Mom and I are silent as we drive through the town of Midnight Furrow. I hold my breath, my heart thumping painfully in my chest as I try to take it all in.
This is it. My new home.
Cobblestone streets, worn by time and countless paws, glisten with the early evening's mist. Aromatic stalls spill their fragrances of spiced meats and freshly baked breads into the crisp air, while the distant howls break through the street noises.
Houses, big and small, shops, schools, and even a small mall make such a sharp contrast with the ancient feel of this place.
In an instant, I fall in love with it all.
Werewolves in various stages of transformation wander the streets—some still largely human, their elongated fangs and sharp claws the only indicators of the beast within, while others move with
