Anger Does Not Serve

‘Is that Dylan? Did he discover that I have some witchy spells under my sleeves? He will kill me if he knows!’ Diana thought as she remained still. She was holding her breath. With squinting eyes, she turned her head to the side. Her back was against the wet bricks of the second floor of a merchant’s store.

Diana’s feet were barely maintaining an equal footing as she climbed to the two-story merchant store. With her feet tiptoeing on the gutters, both of her hands were gripping the brick wall with the help of her protruding canines. She left a dent in the brick wall, leaving for sure a trail of her claws against the brick wall for everyone to see when the sun would finally show up… if it would show up. Her back was against the wall, barely touching the bricks.

Drips of translucent liquid fell from her shin. The heavy rain which was her doing helped her erase her scent against the crazed black-furred wolf – who happened to be the mate she blocked – who was also