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You can tell the path Roe takes through the town because it's the one that's the least overgrown.
There's his house, which he has maintained the absolute best he can given the circumstances. There is the drug store, which is mostly empty but is occasionally useful for blankets. There is the library, which he now has the run of, and which he slowly has been "rescuing" books from. There is the little park, which he maintains sometimes.
Everything else is in disrepair.
Roe is in his house for the moment, when he hears a strange noise outside. He leaves to investigate because he doesn't have anything else to do.
He's not suicidal, exactly, but it's been harder and harder to care about his own safety when he's been so alone all this time.
Mueller has heard that there's a werewolf in this area. Not necessarily a harmful one, but enough proof of habitation in an otherwise abandoned section of Maine that he considers it worth checking out.
He's noticed the signs of habitation. They definitely do not make him think werewolf, but he can't think of many other explanations for the smell of human without being filled with dread.
Roe notices the presence of a stranger more quickly than Mueller might expect. He appears, holding something mean and metal looking. He doesn't have any sort of particularly strong expression on his face.
"What are you doing here?" he asks. His voice is scratchy, as though from ill-use. He doesn't smell like werewolf. He doesn't smell quite human anymore either.
"Looking for something wrong," Victor says. "Are you that something wrong?"
He doesn't point the gun at the shivering teenager. Not yet.
"I'm looking for the kind of person that can be an animal," he says. "You seen that?"
Roe shakes his head. "Those kinds of people aren't real."
He says it carefully, like he's not quite lying.
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