Silver Bullet, Seraph’s Sword

Lancaster: Wolf Mercenary

Klove glanced at Hannover, making sure he was still there. After a few moments of watching his chest rise and fall in a deep sleep, she slipped out of bed and opened the glass doors to her balcony. She stood in the archway, the soft breeze swirling her silk lavender nightgown around her ankles, and tilted her head at him with a pensive gaze. Blinking away a tear, she stepped outside to the railing. The moonlight spilled across her chestnut hair, the fabric on her robe, and sparkled on her skin like fairy glitter. Would it ever stop? Would it ever let her sleep?

Her eyes panned the ostentatious courtyard. Large gold, silver, and bronze statues of wolves, dragons, and a gorgeous woman decorated the ground where the paths intersected. The paths were thin and formed with cobblestone. Archways connected different sections. They were lined with luscious willow trees, crepe myrtles, and lotus ponds. A few benches could be seen, and some of the ponds had small fountains designed to keep the water from becoming algae-infested. Flowers of a distinct blue, pink, purple, red color scheme filled all remaining space. The cold, silvery light of the moon cast an eerie filter over the gardens. Still, the courtyard's grand jewel would always draw her attention more than anything else there. The great matriarch of it all, Artemis. Goddess of the moon, two tribes claimed to descend from her. The unfortunate reality was that hers didn't have a biological tie. It made the debate difficult, but Lady Artemis bestowed the original "gift", which had far more power than the genetics, to her clan thousands of years before the others were ever conceived. She certainly liked being right, but their so-called gift was nothing but a curse to her. Klove had no pride in these abilities, because the cost was simply despicable.

Still, the magnificent female presence and power Artemis radiated incited a seed of hope within her. Kind, gentle, yet fierce. Protector of animals and yet goddess of the hunt. Distrustful of men and yet a source of their society's fertility. Perhaps Klove could be like Artemis one day.

Looking down at her sparkling skin, she growled in displeasure. She had an incurable virus Artemis would never have to deal with. She spit over the balcony railing, trying to remove the sour taste filling her mouth. With no avail, she marched back inside, straight to the bathroom, which was right on the other side of her bed. Throwing open a drawer and smashing her fist through a handheld mirror, she watched as a thick bronze-colored liquid spilled over her knuckles. A small tear escaped down her cheek. She'd never understand the circulating myth that her kind couldn't feel pain, couldn't bleed, or couldn't cry. Immortality came with all kinds of consequences, but they definitely weren't immune to everything. Probably yet another lie being spread by her father and younger sister, designed only to control as many as hearsay could reach.

Hannover stirred in his sleep. Her soft, pointy ears pricked up on her head, waiting for his breath to return to its previous rhythm. Before she was even confident he was asleep, the salty tears were streaming down her face as the nightmare flooded back to her mind. It was her own fault for taking a human through so many supernatural synagogues in the first place, and she would never ever forgive herself for turning him, even if it was only part way, and even if it was the lesser of two evils. Whimpering softly, she climbed into the shower and dug her sharp nails into her arms. She followed the little drops of molten bronze as they spattered over the iridescent pebbled floor. Remembering the broken mirror, she reached for the shards.

♧♧♧

The moon peered over the mountain peaks. The white light was just enough to make out the path through the trees. Careful not to rustle too many leaves, he glanced around with caution before emerging from his spot in the forest. No wagons, carts, or individuals appeared to be present on the trail. Perhaps he was just early enough. With a small howl toward the sky, he took off in the direction of the small series of mountains ahead. His muscles rippled and pounded adrenaline throughout his body, nearly tripling in size. Using his legs would only get him so far, so he threw himself forward onto all fours, shifting into full wolf form and launching himself with incredible speed into the foothills.

The wind in his hair and fur was perhaps the only thing he really lived for anymore. He had no mate, no real pack, and no use for all the money he'd managed to obtain after his last six years bounty hunting. No one saw any worth in a lone wolf and an outcast. It didn't bother him as much as it used to though; he didn't need anyone telling him what to do, getting in the way, or getting killed. If you don't get attached, you don't have problems. It was better that way.

After only a few miles, his stomach began to growl and churn. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good meal. It wasn't as though he couldn't hunt something down or afford to pick something up in a tavern along the way, but he easily became overly focused on the task at hand, forgetting to eat. Although fairly skilled in combat and stealth, he wasn't as well-known as he could be. He chose to keep up the stealth even when receiving assignments. That way, he could still enjoy normal citizenship when he was off-duty. Hanging around town, however, meant unnecessary interaction with people.

Glancing over into the tall reedy grass, he slowed his sprint to a trot, gradually coming to a stop and lowering into a crouch. The distinct smell filled his nostrils. Summer hare. He twitched his inky caramel colored ears, listening for any movement. His tail swished in excitement as he saw a slight shift in some of the reeds a few meters to his left. A spring-load of energy collected in his back legs, until suddenly, he pounced, running through the grass with the hare already in his mouth.

Interesting how so many thought wolves were ravenous, bloodthirsty, and even rabid creatures. He preferred to see how quiet, graceful, natural, and even mature they could be. The real issue his kind displayed was an excessive and extremely exclusive form of competitiveness. Show him a she-wolf with the ability to shut up or do anything without showing off, and he might attempt to return to civilization. It would never happen, he scoffed to himself, chewing through more of the meat.

With a soft walk, he made it over to the nearest river, finishing off the flesh of his prey. It must have been the Jhine, based on its bubbling current and wide bed. Staring into the stars, moon, hills, trees, and mountains ahead, he plotted the remainder of his course. He'd need to avoid the river in the future, unless absolutely necessary; he was too visible here, and a wolf spotted near fox territory would not be received well. After one last glance toward Artemis' palace, he drank and washed the blood from his face, quickly returning to the cart-and-horse trail in the trees. The journey was still a few hours ahead of him, and he only had a few hours of night left.