As a 17-year-old with little to do in Kansas, you pick up some bad habits. I was outside my house my weapons left inside I love history and old weapons like that but I left them inside as usual little did I know I would need them. I kept hearing what I thought were coyotes nothing unusual considering Kansas and the wildlife around here but they seemed to be coming closer I went inside to grab an ax my battle ax to be specific. looking at it the only thing my mother said my father gave me when he left it was a weird bronze color with a black wood handle leather braiding down the handle. I took it outside just in case they showed up in my yard considering I live on the outskirts of town I look pretty formidable a 6'5 kid kinda chunky at 300 pounds with long curly gray hair in a jet black trench coat I've had for years after I met my partner in crime Ty who was inside sleeping he gave it to me on my birthday. I'm just finishing my smoke and I see these huge hulking dogs show up jet black looking like there eyes are glowing red these ain't looking like your average small grey coyotes these look more like wolves really fucking big wolves. I start to walk into the house and just as i do one of them turns and starts towards me lunging for my neck I blocked its strike but it got my arm pretty good tearing my coat I looked up rage in my eyes swinging for the head I connected and it exploded into a cloud of dust the rest of them doing the same. confused I look around and see Ty with a bow in his hand he said "come inside we need to get that arm patched up and you need to know what those were"I follow his instructions Ty is like 6 foot even and about 180 pounds dirty blonde hair and has native American I've known him since we were in preschool he always went to new york or something during the summer cause that's were his dad lived or something. after my mom died when I was 10 his grandparents took me in being my parents basically since we met anyway but they just left for a trip leaving us alone for a few months. I met him in the kitchen arm dripping blood he grabbed a roll of gauze and a weird brownie looking thing. he was talking about something or other about greeks and myths and how we needed to go to new york I snapped back into reality after he said my name " Curtis this is serious we need to take your car to new york we aren't safe here anymore" weird he never calls me by the real name he and everyone else just calls me kano "grab the cash Jim left for us and a couple of bags of shit for the road and lets go"I say in my slightly southern accent " eat this" he handed me the brownie and I ate it tasted like jelly beans my favorite candy killing the pain in my arm I just realized I had. we loaded the car 1969 mustang convertible a nice matt black with cherry red flames on the wheel wells and away we went a trail of smoke following me as I light another smoke ready for whatever came my way.