"Over there!" a guard yelled, ready to strike Fenris with a sword.
Fenris leaped onto a wall and slashed the hunter's throat with his claws.
He landed on all fours and continued to run. He wasn't the only one. Other werewolves—some older, some younger.
They were trapped, imprisoned in some sort of dungeon.
Fenris had been in there for a while now. He didn't see the moon, nor had he felt it for many months.
'I knew I shouldn't have joined that pack,' Fenris grunted regretfully. Anytime Fenris joined a pack, the hunters always found him. Every time. He had hoped this time would be different.
'If only he hadn't convinced me. Well, never again. I've learned my lesson.'
He looked to the walls with a displeased frown on his face. They were cracked lines of beautiful stone all over the dungeon's walls.
Moonstones. They were what were keeping Fenris and the rest of the wolves weakened. Not completely, but enough to be subdued by humans.
He looked ahead. Bodies lay before him, and a clear path might lead to freedom.
If he went ahead, he might die, but if he stayed, he would surely die. The answer was clear.
Running on all fours, Fenris ran, ignoring the chaos all around him. Some werewolves fought not for themselves, but for those they loved, to have a chance to escape.
Fenris wasn't so noble. He had no one to fight for, only himself. An image of someone popped into his mind.
He shook his head, trying to erase it.
'He doesn't count. He got me into this mess. He can get himself out.'
Fenris ran forward, cutting down any guard that got in his way. They didn't seem trained or as capable of fighting as trained hunters, even in his weakened state.
Amidst all the bodies, blood, and screams, he had finally made it. An exit point.
Only several feet ahead. He could see freedom. He leaped towards it.
"Ow!" Fenris fell on one knee and felt a stinging, sharp pain in the other.
He looked and found a bolt sticking out of it. He reached for the bolt–
"Ah!"
Another bolt pierced his hand before he could remove the one in his knee. Dozens were spread throughout Fenris' entire body. None reached his heart.
His eyes shifted to who had shot him.
A barely armored guard, slowly approaching him with a crossbow.
The guard reloaded his crossbow. Fenris crawled away with all his might, leaving a trail of his own blood. His sight was fixed on the exit.
His vision became blurry and slowly started to shift to darkness, but Fenris persisted.
'I… I don't want to die,' Fenris thought, frightened. He was close—or maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him. He reached for the exit.
Fenris' hand was stomped on by the guard.
"AHHH!" He let out a dreadful scream. The guard kicked Fenris' face. His body tilted onto his back.
Fenris breathed heavily through the unfathomable pain. The guard, however, smiled as he aimed the crossbow at Fenris' heart, but he didn't fire immediately.
It seemed he wanted to see what kind of look Fenris would make when he knew he was going to die. A sort of sick pleasure.
'I'm not going to give him the satisfaction,' Fenris thought.
He glared at the guard. His teeth grew and his eyes flickered golden. The moonstones still weakened him even now, but whatever strength he had, he would use it in defiance.
"Mutts like you don't deserve to live," the guard said coldly. His hands slowly pulled the trigger.
A loud boom. The guard flew, crashing into a wall.
"What… just happened?" Fenris muttered, confused.
"Are you alright?" a feminine voice asked.
Fenris shifted his head. His eyes widened when he found a beautiful purple-haired woman standing beside him with a worried expression on her face.
"I…" Fenris paused, stunned. He coughed blood violently.
The purple-haired woman knelt beside him, removing the bolts. He looked towards the exit. It turned out his mind was playing tricks on him. He was nowhere near the exit.
The wounds bled quickly, and he started to lose consciousness. He was going to die.
"Don't try to talk. I'll heal you," the purple-haired woman said.
She performed some incantation. White light radiated from her hands, not just healing Fenris' wounds but strangely calming him as well.
"A blessed one," he whispered.
"I have a name. It's Luna," she said, smiling. "What's yours?"
The present…
"She really did that?" Rosa asked, in awe.
"She did," Fenris answered.
When Rosa had asked Fenris to tell her stories about the two of them, he had decided to do so… but with some slight edits.
The guards were now bandits in his version, and the dungeon holding the werewolves was now a prison camp.
Still, his story did come out as a bit unbelievable. It was the truth—kind of.
