The infinite growlers

Thrain strolled along the deserted pathway of the school, his senses sharpened as his instincts resembling those of a wolf kicked in. Aware of being observed, he could sense the gazes of his fellow classmates fixed upon him. This had become a routine occurrence since the moment he had unraveled his true nature as a werewolf. Previously, he had always sensed a disconnect, but now the reason behind it was made clear to him.

As he walked, he caught sight of a cluster of boys gathered closely, engaged in hushed conversations and occasionally casting furtive glances in his direction. Hastening his steps, he couldn't shake off the burden of their penetrating gazes following him from behind. Throughout his life, he had always been susceptible to being targeted by bullies, but ever since undergoing his transformation, the intensity of these assaults had escalated to a point where he scarcely could control his urge to unleash his fury and dismantle them.

Thrain tried to ignore them and focus on getting to class. He had always been a good student, and now he needed to keep his grades up more than ever.

As he turned the corner, he saw her. Edith. She was leaning against the lockers, surrounded by her usual group of friends. She had long, curly hair that fell in soft waves around her face, and her eyes sparkled in the dim hallway light. Thrain's heart raced as he approached her.

"Hey, Edith" he said, keeping his voice steady.

"Hey, Thrain" she responded with a polite smile.

Thrain, the school outcast, could only hope for the best in his interactions with Edith, the most popular girl, who had never engaged with him beyond exchanging meaningless greetings.

As he proceeded further, a wave of melancholy engulfed him. He would never be able to blend in with this place; he was unique... because he was a werewolf.

A mystical creature that exists only in legends; a beast that howls in the blindness of nights.

As he got to his classroom, he went to take his seat, located at the extreme of the class, next to a window.

But then something caught his attention. A smell. It was faint, but it was there. Thrain focused his senses, trying to pinpoint the source, fuck! He was the worst at concentrating.

The classroom teacher came in, he could barely focus, his attention had totally been drawn, his eyes totally fixated out the window.

That's when his eye came in contact with a man outside the school, he had a mix of silver, gray red pair of eyes, and it glowed as light shown on it.

Yes! There are rare and fiery color of eyes that often associates with the hereditary gene of a human, but this was different and unique, it glowed as each ray of light ran through them.

Thrain precluded the fact that he was who he thought he was, he took his gaze back, out the window, the figure wasn't there any longer.

Thrain! Thrain!!

The classroom teacher called out for Thrain, the one lost in his thoughts.

He slowly shifted his gaze towards the teacher, the classroom teacher's hand fell with a thud on his table, he trembled slightly as he was hit with a sudden surprise.

He knew it, he was in trouble, the classroom teacher hated diverted attentions while his class was going on.

The teacher smiled and gazed down intently at him, "Thrain, can you tell me the name of the process that converts light energy into chemical energy in plants?" he asked, hoping to catch him off guard.

But to his surprise, Thrain's head shot up, and he answered without hesitation.

"Photosynthesis, Mr. Thomas."

Mr. Thomas couldn't help but feel impressed. Thrain had never been one to participate in class, and he assumed he was just another lagging student of his. But his answer had been correct and quick.

The other students in the class looked just as surprised as Mr. Thomas felt. They had never seen Thrain show such initiative before.

Right after the question came out, a student sitting in the front whispered the answer gently and continued reading her book.

Thrain tried his best and focused his concentration to the maximum. "Photosynthesis," his super hearing finally picked up something that sounded like the answer.

The sound of the bell rang, signifying the end of the day's class.

"We'll continue in the next class, make sure your assignments are all done," said Mr. Thomas. "And Thrain, my eyes are on you... do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

The classroom began to get noisy as Mr. Thomas left. Thrain picked up his bag and fixed it securely on his right shoulder.

"You're leaving already?" Mark asked.

Thrain looked down at Mark, who was still settled in his seat. "Yeah, something is bothering me and making me feel uneasy," he said, glancing at the woods through the window. An image of a figure flitted through his mind again.

"We'll discuss it tomorrow."

He brushed past the tables, catching the attention of a girl with thin, old hair.

"Thank you," he muttered to her.

She felt a bit creeped out at first. "For what?" she finally asked, looking flustered.

Thrain, who never stopped walking, turned back and gave her a soft wink.

