Tressandra
Misery is all I know, it's everything. I stare coldly at the table filled with the Alpha and Beta family. Alpha Green and Beta Thorn. They're uppity and self righteous on their pedestal of perfection. A pedestal that my mother would kill to put me on.
I shift my gaze to my fingernails drumming on the wooden table. The pack is boisterous around me, so loud that I almost can't hear myself plotting.
My nostrils flare. I smell the lycans. I can always smell them. Their scent is distinct. Powerful. Spicy. They're like us werewolves, only bigger, stronger, and immortal. They're unstoppable by definition.
They can't be stopped. That's what I need.
I'm out of my chair before I even spot them, following my nose to their table. 4 of them sit together, gathered for lunch like everyone
