Latisha

"Cause of death: wolfsbane and possibly pain," one of the councilmen read aloud, his voice echoing in the tense silence of the room. He paused, then read the words again, his brows furrowing in confusion as he tried to make sense of the information presented before him.

He stared at the paper in disbelief, his hands gripping it tightly as if trying to crush the words printed on it. “How the heck did a rogue coat wolfsbane on its claws? That's impossible,” He half-yelled, frustration and confusion evident in his voice.

As I mulled over the information, I couldn't believe it either, It is nearly impossible for a wolf, rogue or not, to come into contact with even a small amount of wolfsbane without suffering severe consequences. The mere thought of a wolf breathing in half a pinch of the toxic herb sent shivers down my spine. The mental and physical breakdown it would cause was beyond comprehension. It was like flirting with death itself.

But then again, nothing was impossible in the wor