"Weird fellow," she muttered to herself, finally refocusing on her work.

...

Thrain put on his earplugs as he walked along the roadside. Without the earplugs, all he heard were murmurs, whispers, and gossip from the people around him. He hadn't fully learned to control his hearing abilities yet.

Woof! Woof!!

A dog barked at passersby, but as Thrain's eyes met the dog's gaze, the barking stopped and the dog sat back down. Thrain got closer, knelt down next to the dog, and ran his hands through its fur.

"We're kind of the same species now, so let's get along well," he said softly.

The dog tilted its head in response, as if understanding what Thrain had just said.

"Good! I'll name you Ruby." The dog barked in response. Thrain stood up and continued on his journey home.

Finally, he arrived home, but it was already late since he had stopped at a friend's place to play a Nintendo game...

"Thrain! You came home late again!" his mother shouted at him, causing him to cover his ears.

"I was busy studying with Mark, Mum!" Thrain said, putting his earplugs back in.

"Once your dad is back, he'll hear about this," his mother said, glaring at him intently.

The stairs creaked as Thrain slowly ascended them, his feet dragging along the rough carpet. He was exhausted after a long day of playing video games, and all he wanted to do was collapse into bed and forget about everything.

"Feel free to tell him, it's not like he has time for his family," he muttered to himself.

He reached the top of the staircase and, with a sigh of relief, headed towards his room. The sound of the door creaking was heard as he pushed it open slowly.

"What a naughty one, to make it my first."

Thrain's room was dark, and as he laid there, thoughts swirled incessantly in his mind. He felt an unshakable sense of loneliness. There was no one here to share his pain, no one to listen to his problems, and no one to tell him that everything would be alright.

He rolled over, burying his face into the unyielding pillow. His nose caught a familiar scent, the same one that lingered from school. It made him feel uneasy. He quickly rushed to his wardrobe, searching for any sharp object he could find. Finally, he grabbed hold of a chisel.

"What's a chisel doing in my wardrobe?" he thought, but he didn't have time to process it.

As he slowly shifted his gaze towards the window, he was met with a pair of glowing silver and gray-red eyes.

Thrain had never felt like that, ever since his first transformation. That feeling, a sense of oppression, like being looked down upon. All he wanted to do now was obey every command. At the same time, a thought rushed through him - his mother, was she safe?

Finally, the figure took off at an insane speed, barely visible to his eyes. He felt relieved, as if released from some sort of bondage.

"Now, it's clear, we are the same!" Thrain muttered to himself.

He regained his composure and headed into the bathroom to calm down. As he finally cooled off, he laid on his bed, pondering the situation. "But what does he want?" he wondered until he fell into a deep sleep.

...

¶Sometimes in our lives we all have pain¶

We all have sorrow

But if we are wise

We know that there's always tomorrow

Lean on me, when you're not strong

And I'll be your friend

I'll help you carry on

For it won't be long

'Til I'm gonna need

¶Somebody to lean on¶

Fiona and Ethan drove at high speed near the woods. The suspenseful song played loudly, heightening the tension in their hearts.

They entered the path that led into the woods, gradually slowing down. The trees began to blur together, and soon they were surrounded by darkness, making it hard to see beyond the road.

Suddenly, they noticed movement in the direction of the woods. They paused the song and listened intently. All was silent, except for the sound of crickets chirping in the background.

"Did you see that?" Fiona whispered.

"I don't know, let's keep going. Who the heck goes into the woods for something as lame as a picnic?" Ethan replied, his voice slightly raised. "I'm beginning to regret this decision."

Fiona turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. "And now it's my fault that you're here, huh?" she said, hitting the hood of the car in frustration.

Ethan was starting to get really angry. He wanted to shout at her, but there was one thing that was keeping him calm - the strange vibes emanating from the woods.

"If only that mystical legend-reading freak had agreed to come with us," he muttered, running his hand through his sandy brown hair. He paced back and forth in frustration.

"Yeah, Mark would have been better than you, a guy with anger issues. This is probably why you haven't found a girlfriend all this while."

"What did you just call me...?"

Once again, they noticed movement in the woods as leaves rustled. Ethan stopped his sentence halfway, spotting the glowing red eyes again, staring at them from within the tree line. Both gasped and quickly got back into the car.

