The Canine
Red and gray. A thin line of blood mingled with the werewolf's thick fur.
What a night…The lupine smirked, thinking back on the event that had taken place about an hour ago. It was just his luck that he would run into a guy intent on doing battle with a Darkstalker. He was nobody special, just an ordinary hothead with misled hopes of victory. But he learned his lesson in the end.
The werewolf couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed. Even with all his fighting expertise, the man had succeeded in cutting his right forearm with a concealed knife. The pain had ceased after cleansing the wound out in a nearby lake, but the sting of anger and humility still endured.
Was this all the Darkstalkers meant to these people? It seemed that he was either high-priced game or a threat to everything living. There was no in between, not even for those few who chose not to bring their wrath upon the humans. But why did he use his lycanthrope curse to help the mortals? They showed no gratitude in return, labeling him and every other Darkstalker the same as the wretched Dark. After years of living with his curse, he still did not quite understand where he was going in life or what he was destined for. There were so many questions; he could just feel that there was someone out there with all of the answers.
Years ago he had just been a normal human: Jonathan Talbain, the famous martial artist. This was before the Darkstalker within him had emerged; this was when he still had a strong purpose in life.
As soon as the werewolf began to rest, his ears perked up, catching the sound of multiple footsteps moving toward his position. However, he refrained from hiding. He had been expecting visitors, after all.
A child's voice called out from the darkness. "Jon!"
"Over here." The werewolf spoke in a deep and somewhat rumbling tone of voice.
Two children, both dirty and wearing tattered clothing, came running over to him.
"Mr. Talbain, are you all right?" The younger boy, James, always addressed him formally. The older boy, Gregory, was more ornery, but still held respect for the lupine and looked to him as a fatherly figure. Jon had been training these children for months, teaching them how to defend themselves in such a dangerous world. Even after his transformation, the boys remained loyal pupils. They were young and rebellious, but he had taught them much discipline. They were the only humans he could trust. They were one of the few reasons he remained sane.