'd told me not to come back. Only now did I realize why he said that. I reached the house in record time and, without so much as a knock, barged inside. "Gregory!" I screamed. "Gregory, where are you?"

My head darted from side to side, hoping to find any sign of his presence.

"Gregory, I mean it! Come out here right now!"

I ran to his bedroom, only to find it empty. His kitchen, his bathroom, his backyard, all totally vacant.

"Gregory..." I repeated, voice growing softer and more desperate each time I said it. "Gregory... please... you can't leave me..."

But the words just disappeared, just like Gregory had done. It was then that I fell to my knees, openly sobbing in devastation.

I stayed inside that house for the rest of the day, lying on the bed where Gregory had once slept, weeping softly. When I first met him, and our acquaintance grew into a friendship, and then to a bond of love the likes of which I'd never felt before, I thought that I had shed my last tears. That night, though, I cried harder and longer than the rest of my life put together. I had lost the one soul who understood my pain, healed it, and gave me the ability to never have to feel it ever again.

In one last tribute, I went to the forest where he and I had spent so many nights in the past, and dashed through the scattered trees and brush in his honor. There were moments where I could almost feel him running alongside me, challenging me to match his pace, nipping softly at my tail and hindquarters, offering a small preview of what he intended to do when we got bored of running. But those were only figments of my imagination now, and there was no way I would ever be able to get them back. As the sun started to rise at the start of the new day, I headed to the stream that ran down the center of the woods, and let out a loud, mournful howl, hoping that somehow Gregory could hear it.

That morning, I went into town to use the key that Gregory had given me on Friday night. As per his instructions, there was a safety deposit box in the local bank that I was to open. Upon brandishing the key, the bank teller ushered me into the vault, where I opened Gregory's box. Inside, I found three items. One was the title deed for the house. The second, a certificate for 800 ounces of gold. And the third, a standard-size envelope. Despite having just inherited over a million dollars in assets from Gregory, the thing I was most interested in was the envelope, which I quickly tore open to discover a handwritten letter. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I began to read.

_My love:

If you are reading this letter, it means that circumstances have arisen that require me to do something that I'd wished I would never have to do. By now, you will have no doubt noticed certain physical changes, not the least of which is your hair color. Indeed, I have bequested you with the immortality that I have possessed for so long. Sadly, the side effect of making you immortal is that my own immortality ends, and as a result I am no longer alive. In fact, if I should have the same thing happen to me as the man who made me immortal long ago, I will have completely vanished from this world.

My decision to carry out this act was not made rashly; I swore that I would only do this if I feared that the secret of my power was endangered to the point that carrying on any longer would unmask me. This is the fourth time that I have written this sort of letter, as I have done so on the first day of each new century. As of the time I write this, our society is moving towards a technological plateau the likes of which a simple young boy from the colony of Massachusetts could never have fathomed. And alas, as mankind's technological capabilities grow, my ability to work without arousing suspicion diminishes greatly. It would only be a matter of time before someone somewhere makes the correct logical jump to realize that Gregory Dorgan does not - or at least, should not - exist. To that end, I must disappear before I am caught, and I only hope that in passing this power to you, you will have enough time to establish a new identity that you can use for a long time to come._

Inside this box, you will have noticed two other important documents. One is for the house - it is imperative that you find a proxy and sell the house as quickly as possible. Do not live in it; you will only draw suspicion. In fact, in an age where one's likeness can be transmitted across the globe in minutes, I suggest going as far away from your current location as possible. Before I departed, I gave you a sum of money that should be more than enough to accomplish this. Do not return to this place, and do not communicate with any family or other loved ones, either. You must disappear, for all intents and purposes, as it is the only way you will be able to start a new life. The gold is in the possession of a broker in New York City, the only soul not a werewolf who knows of my secret. His address is on the certificate; you must write to him and inform him of what has happened.

