Garr watched the hunter as he headed back into the iron jungle, and saw the hunter get into a car -- and what appeared to be another hunter stop to talk to him as a third stepped out of the car and headed for Garr. A wolf knows a tail, hunter, he thought to himself. Jogging down an alley, Garr kept an ear out for the hunter, and turned into a doorway. As carefully placed, almost muffled steps approached his hiding spot, Garr whipped an arm out and grasped the hunter's neck. Squeezing his windpipe, Garr knocked him out and tossed his unconscious body against the wall. As the hunter dropped down amidst piles of trash bags, Garr turned and bolted out of the group of buildings and back out into the sunshine.
As he walked down the streets, brushing past humans as they hurried to wherever humans went, Garr headed for a den of wolves in the city, one frequented by those who refused to pay any mind to the rules of the city, and came and went as it pleased them. Perhaps they've noticed a rise in murders here, he thought, taking twists and turns to avoid any other tails the hunters placed on him. Arriving at the run-down house, Garr noticed the front door stood ajar, its hinges bent and the door frame broken. Pushing the door open, Garr was hit with an overpowering smell of blood and sickly sweet death. Gingerly stepping inside, he flipped the switch to turn on the lights, and came face to face with the body of a werewolf, halfway between human and wolf form. An unfinished transformation. He tried to fight back. The body, a young man, was torn open. Nothing consumed, just remorseless and demented evisceration. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, dried blood coating his chin.
Gulping, Garr used a finger to close the man's mouth, before heading deeper into the den. Furniture was thrown about or outright destroyed, two more bodies lay heaped in the corner, slashes along their arms and sides showing they were entirely on the defensive. The basement door lay on the ground, shattered. Stepping over the debris, Garr descended into the basement of the house. The basement, which had been dug out to be more than thrice the original size, was in chaos. Blood and gore coated the walls, bodies littered the room, and the smell of death permeated everything, soaking into the walls themselves. As he moved about the room, a sound caught his attention. Spinning about, body already starting to transform, Garr stopped to see a girl.
No more than thirteen, she looked scared half to death - and she was already more than halfway to the grave. Pinned against the wall by the shattered legs of a chair, the girl barely held herself up off the ground as she stood on the tips of her toes. Rushing over, Garr unceremoniously yanked the wooden legs from her arms, drawing a pained whimper from the girl. As she started to drop to the ground, Garr caught her and lay her down on an old, severely destroyed mattress. He could see her little heart beating to the rhythm of a hummingbird's wings, her chest was so completely ripped open. She breathed in rapid gasps, and her pupils were almost the size of pinheads. "Hello?" he asked, waving his hand in front of her face. She didn't move her head, but her eyes darted around the room before shooting over to Garr's face. She locked eyes with him for a moment, and murmured something. "What?" Garr asked, leaning closer.
"It's coming," she gasped out. Another gasp escaped her, and her body convulsed one last time before the light went out of her.