"What? Now, of all times?" Ethan exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice. But the car wouldn't start.

The creature was already sprinting towards them. Ethan grabbed Fiona's hand. "There's no time for that, run!"

They both took off, running heavily without looking back, knowing that something was chasing them. They could hear the creature's feet thudding behind them. Fear fueled their desperation to escape.

After a while of running and panting heavily, Ethan finally came to a halt. The loud thuds made by the creature's feet were no longer audible. "I think we lost it!" he said, taking deep breaths with his hands on his knees.

"Fiona, let's find our way out of here. We'll come back for your car first thing after class tomorrow."

He turned his head to look at Fiona but found her frozen in fear. Her gaze was intense, piercing, and filled with fear. Slowly, he turned his head to see a towering, seven-foot tall, hairy wolf standing behind him.

"Fuck! This can't be real," he murmured under his breath.

Fiona snapped out of her frozen state and began to run once again. She was filled with a mix of desperation and adrenaline, not even sure what kept her moving - the will to live, perhaps? "Is Ethan still alive?" she wondered as tears streamed down her face.

Eventually, she couldn't gasp for breath anymore. Her legs grew sore, and she collapsed onto the ground, lying on her back while staring up at the starry sky.

"That was fast... and truly, it's my fault," she whispered to herself, hearing the heavy breathing of the creature above her. The creature swiped its hand across her head, knocking her out.

An alpha werewolf.

"Good morning! I hope you're feeling good now?" Mark said, staring down at Thrain as he sat next to him.

Thrain looked at Mark as if he were some sort of seer. Mark understood the look on his face. "Well, you told me before you left for home yesterday."

Finally, Thrain let out a sigh of relief as he adjusted well in his seat and took out a book. "Man! Have you done Mr. Thomas' assignment?" he asked Mark immediately as he remembered.

"Yeah," Mark replied, staring down at him.

"Please, let me have it."

Mark sighed and opened up the zip to his bag, taking out his assignment notebook. As soon as Thrain caught a glimpse of it, he grabbed it from him.

"Come to think of it, you left school very early yesterday and you're yet to do your assignment? This is the first year, and you are already slacking off," Thrain kept continuing to write without paying much attention to what Mark had just said.

"You aren't answering my questions, man!"

"Okay, okay, the thing was... I don't know, but yesterday in class I wasn't merely distracted..."

"But you got the answer right," Mark interrupted. Thrain stopped writing and stared at him.

"My bad! Continue."

"It felt like I was being stalked or watched, either of the two, and then I stared out the window..." Thrain paused his writing and looked at Mark. "I saw a figure with glowing red eyes."

Mark gazed at him emptily. "You made it up, right? Because it just doesn't sound real."

"Fuck! I know you won't believe... What does sound real to you?" Thrain said, almost raising his voice.

"Okay, I'm listening," Mark replied, staring blankly as he listened earnestly.

"At night yesterday, I saw another figure. It had the same red eyes. No! It was silver and gray, with red eyes."

"What? I hope you're being honest here?" Mark asked as Thrain's words finally caught his attention.

"Yeah, what's the problem?" Thrain asked.

Mark brought out an old, ancient journal and began flipping through its pages. The journal was filled with all sorts of strange hand-drawn diagrams. Thrain continued writing, thinking that Mark didn't want to take him seriously, but when he finished his assignment, he looked at Mark only to see him dripping with sweat.

"But it's winter, man," Thrain chuckled.

Mark slowly shifted his gaze down to Thrain and muttered a few words. "You've been marked."

"Marked? For what? By whom? And why?" Thrain asked, barely understanding what Mark had said.

"Good morning to you, my fresh students. I trust your night was good, since mine was the best..." a voice interrupted their conversation.

Mr. Thomas, their teacher, entered the classroom. "First things first, your assignments," he chuckled.

The students, including Mark and Thrain, began passing their assignment books to the front table.

"Good! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... 57, 58! Okay, now it remains two more assignment notebooks. If those two don't submit, I'll give them detention for a whole day," Mr. Thomas said.

"Mr. Thomas, Ethan and Fiona seem to be missing in class today," a student pointed out.