Finally, I may not have told you how I became a werewolf, or immortal for that matter, but I will tell you this: I gave you these powers because I believed that you would be willing and able to continue in the work that I have done. You must now become the white wolf, the protector of those who feel that the world is conspiring to defeat them, that there is no one in the world who loves them, and share with them the blessing that I gave you. I have no way to force this obligation onto you, but know that there will always be young men such as yourself who need the white wolf's help.

I know not if there is an afterlife awaiting me upon my departure. If not, then I suppose that the good I have done on this Earth was done for its own sake, and I am at peace with that. If there is, however, I can only hope that a friend of mine has seen what I have accomplished, and forgives me of what I did as I join him.

May the wolf within you always lead you down the right path.

Love,

Gregory Alexander Dorgan

I folded up the letter slowly, tucking it into my pants pocket along with the other items that were there, and silently left the bank.

I walked down the main road until I was out of city limits, and never looked back.

=== EPILOGUE ===

"Get the fuck away from me, Stinky!"

A blonde-haired teenager shoves a scrawny young man in glasses, at least six inches shorter and fifty pounds lighter, into a row of lockers. The other kids in the room laugh heartily.

"That's what you get for bumping into me!"

The shorter kid is clearly doing everything he can to keep from revealing any sort of hurt - physical or emotional - he's feeling as a result of the confrontation. But this definitely isn't the first time the two of them have crossed paths; the fact that there's a very unflattering nickname involved gives that away.

Another student chimes in. "You gonna shit your pants again, Stinky? Like you did last week?"

I, for the most part, stay in the background. I could break this up right now if I wanted to, but "Stinky" wouldn't derive any benefit from it if I did. No, I have to approach him and earn his trust first before we could start working on the current source of his misery.

It was my first day in this new school. Having learned a fair amount of computer skills, I was able to hack into the school's database and add a new name into the records. Nobody suspected a thing when I walked into the locker room and presented my new student form.

When the boorish blonde gets done changing and leaves, that's when I know it's time to come in.

I walk up next to him, new gym clothes in my hand, and smile. "Mind if I use this locker?"

The boy gives me a quick looking over and shrugs. "I don't care."

"Thanks." I make it a point to be as cheerful as possible, doing what I can to put him at ease. "The name's Nick, by the way. What's your name?"

"Stinky," the boy replies in a defeated tone of voice.

"That can't be your real name, can it?"

He shakes his head. "Joey."

"So why do they call you that, then?"

"Oh, some stupid prank they pulled last week. They pantsed me in the cafeteria, and they saw that my underwear had a stain on them."

"That's unfortunate," I said sympathetically. "Those guys always give you a hard time, don't they?"

"What's it to you?" Joey says, clearly apprehensive with my interrogation.

I squint a little bit, and the blessing takes hold within him. I can see his response to it; he shakes his head abruptly, as if scaring off a nearby mosquito.

"You okay?" I ask, knowing fully well what he was feeling.

"I'm all right... just got a bit dizzy there."

I chuckled. "You want to wait for me to change into these? We can talk outside if you want?"

Joey smiled dimly. "Sure."

Joey Smithson, age 15. A young man growing into adulthood, plagued with many of the same demons and trials that I had to contend with five years ago. In time, I will reveal my secrets to him, help him off the spiral of depression and anguish that he's clearly been suffering for a long time, and show him the power of the wolf, a power that I will teach him to use so that he may overcome his shyness, his self-defeat, his doubts, and unlock the potential he has. Already, as I see him excel on the field at a level he never thought he'd ever be able to reach, my blessing is having an effect on him. He seems less worried about what others are saying, focusing instead on my words of encouragement and comfort. And not to get ahead of myself, but I'm looking forward to spending time with him away from the field... and from others.

Gregory was right - now that I had these new powers, it would be a waste - not to mention a dishonor to him - not to use them as he did. Joey will be the first person that I've granted the power of the wolf, but I know he won't be the last. For even though I have the power now to help Joey and other young men like him, I know that there are so many people who are in his position that I would never be able to help them all.

That is the blessing and the curse that I must now shoulder. And I do it without complaint, for I am the white wolf.

== THE END ==