Prologue-

The moon was full, it's ethereal light draped like gauze from the tall pines. A disheveled man stumbled theough the night, gasping madly for breath. A howl, lonely and terrible, cut through the chilled air and pierced the man's soul. He tripped for the cover of a fallen log where he struggled to regain his breath. His chest heaved as he tried to recover without alerting the monster to his position. He breathed, listened, and weighed the options before him. Somewhere, in the vast Appalachian forest, there was a ruthless and hungry hunter. The man was his latest prey. He had only two options. Stay put, and wait for daylight, when the monster would retreat to his hovel. Or make a wild run for a nearby road. If he stayed here, the creature might give up in his pursuit. But then again, he might not. This... thing had insanely powerful senses, like nothing on earth. Running for the road was risky. The creature was exceptionally fast and strong. The man might not make it before the beast overran him. But from what the man, a scientist, had observed, this thing was afraid of the road, despite it being quiet with very little traffic. The man's desperate calculations were interrupted by another howl, closer and more excited. The man's adrenaline spiked and his heart rate accelerated as frantic visions of his daughter flashed before his eyes. He made the choice. But it was too late. The silvery moonlight on the ground before him was swallowed by the shadow of the monster, large and looming. The man turned, looking up. A low growl escaped it's wolf like lips, it's eyes held no mercy. The scientist closed his eyes, his body shaking madly as it anticipated the end. A final, vicious snarl ripped from the beast's throat, and death soon followed.

Chapter 1

The puttering pickup truck was a strange sight coming into town. It drew locals out onto their porches where they stood and gawked at the driver. She was Layla Jones, the town weirdo. Being a recluse, Layla herself was a rare sight. But seeing an old diesal in this day and age was rare in Appalachia, and unheard of anywhere else. Cars were illegal due to pollution. Then again, a lot of things were illegal that could be found in this corner of the world.

Layla tapped her feet to the aggressive music pulsing from the ancient Chevy's stereo. The music calmed her, and tapping to the beat helped her to control her nerves. She was never comfortable coming into town. She had built herself a reputation over the years that made it impossible to go unnoticed. Sometimes, people were nice, if patronizing. Sometimes they weren't so nice. Sometimes they were downright hostile. So she made a rule of never going into town unless it was absolutely necessary. And when she did have to go to town, she went packing.

She swung the truck around and parked it parallel to the General Store. It was a post office, supply depot, and grocery in one little building. As usual, no one was at the counter. She grabbed a basket and perused the shelves, grabbing a few items as she worked her way to the counter. There she set the basket down and rang the bell on the counter for a cashier. Out came a scrawny kid, barely 14. His eyes were glued to his portscreen, watching the latest dramatization of the attacks of the lunar operatives on Earth. The wolf men. The ones that weren't supposed to exist. Layla felt her mood sour remembering the creatures she had feared for years, and how no one believed her. Her blood heated remembering how her neighbors had shaken their heads, how some had jeered. Well, she thought, they believe me now. You tend to believe the impossible when it tries to rip out your thorax. She was pulled back to reality when the kid spoke. "Can I help you, ma'am?" She swallowed and tried a smile. "Yes. Can you get me everything on this list, in those measurements?" She slid the piece of paper across the counter to him. He read through, hesitant. "If you're not sure, look in your order history. I get the same every month and pay for it in advance. Mr. Crimshaw usually sets my stuff aside." Things had been tight with supplies. One of the repercussions of the war and the plague. He left to check she was telling the truth. She frowned, knowing the kid looked familiar, but not able to place him. When he came back, she asked, "Say, aren't you Judd Crosby's kid brother?" He looked up from where he had begun to package her goods. "Yes ma'am. Half brother." She nodded. "That's right. You know, Judd and I used to be pretty close when we were kids. What's he been up to? I haven't seen him in ages." He continued to pull items off the shelf and load them into a crate. "Well, he took over as sheriff after the attacks." She examined some packaged seeds. "No kidding?" He nodded. "Sheriff Marcus said his time was done when werewolves came from the sky and started eating people and when escort droids started marching for rights." Layla couldn't help but laugh. "Gotta be honest, that last one would probably do me in too." She put the knife in her basket. He had finished getting her order. "Will that be all?" She pushed the basket to him. He quickly scanned the items and rung up her total. "Chip?" She cringed, pulling on her flannel sleeves. "Rather not. Cash?" He shrugged. "Sure." She pulled out a few bills. "Keep the change." He nodded. "What's your name, kid?" He extended a hand. "Mason Crosby." She took his hand and gave it a firm shake. He cringed slightly at her grip. "Layla Jones." It dawned on him. That Layla Jones. "The Wolf Killer?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's a new one. Um, sure. The Wolf Killer." His jaw dropped. She smiled at the awe in his face. He was too young to be afraid. She picked up the crate. "Mind getting the door?" He jumped, dashing out from behind the counter and running to grab the door. He helped her load her groceries into the back of her truck, after which she thanked him and said good bye.

