Later, after I'd shifted back and put on clothes (at Elowen's insistence), we sat together in the living room while Rowan typed furiously on her laptop.
"Werewolves," she muttered. "Werewolf lore. Werewolf origins."
"You're not going to find anything useful on Google," Elowen said.
"You'd be surprised what you can find on Google at 2 AM with the right search terms." Rowan's fingers flew across the keys. "Okay, so most of this is garbage. Hollywood stuff, horror movie crap. But there's some older folklore that's interesting."
I watched her work, fascinated by the way her eyes moved across the glowing screen. Reading. Something I could do but didn't understand how.
"Here." Rowan turned the laptop toward us. "Irish werewolf legends. There are stories about the faoladh — wolf-men who were
