He dreams in muted colors, the washed pallete of a full moon. On all fours, he prowls the forest—black, leathery nose pressed to the hard earth, tracking her scent. It's a messy, dogged pursuit down to the riverbed but there she is at last—barefoot and wading out from the shallow water to meet him. His glassy golden eyes roll skyward and he feels his bones begin to shift and reform themselves back into a human shape; it is a brief and painless affair. He experiments with flexing his fingers, grasping at the open placket of her short denim coat as she nears, yanking her the rest of the way forward to land against his bare chest. Her slight but powerful arms move to encircle his neck and his hands resettle upon the delicate curve of her waist. "Caroline," he whispers aloud in the brief interim before she crushes her lips to his with such bruising force that he can't help but release a quiet whimper.

His mother's antique clock noisily heralds the turn of morning into afternoon from the upstairs hall, startling him from his deep and fevered sleep. For a moment Tyler can only lay there in perturbed silence while he takes shaky breaths. The tenting of his boxers has never been more apparent.

He's just barely managed to drag himself out of bed when he first hears the knock, shortly followed by the unmistakable chirp of her voice. Only half-dressed in loose cotton pants and with a toothbrush dangling haphazardly from out the corner of his mouth, he rips open the door and prepares to give her his best withering glare. "Impatient much?" he means to snap as well, but it only comes out as a strangely hoarse wheeze at the sight of her.