This will be rewritten at some point after I have a good idea of how the plot flows and what kind of character development I want in it--that's the big problem here, I want more dialogue and development in this scene, but not sure how to do that.



Wolvenhelm.
It was one of those peculiar words that came from someone who knew enough English to redo it from their native language into English so that people would say it right. This one was a bit more twisted than usual, but it did blend the Nordic roots well with getting Americans to say it right. The population of the town was about five hundred, with a few thousand more scattered around the county. Frank yawned. They'd been driving for two hours after getting off the highway to get here. His adopted father's job interview was with a small machine shop in town, which he'd claimed would be perfect—plenty of space for frank to run around, maybe even make friends that weren't gangsters. The town had a reputation for frequent wolf sightings though, which were rumored to be werewolves. The idea of werewolves both excited the young man and filled him with trepidation. A scent that barely penetrated the SUV's heater and vents prickled at the back of his mind.
Greg steered the SUV to the large steel sided buildings at the opposite end of town. A faded sign announced the fact that it was the “Old Wolf Machine Shop.” Noise could be heard behind a large overhead door, but when the family unloaded, they took the glass door that said “office” on the sign. He was hit in the nose by the scent of wolves. He'd hung out with a few other lycanthropes back in Pheonix, but it was nothing like this. A werewolf smelled much like a dog, a musky earth odor that the town stank of.
The inside of the office was still heated against late spring chill, and the decor strove to give an old west feel despite the LCD monitors and the hum of computers. Rather than cattle though, the pictures on the walls were of the machines in the shop, various intricate parts they had produced, and well drilling rigs. His examination of a tricone drill bit sitting on the table was interrupted by a man coming in through a door towards the back, preceded by the thump of his boots. It was only when he looked at him that he realized he was smelling another werewolf. Greg moved forward to introduce himself but stopped when he realized the two were staring at each other. Frank took a step back and the man shook himself before turning to Greg.
“Sorry, my name's Ludolf. You must be Greg.” He extended a hand for a handshake, which was accepted, but before he could throw himself into his automatic job pitch, Lowell had turned back to Frank, and again extended his hand. “You mentioned looking for an answer on the phone, perhaps you've found it.” He said over his shoulder. To Frank, he said, “Hi, my name's Ludolf, you can call me Lou, welcome to Wolvenhelm. It can be a bit odd for newcomers here, but we are the whole point of the place.” He smiled.
The secretary looked over, then back to her work. Frank looked up at Lou and said, “I don’t get it.”
“You will. Since you’re here for a few days, I’d suggest you come to the howl out at my place. We’ll be able to explain a lot more out there. Until then, you’ll have to excuse me, I need to see if Greg can handle this as well.” He turned and gestured Greg back towards the shop, and started explaining the company. “Plenty of places offer rework and manufacturing. We’re one of the closer shops to Brakken that offers both, but we’re far enough away that we don’t get swamped with all the emergency work from the oilfield. We’re close enough though that delivery is cheaper and faster than Casper or beyond.” After donning safety glasses, they went through the door into noise.
Most of the machines were running something, creating a background of noise that kept even a raised voice from carrying far. “What was all that about back there?” He gestured backwards.
“You do know the kid is a werewolf, right?” Lou asked? Greg nodded.
“Over half the population of Wolvenhelm is therian—werewolves and the like. Most of the rest, and a lot of the county, know that. The secret is kind of in plain sight, but causes surprisingly little trouble.” He gestured to the machines. “Moving here would be good for the lad, but I believe our current focus is me employing you as a business manager. We can discuss fur and tails later. If you please.” He crossed his arms and looked at the man until he put his eyes down and shifted his mental gears.
Greg was somewhat distracted during the rest of the interview, but the manager knew his job as well as the machinist next to him knew his. His wife and Frank were invited out briefly to see some of the machines, and Lou made sure they had the address to his house.
“Just about everyone goes to howls, even those that aren’t therian. We try to keep them small and spread them out otherwise the whole town would shut down once a month. It’s just an opportunity to blow off steam and have some fun. Helps keep us sane. You might pick up a bite to eat first though, not all the food is intended for a human palette.” He shook hands again, making sure to get Frank’s this time, and saw them off to sightsee for a few hours before the howl.