With the help of the newspaper vendor, we’re sent back to Lola Magda’s house via a three-cycled vehicle in no time. Lola Magda assists me to a bamboo bench just right outside her nipa house. The water that she’s given me dislodges the terrorizing heat in my chest and my stomach. When the vendor drives the vehicle away, leaving us alone, Lola Magda doesn’t waste time throwing questions at me.
“Do you wanna go to the hospital?”
Her face and voice are cloaked with concern. I shake my head as a response.
“Do you have an illness that I should know about?”
I gulp the last remaining water from the glass first before answering in a hush voice, “This is a werewolf thing.”
Lola Magda squints her eyes, creating more wrinkles beside them. Her unstated confusion manifests on her face which provok
