“Animals don’t have communities. It’s bloody tooth and claw out there, honeybunny.”
“No!”
“Yes! And I’ve got bloodier teeth than Dahmer.”

“So what kind of shifter are you?” she asked.
“I asked first.”
“No you didn’t, you just stated,” she said, turning back to look at him.
Campbell grinned at her.
“Oh, c’mon, doc,” she said, “I drink carrot juice at twilight, have a fine pair of legs, if I do say so myself, and a winning smile.” She grinned hugely, showing off denture-white front teeth like two tabs of gum. “Do I have to wear my Playboy T-shirt to give you a hint?”
“Say no more! I’m badger.”
She looked closely at him. He got on his best embarrassed smile.
C’mon, c’mon, he thought. Look at the hair.
She glanced at the stripes of gray showing through at the center of his hair.
“What kind of badger?”
“Just the usual,” he said quickly.
“Could it be stink badger?”
“No, no!” he said, thinking it was unfortunate he couldn’t fake a blush, too.
“You’re a were-skunk!”
Campbell slumped his shoulders.

“Wolves aren’t savage loners. That’s fairytale talk.”
Campbell laughed. “Oh there’s wolves stalking the night out there, you can be sure.” He’d only met two other werewolves, both crazy as hyenas on acid.
“Not many. Lone wolves have like half the life expectancy of wolves in healthy packs.”

“The real risk in advocating for the endangered Malone Jumping Slug,” said a moderator, “is looking ridiculous.”