Mark stood up slightly, staring towards their seats to confirm if they really weren't in class. They had indeed skipped. He knew something would go wrong, which was why he declined their invitation yesterday. Who goes to a picnic in the woods at night, he thought to himself.

"Any reason why they aren't in school today?" Mr. Thomas asked, looking around the class.

"No, Mr. Thomas, they didn't say anything about it to any of us, I guess," another student answered.

"Okay, they have friends in this class, right?"

"Yeah, Mark and Thrain," the student replied, pointing his fingers at both of them.

"You guys should check on them and give reports tomorrow, am I clearly understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Thomas," they replied, looking blank.

"You seem to know where they went... right?" Thrain asked, his face showing curiosity.

Mark ignored him and kept his eyes fixated on the board. He didn't like being questioned, especially when he knew about it.

The class came to an end quickly. Mr. Thomas left the classroom after giving them the assignment, chuckling to himself.

Mark clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He stood up, placed his bag on his back, and signaled for Thrain to stand up.

"Are we leaving that early?" Thrain, who had been exhausted throughout the class, grumbled.

"Yes, I have to get to studying since I'm yet to know a lot," he replied.

"Huh! That doesn't sound like study to me... it's those mystical stuff again, right? You are yet to tell me what it means to be marked."

Mark gazed at Thrain for minutes before adjusting his glasses. "Later!" he muttered, leaving him standing. Thrain followed closely behind.

"Argh! This freak attitude of his, stylish snub, had resurfaced again."

Finally, they both arrived at Ethan's house. The house was not what Thrain had expected; it was a bungalow with an old structural design. The thing was, it was completely isolated. The house stood alone.

Thrain dusted his legs on a doormat he found closest to the door and began to knock. He knocked for minutes without getting any response. He called out for Ethan but still only received a resounding echo.

"Please, lift your foot off the mat," Mark requested, leaving Thrain wondering what he planned to do with a doormat.

Mark bent, lifted the doormat, and took the key placed underneath it.

"What! I've been shouting for minutes, and you stood there, knowing where the key was?" Thrain said kindly, losing his cool.

"Sorry, I just changed my approach, and it was obvious he wasn't home," Mark explained.

"I know, I just wanted to confirm," Thrain said, rubbing his nose. "But it took you so long?"

"No problem," Mark said, barging in. "Wow." Thrain stood there amazed. "The inside looks entirely different from the outside. And by the way, how do you know where he puts his key?"

"I've been here a few times," Mark replied.

Thrain began to reflexively look around, but he couldn't even find a picture of Ethan or his family.

"He lives alone," Mark said, as if he could read through Thrain's thoughts.

"Oh. No wonder it's so clean in here."

"Thrain, let's get going."

"Why? We haven't checked around some more."

Based on the condition of the house, it's obvious he didn't sleep at home last night.

"Huh. And how did you come to that conclusion?" Thrain asked.

"The table... it's dusty. Ethan has always been the clean type," Mark observed, using his sharp eye to scan the surroundings.

Thrain was left mesmerized, wondering how quickly Mark had noticed the details.

"So, where do we go next... Fiona's house?"

"No."

"Then where?"

"To the woods."

...

Mrs. Anderson walked into the police station, her heart heavy with worry and fear. She had never been there before, but she knew that this was where she needed to go to report her missing daughter, Fiona.

The receptionist looked up as she approached the desk, and Mrs. Anderson hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Excuse me, I need to report a missing person. My daughter."

The receptionist nodded sympathetically and motioned for her to take a seat while she called for an officer.

Mrs. Anderson sat down, her hands shaking as she tried to keep herself together. She couldn't imagine what could have happened to her daughter, who had always been so careful and responsible. It didn't make sense.

After what felt like hours, a tall, muscular man in uniform appeared and introduced himself as Officer Johnson. Mrs. Anderson explained the situation to him, tears streaming down her face as she spoke.

"She left home last night, assuring me she'll be home today after class," Mrs. Anderson said, her voice barely above a whisper now. "She's never gone back on her words before. I've tried calling her cell phone, but it keeps going straight to voicemail. I even visited her school, and they claimed not to have seen her around the school premises."

Officer Johnson listened carefully, jotting down notes as she went along. "Do you have any idea where she might have gone?" he asked.

