Monte contacted Dawson when he realized something was wrong with Hattie. And that it had more to do with their bond than any stimulants.

After Monte had whisked Hattie out of the drug den, he'd gone towards Dawson's residence. For the head of a school, his home was opulent, with manicured gardens and rich furnishings. It was easy to forget his appearance belied his age and history.

They sat in Dawson's parlour. The esteemed head of the Mage Academy was still in his pajamas. His red hair poked out from a navy blue polka dotted night cap. Shia was hidden, which she always was, unless something compelled her to reveal herself.

Dawson wasn't clear on what had gone down. All he knew was that Monte had sent him an emergency call for help. He rubbed his eyes. "Miss Hattie, what happened?"

There was silence.

Dawson pressed on, confused, "Why isn't Miss Hattie talking? Monte, what on earth did you do?" Hattie’s eyes narrowed at those words, but Dawson’s tone most of all.

Silence again reigned. Tension bubbled. Dawson rubbed his eyes again, and waited for a response.

What Dawson didn’t know was that Monte and Hattie were in the midst of a struggle. Monte reigned Hattie in, as she wanted to leap at Dawson’t throat. Her fury burned. Dawson insulted her packmate! He ought to know not to be rude to Monte. He needed to be scolded. At least a light nip--that would teach him!

Monte prevented her from violence, but Hattie growled at Dawson. Then for good measure she bared her teeth.

Dawson startled. Hattie’s teeth were fanged.

Dawson tried to reach out to Hattie telepathically, but she rebuffed him. Coherent words were beyond her at the moment.

[You’re not going to get any sense out of her right now. Let me tell you what happened,] Monte said when he was sure Hattie wouldn’t try to maim Headmaster Dawson. [Hattie went with Vivianne to celebrate finishing their exams,] Monte said, [When her senses started bleeding into me. It disorientated me for a moment, it was so intense. I could feel that she was sick, and that she was overheating. It worried me, so I made my way to the house. Then I felt a bloodlust from her, which I’ve never felt before. Hattie gets irritated, but bloodlust? Never. So I barged in and found her-and felt her-about to tear someone’s throat out.]

Monte growled when he finished, his agitation peaking.

[Dawson, you better explain this. Now.]

Dawson sat quietly for a few minutes. He conferred with Shia.

"It’s only a guess," Dawson said, "But Shia and I think that when Hattie initiated the familiar bond...it actually considered Monte the dominant partner to some extent. Since he's technically more able bodied. Not that you aren't, Miss Hattie." Dawson added in haste.

"So, it considered boosting Monte's intelligence a boon, and for Miss Hattie...feral instincts and the means to use them."

"I think your humanity was suppressing it all this time, and your use of...stimulants, tonight, loosened it into being." He paused. “Is Miss Hattie registering any of this? Miss Hattie?”

[It’s weird,] Monte said, [Hattie’s there, but she’s foggy. I think her logic is drowning in the impulses and instincts. I don’t think you trying to talk to her is helping.] She was still upset at Dawson for the perceived insult to Monte.

Dawson sighed.

“Let’s get you both to bed, and we can sort this out in the morning. Maybe the rest will give Miss Hattie back her equilibrium.” Dawson stood up, "The room on the left at the end of the hall is open. I'm going back to bed."

Monte led Hattie down the hall to the room Dawson had said was available. They settled down.

[Good night, Hattie. Please...please be better tomorrow.]

Hattie fell asleep, but Monte spent a while wide awake. As bad scenarios ran through his mind, his fur bristled. When sleep overtook him, there were no happy dreams.

Morning sun filtered through a window. Hattie sat up and groaned. "I feel old again." She felt even less spry than before she'd bonded with Monte.

[Hattie? Are you back to normal?] Hope laced his words.

“Back to normal?” Hattie squinted her eyes. This wasn’t her cubby hole at the academy.

[You went feral last night.]

“Goodness,” Hattie mentally scrutinized the events of the evening prior. The blood drained from her face as she remembered last night’s events, in detail, “Goodness, I made a right fool of myself.” Hattie swung her legs out of the bed, "Monte, don't let me near drugs or alcohol ever again."

Monte chuckled through the bond, and relief entered his heart. He made a point of rubbing his head along Hattie’s arm. Hattie stroked his fur, a bit absent, as she worried, “I’d better apologize to Headmaster Dawson. What a kind fellow, taking us in like this.”

She got up and was about to turn the nob, when the door opened.

It was Dawson, "Is Miss Hattie functioning?"

[She is,] Monte said.

Dawson caught sight of Hattie. His eyes held a frantic gleam, "Someone’s been looking for you, Miss Hattie. Actually, a few someones. But I’m only letting you talk to them one at a time, after what happened yesterday.”

Dawson was frazzled. As much as he liked Hattie, this bordered into too much trouble. His home was being invaded, he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, and there was a school to run.

On Hattie's end, confusion reigned. How did anybody, much less several people, know her whereabouts? She smoothed her rumpled, day old clothes down as best as she could. She and Monte exchanged a curious glance.

Dawson walked Hattie to the kitchen, to her first guest. Dawson mentioned her other visitor was waiting in his parlour. They stepped into the kitchen.

Flounces of pink silk and ribbons were the first thing Hattier registered. They were familiar, as Hattie had laundered them.

“Miss Hattie! I was so worried about you!” and all those ruffles and soft waves of fabric ensconced Hattie.

It was Clementine, Duke Soliman’s youngest daughter.