She watched him go into the store, then turned to study the town. It was small and old. It had remained relatively untouched and unchanged through the last few centuries. Pastel town houses stood tall and rickety, their paint faded. Balconies were strung up with clotheslines. Older citizens rocked on their porches, studying Layla. She looked down the street to where the public library stood. Her mother used to take her exploring there. They had spent hours hunting for stories to take home. The memory brought a dull ache in her chest. Further down was the church with the oak tree where she and her parents used to go. Places and people she knew, and yet she was still a stranger. The kook in the woods. She shrugged, shaking the thoughts away. She had done what she needed to, but she didn't feel like going home yet. She ran her fingers through her unruly hair, thinking maybe it was time to get a haircut. She decided against it, remembering who ran the hair salon. Then she considered going to the sheriff's office to say hello to an old pal. Nah, she decided. They don't want to see me. She and Judd hadn't parted on the best of term. And to add to that, she'd had a few clashes with the law. Best not to risk it. She walked to the drivers seat of her truck, started it up with a roar, then started down past the library to the roundabout. She saw that it was closed and clicked her tongue sadly. People didn't have much need for books nowadays. It was creepy how quiet the town was. It was fall, so kids were in school. But the streets were still empty of any activity. A ghost town.

She raced through the winding country roads, enjoying the blur of autumn foliage. Listening to music made her lose track of time as she got lost in the rythym and soul. It made her feel slightly more alive, and less alone. As she pulled over the rickety bridge and into her drive, she was greeted by her pack. Her family, the three rescues, Spero, Phoebe, and Alex. She loved them. They gave her some security, some company and affection. But they were a real nuisance whenever she tried to unload groceries. They swarmed her feet, their tails beating and tongues wagging. She made her way to the house, trying not to trip over the dogs. She was climbing the steps had reached the next to last one when she felt her foot go through the rotten wood. She froze, trying to pull her foot out. The wood cut at her skin, prompting a creative slew of swear words. She managed to pull out and get though the door without dropping anything. She set the crate on her kitchen counter with a thud, limping to find a first aid kit. She found what she needed and dropped into her armchair. She started to patch herself up. It wasn't bad, she was just somewhat squeamish. Too many times performing first aid on herself. She laughed at herself, remembering her new nickname. "Wolf Killer." She muttered. "Kind of cool. Kind of horrible. Still, it's better than crazy b-" She winced as she touched her ankle. She swallowed and salved the cuts, trying not to freak out. She slapped a band aid on. Out of sight, out of mind. She rose, put her shoes on. She put away her supplies, then went outside to get a few chores done while there was still light.

