Out in the forests, in the cold, damp grounds was a lycanthrope. Bloodied, crushed, and gnawed. At the moment he is fighting for his life.
It would be a wonder if he survived the night.
He had silver skin like a diamond, perfect. He was authority and royalty in one …a true blood.
As the redwood pack got ready for the full moon, little did they know that one of their own was breathing his last?
The redwood howled the loudest. Fought the boldest. And hunted the biggest prey in the history of lycanthropy. Werewolf hunters.
They were ahead of all clans and that earned those lots of respect amongst other pack
Eric, the beta, jogged up the mountains as soon as the moon became full and screamed out to the other packs.
Then the transition began.
Nails turned to plundering sharp claws. Bo
