Unknown Point of View
The room is dimly lit, the single bulb overhead flickering slightly, casting long, shifting shadows across the rough wooden walls. The air is thick with tension and the faint metallic tang of blood and sweat. Ten warriors, all clad in dark, weather worn tactical gear, stand in a loose circle around a scarred table. A large, detailed map of the region is spread across it, weighed down at the corners by knives and empty bullet casings.
Red and black markers dot the map, werewolf packs locations, strategic points, recent sightings. Some are circled, others crossed out completely.
I sit at the head of the table and lean over, pointing to a cluster of marks in the eastern quadrant. My voice is low and gravelly, commanding attention without needing to raise it. “According to the Alpha,” I say, tapping my finger on several circled locations, “these packs all have Lycans stationed there now. Reinforcements. Protection.”
I straighten myself slowly, my eyes scanning over t