Mrs. Anderson shook her head, feeling hopeless. "No, I don't. She's never given me any reason to worry before. I don't know what to do."

"We'll do everything we can to find her," Officer Johnson assured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Can you give me a recent photo of her and any other information that might be helpful? We would also need something that has her scent."

Mrs. Anderson nodded, grateful for the officer's kindness. She pulled up a recent picture of Fiona on her phone and dug into her bag to find a handkerchief that Fiona had recently used.

She handed them over to Officer Johnson with shaky hands. Mrs. Anderson answered his questions to the best of her abilities, desperate for anything that might help find her daughter.

"Mrs. Anderson, the investigation into your missing daughter will commence immediately, and I assure you we'll find her. So, I would like you to go home and maintain a positive mindset... I'll take my leave now," he said as he stood up from his seat and smiled at Mrs. Anderson before walking away.

Mrs. Anderson felt relieved and reassured that everything would be okay.

Mark and Thrain ventured deep into the woods, following the trail left by Fiona's car. The trail seemed endless and tiring, leading them further away from their destination. The eerie silence of the woods, broken only by rustling leaves and chirping crickets, sent shivers down their spines.

Suddenly, a rabbit darted out, causing Mark to freeze in fear before realizing it was harmless. They finally spotted the car in the distance and approached it cautiously. Thrain rushed towards the door, eager to open it, but Mark stopped him in his tracks.

"Are you crazy? Do you want to get me in trouble?" Mark exclaimed, pulling out four pairs of gloves from his school bag.

Thrain looked at Mark, puzzled by his actions. "Gloves? Are you insane?" Thrain questioned.

"You can't just touch things without caution. If we don't find them both and the case escalates, the police will get involved. If your fingerprints are found on the car, you could be seen as an accomplice. In the worst-case scenario, if they aren't found, you could become the prime suspect..." Mark explained.

"Yeah, I get it," Thrain interrupted, not wanting to hear more. He put on the gloves Mark threw at him and opened the car door to examine the inside. He tried starting the engine, but it was unresponsive. Mark observed his actions from a distance.

"No scratches on the car, but the engine is dead," Mark said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "They must have been chased by something."

As Mark stepped out of the car, he noticed large footprints deeply imprinted in the ground. "Probably around seven feet," Mark muttered.

"Thrain, come closer... isn't that in the direction of your house?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, so what does that have to do with anything?" Thrain replied, confused.

Ignoring Thrain's question, Mark turned and headed in the opposite direction. He was in problem-solving mode and didn't have time to explain. "Ethan would have run in that direction since he's smart, but he wouldn't last long," Mark stated.

"Why not?" Thrain asked, seeking clarification.

Mark glanced at Thrain and said, "He has poor stamina."

They followed the path Mark indicated and after what felt like hours, they found Ethan lying unconscious. Mark rushed to his side, calling out his name and shaking him, but there was no response. Thrain joined in, applying pressure to Ethan's chest.

"Mark, let's get out of here. It's getting late and dark," Thrain suggested, scanning their surroundings.

"What about Fiona?" Mark asked, worry etched on his face.

"The police will probably find her," Thrain reassured. He hoisted Ethan onto his shoulders, remarking, "Damn, he's heavy."

As Thrain carried Ethan, Mark looked at him strangely. "Come on, Mark! Fiona will be fine. Let's focus on finding a solution for Ethan," Thrain urged.

Before long, the sound of barking dogs signaled the arrival of the police. They had caught Fiona's scent and were closing in on the location. Officer Johnson swiftly ran towards Fiona, lifting her off the ground, and rushed her to a general hospital.

...

Mrs. Anderson's phone rang, and she anxiously answered it. "Hello, this is Mrs. Anderson," she said, hoping for good news.

"Mrs. Anderson, your daughter Fiona Anderson has been found," the voice on the other end informed her. Details of the hospital she had been admitted to would be sent via SMS.

As soon as she got the alert, she hurriedly drove to the hospital.

AT THE HOSPITAL

As Mrs. Anderson hesitantly entered her daughter's hospital room, she saw Fiona lying on the bed with her neck and some other parts of her body heavily bandaged. She had a pale look on her face. The room was quiet except for the sounds of the machines connected to her daughter's body.