A few hours later, she came in and showered. When she got out, she pulled out her portscreen and played the security feeds from cameras around her property while she cooked dinner. She chopped vegetables, humming to herself. She missed the days when she could watch TV or listen to music in the evening. But she simply couldn't risk it, not again. Not even with the new peace between Earth and Luna. Most of the wolf soldiers had been dealt with by Luna. Those that hadn't immediately turned themselves in or returned to Luna were being hunted by the Lunar Police. But some continued to evade authorities. Most of them kept to themselves, not wanting to cause trouble. But like anywhere else, there was bound to be bad seeds. She finished cooking and ate her normal, boring meal in the deafening quiet of her home as her thoughts continued. Despite the precautions she still had to take, it wasn't nearly as bad as before. And because she'd been careful, she'd gone awhile without incident. Aside from the attacks in reciprocation to Emperor Kaito's rejection of Queen Levana, Layla hadn't been caught badly off guard since... She swallowed the last bite of her meal, trying to smother the memory. She rose from the table, taking up her dishes. She made quick work of cleaning the kitchen, then went to her room. She changed into worn shorts and a t-shirt and buried herself in the covers. She closed her eyes and listened to the breathing of her dogs, to the wind in the trees, and the terrible loneliness that surrounded and threatened to crush her. Her heart ached as it usually did as sleep pulled her down into a shadowy pit of dreams that had haunted her since she was a child.

She awoke to a hushed beeping. Her perimeter alarm. She sat up groggily, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed. She frowned at her dogs piled up and snoring softly. They didn't stir, not even when she rose to her feet. She stepped lightly to the door frame, picking up the double barrel shotgun. She crept carefully through her house, avoiding the two windows that gave her a view out into the trees. It was a full moon and nearly as bright as day. She couldn't see anything, but the alarm had her hesitant to go back to bed. The last time she trusted she was safe, she almost didn't live to regret it. So she waited, her heart pounding and her eyelids heavy. She listened and heard nothing but a breeze outside and the occasional sigh from her dogs, warm and content in their bed. She closed her eyes, not even realizing she was falling asleep until a sound made her snap awake. It had sounded like wood creaking. She held her breath. It could have been trees swaying in the wind. But a shred of doubt lingered. She raised her gun, slowly slipping closer to the door, careful only to move when the wind whistled. Several beats passed. She stood before the door. There it was again. The creak and groan of the porch steps. A loud thud startled her, and a gasp of pain betrayed her visitor. She quickly undid the lock on her door, throwing it open. There was nothing, no one. She raised her gun, unwilling to step out into the night. She knew someone was there. They could be waiting beside the door. If she stepped out, she would expose herself. She cocked her gun, took a breath, then leaned forward. The floor creaked. A shadowy figure shot from the side, grabbing the barrel of her shotgun and pushing in. She pulled the trigger without hesitation, not even flinching at the recoil or noise. She front kicked, trying to push him off. Her attacker seemed unfazed, by both the kick and the shot. Dammit, I must've missed. He continued to push in, making her lose her balance and fall on her back. He moved quickly to get on top of her. She was stilled clutching her gun and managed to get off another shot. This time it seemed to have hit. It slowed him down, giving her a chance to recoil and ram the butt of her gun into the region that should've been his face. He cried out in pain, and she scrambled out from underneath him. She half crawled, half tripped into the kitchen. She threw open a drawer, groping around for a knife, for anything. She suddenly felt her head yanked back by the hair. She screamed, her fingers closing around something. Without thinking, she twisted and attempted to drive the makeshift weapon into her attacker. It didn't go straight in, but the grip on her was released and her enemy threw her into the kitchen counter. She saw him run out the door and into the night. She forced herself to move to the door, to look around. But it was too late. He was already gone. She saw where he had fallen into the hole in the steps she had created earlier. She was breathing so hard she felt a stitch in her side. When her breaths and heartbeat slowed, she looked down to realize she was still clutching the weapon that had saved her life. It was a screwdriver, dull and bloody. No wonder it hadn't gone in. She shook her head, closing the door and bolting it. Inside, she turned on the lights. She examined the damage. Shifted furniture, blood, and kitchen drawer contents emptied onto the floor. She sighed. She doubted she'd go back to sleep tonight. She might as well shower, then clean up the mess. She wondered if she should get a blood sample, although she wondered what good it would do. She moved into her bedroom, and realized. The dogs were still sleeping soundly. She frowned. She stooped beside Spero, touching his head. She shook him gently. He continued to sleep. That's not right... I wonder. She noted to herself to check the dog bowls and food for signs of someone tampering with them. She stood up, removing her t-shirt which had become ripped and bloody during her fight. She moved to the bathroom to shower, stroking the scars on her arms, mementos of past battles and carelessness. The marks of a survivor. Of a killer. The Wolf Killer.