A fabled wall, marking the territory of the werewolves and adorned with the severed skull of a once great alpha, stands between Natalya and her prey.
When she finds the body of Anesa, her beloved mentor, she is determined to hunt down the vampire r...
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Like ghosts, the two werewolves streaked through the trees. They headed towards the Valwood border, their lithe bodies seemingly floating above the ground. They slowed only after they had passed through the gate, fading into the forest as ethereally as any true wolves. Only their eyes exposed them for what they truly were, the cloudy whites casting twin flares of light that glowed slightly within the forest. Their ears rotated above them, straining to hear every noise while their noses pulled in every scent, sifting through them for signs of the humans.
The two scouts were formidable males, chosen for their imposing size and keen senses. They had waited for the full moon to disguise them as true wolves, and now they wandered along the tree line on opposite sides, staying just out of sight of the watchtowers that ringed the perimeter of the forest. The buildings stood dark and undisturbed in the distance while the majority of Valwood slept. Only the flickering firelight from the towers gave life to the night, and the muffled voices from them came easily to the werewolves' ears.
They listened intently to them speak, though the late night musings of the Watchmen held no interest to the werewolves. Their talk was unfettered by the fear or apprehension one would expect before a war, so the werewolves focused their attention elsewhere.
For several minutes, they continued along their chosen trails, noses to the ground sniffing intently. Finally one of them looked up. He stood rigid; only his nose quivered as an unfamiliar scent entwined itself around him.
What is it? The other werewolf asked, snorting in distaste at the intruding scent.
I'm not sure, he answered back. Something powerful.
The hairs along their backs involuntarily rose and their senses slashed through the night. They were instantly alert for any threat to reveal itself, but as the night lightened, their fears gradually began to abate. Only a man could be seen in the distance, wrapped in midnight fog, but the darkness concealed the werewolves as well. He had come alone; no other human scents intermingled with his. He walked with purpose towards them but without any sign that he had sighted them. The werewolves watched warily through the trees as he passed under the full moon's light, a man turned silver. He approached them, carrying what appeared to be a long metal staff, though he did not wield it as one.
The night was abruptly split by a deafening crack as fog and smoke integrated. A horrible keening cry could be heard through the din, and a mixture of sulfur and metal scents lingered in the air. One of the werewolves lay on his side, bleeding from a wound in his flank.
Two more shots sounded as the other werewolf rushed at the man, but the projectiles whizzed harmlessly past him. He flung himself at the human with such viciousness that the weapon had flown from his hands and landed in the grass beside them. The man fell to the forest floor, and the second werewolf buried his fangs into his throat as he hit the ground. He continued his bloody work, ripping and tearing with his fangs until he was sure the man would never rise again.