Mrs. Anderson sat down on the chair next to Fiona's bed and reached over to hold her hand. Fiona's fingers were cold and clammy. Mrs. Anderson's heart felt heavy as she ran her eyes over Fiona's wounds.

"How are you feeling, my love?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

"Not good, mom," she replied with a weak voice barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Anderson felt a lump in her throat. She had always been strong for her daughter, but seeing her in such a vulnerable state made her feel hopeless.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Fiona," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I should have never allowed you to go out so late at night."

"It's not your fault, mom," said Fiona, squeezing her mother's hand. "It was just an unfortunate incident."

Mrs. Anderson shook her head. "I can't stand to see you like this. I wish I could take away your pain."

Fiona smiled weakly. "Just being here with you is enough, mom."

Mrs. Anderson leaned in and hugged her daughter tightly, careful not to touch the bandages. She felt Fiona's tears on her shoulder, and she stroked her hair softly.

"Everything will be okay, my love," she whispered softly. "I won't leave your side until you're better."

"But mom... What about your work?" Fiona said, twitching her mouth.

"Don't worry about that," Mrs. Anderson reassured her. "I'll take care of it. Right now, my priority is you. Just focus on healing and getting better."

Mrs. Anderson kissed Fiona's forehead and settled back down in the chair. She held her daughter's hand, watching as her daughter drifted off to sleep.

The doctor came into the room to check on Fiona's health. He checked her temperature, heartbeat, and blood pressure, and all were within normal range.

"When do you think my daughter will be able to leave the hospital... I mean, when will she be fully healed?" Mrs. Anderson asked anxiously.

The doctor looked at Fiona's chart and then back at Mrs. Anderson. His jaw dropped as he realized something.

"It's incredible," the doctor muttered, removing the bandage on Fiona's back. To his surprise, there was no sign of any wound. It was clean and spotless as if she had never been bitten in the first place.

"It's completely healed?" the doctor exclaimed, amazed.

....

Meanwhile, in a dark forest clearing, the air was thick with the scent of earth and musk as a pack of werewolves gathered under the moonlit sky. Their yellow eyes glinted with anticipation, while their sharp teeth were bared.

Zane, the alpha of the pack, stepped forward, his massive and muscular form exuding power. His piercing red eyes scanned the pack.

"My brothers and sisters," he began, his voice low and commanding. "We have much to discuss tonight. Our territory has been threatened by the vampires once again. They have been encroaching on our land, destroying and hunting our prey. We cannot allow this to continue."

A snarl erupted from within the pack. They knew Zane had done something wrong.

"Zane! Did you forget the purpose of the Infinite Growlers?" a wolf growled, accusingly.

Zane sighed. "No, I remember. They were created to unite different species against the vampires' atrocities," he admitted, a hint of fear in his voice.

"Then why did you bite those college students? Are you trying to increase your authority as an alpha within the pack secretly?"

Zane quickly defended himself. "No! I felt a strong connection with those two, and I had no choice but to turn them into betas of our pack."

The alpha clenched his fists before finally sighing. "Very well. They are now your responsibility. Take ownership of your actions."

Zane felt relieved that he wasn't severely reprimanded. The pack depended on his strength, and casting him aside would be a waste. However, the alpha wanted to ensure Zane had no ulterior motives.

The alpha continued addressing the pack. "Now, there is a young man I want to introduce into our pack. He is a lone wolf, an omega."

The wolves exchanged surprised glances. An omega was usually considered weak, without a pack to provide support and protection.

"An Omega? Who is he for you to personally want to introduce him to the pack?" another alpha asked.

"This young man defies all sense of what we've known about our kind. As an omega, a werewolf without a pack, he or she is meant to be weak," Zane explained. "But this young man appears to be exceptional. I used an alpha's dominance on him, and all he did was flinch. His pure sheer force of will... he is rare."

The whole pack was shocked at what they heard.

"Perhaps he was an alpha before he was probably kicked out of his pack," a beta said.

"Well, that's it on his case. Our scouts have reported that a group of hunters is finally active and planning on setting up in our territory. We must act swiftly and decisively. We will show them we are not to be trifled with."

The alpha's words were met with a chorus of howls. They knew that a battle was coming but were ready to fight and go all out.

As the meeting came to a close, they dispersed into the night.

...

"He has become who you are."