Thirteen:
We spent the next day and a half convinced we were being stalked. Not by the various wild animals or the simpleminded demons, both of whom have already attempted to attack us.
We were using MRE’s for two of our meals, and we managed to stomach butchering up a medium-sized lizard who tried to take a bite out of Mark’s tail. His wolf spirit took that personally and mauled the poor creature.
Mark whined while gutting the kill—he was not made to be a woodsman. My little brother is a strong and capable lycan, but he’s not much for gore and nastiness.
“I am going to retch for a week after we get home!”
Mark murmured, as we finished eating our next morning with the leftover lizard meat.
“Buck up, buttercup! You actually caught us dinner, you should be proud. You did that hunter
