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The Warrior's Lament
The scent of burning flesh and blood filled my nose as I sank my teeth into the werewolf’s leg, the silver of the fang-guards instantly reacting to the skin upon contact. I had hoped that if I wounded enough of the legs of these new assailants, they could not return to the fight again so soon. I wouldn’t wound them to the point they couldn’t walk, but it would be enough that they’d be useless in a brawl.
I spat the fur out of my mouth and looked about quickly. There weren’t as many losses as I had feared on this group’s part, but they had hurt one hunter, and so things had looked a little tense until at last, the werewolves Lupe had asked to join us arrived. Though things were far from over. Rem and the other Hunter were tending to their fallen friend’s wounds while we held the werewolves back.
There were still more of them than us, but we had injured enough of them that we had gained the upper hand for now. I snarled at an approaching werewolf
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