Chapter 3 Crescent 🌘

• It is just the break of dawn when I open my eyes, it remained dark around me, and painstakingly cold. I don't normally wake at this time.
• Moving to sit at the edge of my wooden bed, I try to figure out the reason why I woke up this early.
• The only reason coming to mind is the pulsing headache that I feel within my skull; my werewolf instincts rushing to the surface to relieve me of that ordeal.
• Then another thing comes to mind.
• My senses are heightened as I feel the presence of a foreigner within my sensing radius — which, by the way, is a very large radius.
• I try to listen in; to hear if someone is approaching my shelter, but the noisy rush of the nearby 'Bawling River' blocks that sense.
• "Focus, Cress, Focus."
• I try again, but to no avail. My eyes quickly dart around the textile walls of my shelter. Most of it is torn and open, the place isn't fit for a wolf to live in, but this was what the gracious Usurper, Reef, had to offer me.
• He had the shelter made days after he decided that I'd live, days after I slept on the cold hard ground of the 'Black Pit' — the dungeon — at the Pack House, my family's house.
• There's been little to no reconstruction since then. Just me filling in some holes, and blocking some leaks in the roof. Speaking of leaks, that was what woke me up, a drop of water on my nose, I'd have to fix that later.
• My senses are heightened again by unforseen danger — I so much hate the feeling of foreboding, it's not fun.
• Deciding to act on my instincts even though I haven't gotten an actual prove of danger yet, I walk to the table directly opposite my bed. Removing the top layer of the table, I reveal to myself an array of weapons.
• Carefully, I study the weapons laid out in front of me.
• They can hardly be called weapons, they are mostly kitchen knives, and other sharp objects that I have collected and redesigned — some, supernaturally so.
• The more familiar scent isn't here today, just like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before even that day.
• The presence that has been with me for over five years now. I can't feel it anymore, somehow, I miss that presence. It felt much better than this new one.
• It was the scent of the spy that Reef had put on me. I'm not sure why he did that, but I was always at alert for whenever he does approach me, that day never came, I guess it might never come.
• My ears pickup the break of a twig. That could either be an animal, my old companion — I've gotten so used to him that I call him that — or it could be from the new presence that I felt.
• Closing my eyes, I sniff around, hoping to pick up his scent, but I'm greeted by a strange one instead.
• I pick up the knife to my far left, average of length and donning a metal steel laced with black, I hold it close behind me, avoiding any contact between the steel and my skin.
• I wait patiently, anticipating what to come.
• Doing more sniffing around, I noted that another distinctive scent wasn't with me today, and that's the scent of Xander. He's been stalking me for as long as I can remember. But not even he is here today.
• More twigs break, and the scent becomes stronger, just this time, it's not just one person approaching my shelter, and these people remain alien to my nose.
• The shelter has little to no doors and windows, so whoever they are, they would be barging in on me from anywhere.
• My ears go erect instantly, and the claws in my other hand extend. They will be at me, any second from now.
• The first person attacks, and I dodge with ease, he came crashing down on my table, taking the table with him — that's the only one that I had, motherfucker.
• Instead of using my claws, I pounce on him, holding him tight in places as I drive my knife through his head. Silver, Jove, and a coat of wolfsbane, he didn't stand a chance.
• The other two attack me simultaneously, and I evade all their attacks without breaking as much as a sweat.
• I have been a cooperative weakling for as long as I can remember, but I knew that there was a price on my head, I just didn't know when and where they'd come for me.
• I guess I know now.
• Both men stand on either side of me, panting and growling. Both of them have glowing eyes. One has the regular yellow, while the other has blue, the telltale sign of his transgressions.
• Growling, they both charge at me at the same time. All I had to do was step out of their way and they collided against each other.
• There are a lot of advantages to being small and quick.
• Still using the knife, I lodge it at the head of the sinner, killing him with that blow.
• Every werewolf knows what kills them, but I might have taken a lesson or two on how to effectively and efficiently carry the did out.
• There is a reason why I'm keeping the extent of my powers a secret, it is to be a surprise to the Mimas once I was ready for them, yesterday was a mistake, and something inside me is glad that Xander came when he did.
• The knife being laced with Jovian steel is a great advantage. Jovian weapons are one of the deadliest of weapons against a werewolf — although they have the effect of an ordinary kitchen knife on wolves with my blood.
• Only a Ganymede can make these special steel.
• Cast a black eye on any regular silver or steel under the first crescent of an ebbing blood moon and the steel turns just as black as the wolf's eyes.
• As easy as that may seem, it is not an easy feat to achieve.
• Not many Ganymedes have successfully made a Jovian steel throughout their lifetime, and due to some unknown deformities in my own powers, it didn't turn an absolute black.
• The knife, instead, has these very decorative black stripes across its length. I just didn't know that it would be just as effective — fantastic to find out.
• One strike to the brain, and the blow serves just like decapitation, frying the wolf's brains in seconds, before they can even think of trying to heal themselves — which, they can't do.
• "Arrrgh."
• I hear the other one growl.
• "Are you sure you don't want to make a run for it?" my voice crawls out in the most venomous way possible.
• The voice wasn't insensitive enough, but my eyes slowly going pitch black gave me that look of fear that I wanted, the one that I have imagined so many times on another person, more correctly; people.
• Deciding to ditch the knife, I charge at him, and he charges at me too. He goes full war wolf while I remain pug.
• In this state of transformation, his strength matches mine, but the fear deep within his bones wouldn't allow him to make precise attacks.
• I evade all his attacks with ease. He kept on bouncing about my shelter, ruining it further.
• Once I was bored of his stupid display, I pull out a sword and target his neck, striking with all the strength that I could muster in pug mode, the slash sent his head rolling, and his body falling limp.
• Getting rid of the bodies would be difficult, but I'd try. Thank the goddess that werewolves revert back to human form after death.
• I have to get rid of the bodies fast, though. I can't have the wrong people knowing that they are keeping, and feeding a ticking time bomb.