Werewolf Hunter
Rendall took out his claymore and Quinn tightened her grip on her bow.
I can sense something, someone. I cannot tell how many but the air is cramped, it feels heavy.
A small growl from somewhere caught our attention and made us do our formation. Quinn as the support, Rendall as the slayer, and I, as the marksman. We formed a small circle enough to watch each other’s back.
“They’re here, they knew we were coming.” I scanned the trees in front of us and my eyes fell into the grass with rash movements, just near a chir pine tree.
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