Jerry Bolton
As I stood before the graves of my parents, the once vibrant leaders of the Dark Crest Pack, I felt a torrent of emotions overwhelming me. The cold wind played with my long, brown hair as if trying to console me, but its touch only intensified the grief, anger, and fear coursing through my veins. My tall, muscular frame shivered involuntarily in the chilly night air.
My parents had fallen just days ago, victims of a ruthless vampire attack that had shaken the foundations of our pack. They fought valiantly, but the vampires were merciless. Now, their graves served as a painful reminder of the loss that had befallen Dark Crest Pack.
In the midst of my silent weeping, a soft voice, like a gentle whisper on the breeze, reached my ears. I furrowed my brow, scanning the surroundi
