This is dedicated to Saeger, without whom most of this would probably never have been written. I hope you enjoy the retelling.

(View: a cloudy night sky. Occasional rips in the cloud cover allow stars to shine through. The camera pans slowly across until a hole shows the waning crescent moon.)

J.

Are you certain?

T.

Yes.

(Camera tilts down to show several hills, mostly dark and forested. Over the next exchange it should zoom in on one of middle hills, showing a clear grassy area butting up against the trees.)

J.

You won’t ever be able to change the decision.

T.

Doesn’t matter.

(Beat. Camera tips to the right, showing a dark area beneath a very old oak tree. There is a very dim silhouette of two people, one leaning back against the tree, the other seated cross-legged in front.)

T. (con't)

It’ll get rid of… of the… the change. How could I not want it?

J.

Remember, you’re only trading one change for another –

T.

-Only if I’m not careful. (camera flicks in on a quick smile and flicks out again) Could you really call me anything but?

J.

No. But there are times, despite caution –

(The seated figure lifts a hand.)

T.

Then I’ll deal with those when they happen.

(Flash: a blurry white figure darting through a forest. A man, running, with a terrified expression.)

J. (voice-over)

You will not remember yourself when they do.

(View: the man, laying on the ground, head tilted backward, neck obviously broken, with blood running out of a gash lower on his throat. Sound of growling.)

T. (voice-over)

Well, that’s hardly worse than this, then, is it?

(View slips into another dark forest, an enormous wolf in hot pursuit of a doe. When it catches up it grabs the doe's leg, breaking it, and then rends the deer eagerly, ripping open the abdominal cavity. Time-elapse. The doe fades out into forest. There is a huddled shape beneath one of the trees, and the sound of hitching breath. Beat.)

J. (voice-over)

True.

(Forest fades to the hill-top beneath the oak. The panting slows to a continuous soft breathing.)

T.

I don’t mind having to hunt, and I don’t like garlic – or silver – anyways. And I’ve waited six months.

J. (quiet laugh)

No, you’re not that fond of silver, are you?

T. (wry)

Not much, no. It burns too badly. (beat – quieter) Besides, I’ll be able to stay around you.

J.

Becoming sentimental, are we?

T.

You know very well what I mean. I already lost her – and all the others. I’m not losing my last.

J. (sighing)

I thought you might say as much. (beat) One last time – are you absolutely certain that you want this?

T.

Yes. (beat) There is nothing I want more.

J.

Very well. (beat) Come here.

(The cross-legged figure (T.) starts to stand, hesitates, drops back down to hands and knees and crawls the three feet to the one leaning against the tree. J. puts an arm out; T. turns to lean against the tree beside J. J puts an arm around T. and pulls T. closer. T.’s movements should be stiff and awkward.)

J. (con't)

It will not hurt, not for more than a moment.

T.

I remember. You told me before.

J.

Good.

(Beat. J. tugs a bit at T; T. doesn’t move.)

J. (con't)

I thought you said you remembered? Relax, please. It’s easier then.

T. (shifting a bit)

Sorry. It’s hard to sit still, when…

J. (softly, sfx: voice resonates, contains multiple octaves)

It’s fine. Just relax…

(T. seems to slump into J.’s side)

J. (con't)

Better.

T.

Mm…

(Camera flashes upon teeth, very white and slightly pointed, then pans in time to catch a moon-beam skittering across a bared throat. There is a quick GASP, and the camera draws back to show J. bent over T. as T. shivers and tries to scoot backwards.)

J. (sfx)

Shh…. You’re fine….

(T. slows and then stops moving. The sound of breathing slows and dims until it is nearly impossible to hear. Camera focuses on T.’s chest, moving slowly up and down. Beat. Camera pulls out to catch a very quick flash of white teeth against the underside of a wrist, and blood flowing from the resultant gash; the blood should look black, not red, in the darkness. The camera follows the wrist as it moves to press the gash against a pair of lips, staying just long enough to see some of the blood trickle down the side of the face, then pulling back to show the entire oak against the night sky. There is a SUCKLING sound and a low MOAN.)

J. (con't, crooning, sfx, speaking slower and slower as the words continue)

Yes, that’s it, that’s right… Good, good….

(Camera pans across the cloudy sky again as the suckling sound slows down and then stops. The sound of breathing should be very faint and very slow.)

J. (con't, softly, no sfx)

Tired?

T. (very quiet)

Yes.

J. (softer)

Sleep, then, my friend.

(Beat. The camera leaves the sky and moves back to the dim shapes in the oak’s shadow. Beneath it we should be able to just make out T.’s shape curled about J., and J.’s hand moving over T.’s hair.)

T. (slurred)

Will you wake me in the morning?

J.

Of course.

T.

Okay. G’night…

J.

Good night.

(Camera turns in a circle, gradually pulling back, to cover the forest, and for the first time we see city lights not too far off. By the time it completes the circle it should be far enough out so that we can see the whole oak again. It pulls directly up until the moon comes into focus, hovers, and fades out. Scene end.)