Ivan
At least one of these pups was a werewolf.
I don't know which one, but I know it. Their scent is that of a wolf; they know I'm there. I don't think it's the oldest, though she's focused on her mother and their conversation, so it's hard to tell. The other two are much younger. One might be three, and he's busy eating a hotdog. That leaves the little one. She looks like a year old, maybe less so, and she's looking around.
That's when her eyes find me, and I'm frozen on the bench.
