CYRUS:
The Island of Druelle is less than a forty-mile drive. I’ve driven those miles…well way too many times for me to keep track of. Every night I end up finding a truck stop to sleep at and end up drinking until I pass out there.
The only shifters I’ve talked to in over three months have been clerks at gas stations. Anders has been roaming the woods a few times a week, hunting and looking for a pack. He’s real damn stubborn about it too. I know he’s lonely but, I’m not ready to be around any shifters yet. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be.
Suddenly, I’m startled by the sound of a loud knocking coming from the front of my RV followed by hissing noises. Smoke starts streaming out from the sides of the hood. I pull over in a panic. In my anxiety driven daze I somehow manage to
