Destined Fur More

Commence Fist Pump

A/N: First of all, there is a legitimate reason why I have about 09348509235823 author's notes. Stop complaining and bear -sp?- with me.

Thanks for your reviews though, guys! FIFTY-SIX? -COMMENCE FIST PUMP- I LOVE YOU GUYS YOU KEEP ME ALIVE AND I REALLY LIKE BEING ALIVE AND I KNOW I SAY THAT A LOT BUT THAT'S CAUSE IT'S TRUE.

I do feel a bit guilty, as I've only written about 400 words from the next chapter... But hey, there's more author monologuing that you guys'll love...? Yeah, okay. I'll start writing now. I also just realized how weird this a/n is because I'm talking about the chapter you guys just finished reading... Well, I'll put it first this time. :p

Sorry. No more typing to myself.

I spent a good ten minutes to get Graham awake. Honestly, when everyone makes fun of old people because they're always sleeping and stuff? That's because it's true.

Way too true.

Teague kept freaking out about his 'seizure', because he'd never had one before and 'he might have gotten them from me'. I simply glared and slapped his face. Hard.

(A/N: Aight, so I'm sitting here eating carrots while typing, right? Well, it's also WAY FREAKING ANNOYING. Especially with your iPod in and that's all you can hear is: crunch,crunch CRUNCH CRUNCHIDY CRUNCH CRUNCH. Like, honestly, I want to punch me in the face. If you guys could hear me right now, you would probably virtually knee me in the adrenal glands. Sorry about the interlude. I find it hard to concentrate on typing while fighting off the desire to hit me in the throat. :p Anywho: As you were.)

Though I probably should've told him, I figured I'd better clear this with Cracker: The Boss Of Everything Right Now Because He Is Involved In The Convention For Shape-Shifting Folks. Besides, he hadn't told me what I was until I'd actually changed. Or, rather, five minutes beforehand. Maybe he was just an asshole, but I didn't want to get impaled on his fucking huge bear teeth.

"CRACKER. GET. YOUR. WRINKLED. ASS. UP." I screamed, trying my best not to jump on him and break his brittle, weak, old-person bones. "I'M NOT FUCKING AROUND, CRACKER."

He still didn't respond.

My eyes narrowed.

I stomped out of his room, glaring at Teague, who just happened to be curled up in a ball. "Fisher, I don't want to die…" He muttered, "I don't want to have another attack…"

The tone of his voice was quite pitiful, but I figured that if I, teenage female, had taken this better than him, he deserved a good, metaphorical slap in the face. "Go get some Tylenol." I growled, "That'll help."

Teague gave me a look suggesting he would eat me if it would ease pain.

I threw him a glare that suggested I would eat him just so he would shut up. "Seriously. Go back into town and buy some great, powerful sleepy drugs." I then turned back to the bedroom, "GRAHAM, I'M GIVING YOU ONE. MORE. WARNING."

No response other than Teague's: "What if I get one driving, huh? The speed limit is eighty. I'll crash and die. That won't help me." He muttered.

I turned around to give him a seething glare. "You have another day before the next 'attack'. You'll be fine. Go get drugs and pass out so I don't have to add you to my list of things I'm going to procrastinate on, okay? Okay." I snarled, stomping back into Graham's room and ripping off his sheets. He kicked around for a second, but then stilled and didn't move.

Good. I'd always wanted to do this.

Stomping into the bathroom, I found a decent sized container and let the tap fill it up with icy-cold water. I then lugged the bucket up into my arms, barely noticing Teague expression of Oh-Shit-Ima-Go-Buy-Them-Drugs-Now and flew out the door. He didn't want to be here when I woke Graham up.

Poor boy would be missing out.

Stomping into Graham's room as if to warn him of my bucket, I stood directly over him with a sour expression. Glaring like he aware of me glaring, I lifted the bucket over his face, hesitating only for a second before tipping the bucket and letting the dam break all over Graham's aged face.

The moment the water touched his delicate wrinkles, Graham flew upwards in his bed. Within about two seconds, the entire content of the bucket was splayed across his jammies and sheets like a bad accident when he was five.

There was a moment of complete silence.

Then: "FIIIIIIISHEEEEEEEER!"

I grinned, probably more pleased than I should've been by his expression. Shrugging, I said, "I warned you, like, five times."

Cracker's eyes were on fire, despite every other body part being soaking wet. "I am going to KILLyou, Fisher Keller!" Graham screamed, then to add melodrama: "KILL." He jumped out of his bed quite springy for someone of his age, hands extended and ready to wrap themselves around my neck. I quickly realized the gravity of the situation.

My eyes popped out of my head and I ran like hell for the door. Thankfully, I didn't run into it and made it all the way into the 'kitchen' before my shin thought it would be best for it to run into an end table. Shrieking as I soared into the ground, Graham's near-sightedness didn't see me until I was right under his feet and he, too, came tumbling down.

Normally I might have a sense of 'Oh-God-No-An-Old-Person-Fell-They-Are-Gonna-Die', but because it was either Graham or I doing the dying, I flew to my feet and ran out the door.

Luckily, Teague had just pulled out of the gravel driveway. I hurled myself at the passenger door, pounding on it until I realized it was unlocked. Throwing myself into the cab, I screamed, "GO, TEAGUE! GO! BEFORE HE GETS ME!"

Teague had no idea what was going on, so he just slammed the gas. The truck didn't move.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE, TEAGUE! HE'S GOING TO EAT MY LIVER!"

"I'M TRYING!" He screamed back, frantically switching gears.

"YOU DRIVE A FUCKING STICK-SHIFT? GO, GO, GO! I SEE HIM!"

The truck violently jerked forward and we flew out of the small clearing containing Graham's cabin. Cracker in the doorway disappeared behind the dense shrub.

My breathing slowed when we pulled onto the main road, and I allowed my shoulders to relax. "Holy shit…" Teague muttered, eyes huge, "I think I need new pants."

I cast him a look of horror, but he laughed at my expression. "Kidding, Fisher." Teapot snickered, "Totally kidding,"

Glaring, I looked out the window and was caught with a small sense of déjà-vu. The sun was setting, and I wondered if all of this had really happened in just one day.

I'd woken up this morning and fell down a ladder onto Teague; I'd only eaten breakfast, if that was even a possibility with one piece of chicken. I was almost killed by an axe named Bertha, and with said named axe, I permanently scarred Teague's little toe. I had a staring contest and won, only to discover I had a 'terminal' disease, which wasn't really terminal, but rather loosing human form every once in a while.

There were not just humans on the earth, but shape-shifters, vampires, and Readers. Graham, Teague (not yet, but eventually), and I were half-animal. Vampires were pretty self-explanatory, though I wouldn't believe they were real until I saw one. My mind was now focused on the 'Readers'.

What could they do? Did they stay locked up in a library their whole lives and grew heads the size of melons they were so intelligent? Could they cast spells and turn me into a newt? Did they have special abilities differing from shape-shifting?

These question would have to wait at least a week before getting answers.