Chapter 1

I hate werewolves. I really do.

I stumbled down the forest path, still following the scent of the damn werewolf that I've been hunting. I stopped a few paces away from the entrance of a small town, and slumped against a tree, sliding down to sit against the bark. Taking a slow, labored breath, I tried not to wince at the stabbing pain in my side. I looked down to assess the damage down by that flee infested mongrel.

There was a large gash on my left thigh, puncture wounds in my left ankle, and three long gashes in my right waist. Sighing, I let my head rest against the tree and closed my turquoise orbs. My curly auburn hair stuck to my sweat covered face, and my body began to feel heavy.

I was a complete mess. I had lost a lot of blood, and couldn't heal because I had run out of my spare animal blood.

"Zaria," a voice whispered in surprise.

I opened my heavy eyelids to see the blurry image of a man with short, dirty blonde hair and soft brown eyes. Blinking, I took a shaky breath and recognized the scent immediately. "H-Henrik."

The last thing I remember is looking up at a moonless sky as Henrik carried me into the town, and then I was overcome by darkness.