Talk to Nasey.

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Thank you all for tuning in and now time for the story.

Of course the Howler exists, Todd says, an air of defensiveness about him.

He shoves a sausage-like finger against my chest and leans his jowly face close to mine.

You're just denying it to act tough in front of the younger kids, trying to make me look stupid.

I want to tell Todd I don't have to try and make him look stupid,

because he does a good job enough of that on his own.

I want to, but I don't, because Todd is twice my size with a fuse at his short,

and could probably snap me like a twig.

I'm just saying it's a silly urban legend, I say.

There isn't any such thing as werewolves or howlers or whatever you want to call it.

It's made up.

Todd and I have known each other for years.

We both grew up attending Dogbone Summer Camp,

and now that we were 14, we'd both become junior camp counselors,

which is really just a fancy way of saying we got to herd kids to and from camp activities.

Then how'd all those kids go missing?

One of the younger campers pipes up.

I feel myself tense.

Another kid jumps in.

...