"That's not all," Fenris continued. He went on to explain the rest of their adventures. What Luna taught him—not just surviving, but living. How they travelled, moving from place to place. And how she left him.
"That's quite a lot to take in," Rosa said. "I never knew my Andrea could be so adventurous."
"She was far more than that," Fenris said, reminiscing.
"I'll have to take your word for it," Rosa said, smiling.
Fenris felt a tug at his chest. At first, Rosa's similarity to Luna came off as conflicting and hurtful. But now, sharing stories of the past, seeing her smile…
It felt like she was with him again.
"Can I ask you something, young man?" Rosa asked.
"It's Fenris," Fenris said, finally giving his name.
"Alright, Fenris…" Rosa paused. "Are you just friends with my daughter?"
"What do you mean?" Fenris asked.
"Well, the way you talked about her. It sounds like the two of you were courting each other," Rosa said.
Fenris looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Is that so?"
Rosa chuckled quietly. "Well, if that's the case, I approve. My only problem with you is your rude nature, but that can be worked on."
"Thanks," Fenris said.
He looked outside. It was evening.
'Just how long did I spend talking?'
"I should leave," Fenris said.
"Perhaps, but… what about my daughter?" Rosa asked. "Do you plan to continue searching for her?"
"I… I don't know," Fenris answered, conflicted. "I've spent so long looking for her. You were my last hope. I'm not sure what else I can do."
"Oh, I understand," Rosa said, disappointed. "I know this is selfish of me, but please don't give up just yet. Knowing someone is looking for her brings me some sort of peace."
Fenris didn't respond, at least not in the way Rosa had hoped. He sat in silence, contemplating as his eyes shifted.
"Goodbye, Rosa." That was all he could say. A promise he wasn't sure he could keep would have been too cruel.
"Goodbye, Fenris," Rosa responded, defeated.
He stood and slowly walked to the door, not yet crossing it.
"If I do see Luna… or Andrea, I'll tell her that her mother misses her."
Rosa smiled weakly. Her smile faded as Fenris walked out the door.
Fenris left the small house and the town, and he didn't look back.
Weeks later
Fenris found himself in a tavern. A sort of favorite type of place for him. Not because he enjoyed hiding amongst them.
Pyros no!. It was just less likely that he would be found out by hunters in their company.
He took a swig of mead. He could feel the effects, but they would quickly fade away.
Still, he'd take anything, no matter how fleeting, to forget about her.
"Two years all for nothing," Fenris muttered, his head resting on the serving table. He had nothing. No goal. No drive. No one to live for.
"Hey brother, what's got you in the gutter?" a cheery voice called out.
Fenris grunted in agony. He recognized the voice well.
'It's him.'
He lifted his head to find a man close to his face: short, wavy brunette hair, brown eyes, an annoying smile he had grown tired of seeing, with a slim but slightly muscular physique.
"What are you doing here, Buck?" Fenris asked, annoyed.
Buck and Fenris had known each other since they were children, but Fenris wouldn't call them friends.
No, Buck was more like a street dog that followed you around the moment you showed him the slightest bit of affection.
Yeah, that explained Buck perfectly.
"Oh, you know. Just passing by. Not stalking you in the slightest. Totally ran into you by sheer coincidence," Buck lied. Poorly.
"Uh-huh," Fenris barely let out. He turned away from Buck. He may have had the time, but he didn't have the energy to deal with Buck. He never did.
"Still haven't found her?" Buck asked.
"No", Fenris said.
"Well, that sucks," Buck said. "But… I have something that might cheer you up. You see, there's this…"
"NO!" Fenris interrupted.
"What… that's not fair," Buck cried. "You don't even know what I was going to say."
"I know exactly what you were going to say," Fenris said angrily. "Let me guess—you want me to join another pack. What is this, your tenth pack now?"
"Eleventh, actually," Buck said. "But you know that's the lucky number."
Fenris didn't respond. He continued to drink his mead.
"Look, Fenris. I know the other packs didn't work out. But this pack… it's different. Trust me," Buck said calmly.
"Sure they are," Fenris said sarcastically.
"No, seriously. I really mean it. The pack leader, Lycan, he has a plan. A plan for us to fight back. Just… meet him…"
"I said no!"
Fenris' eyes glowed as he frowned. Buck didn't feel threatened—a surprise for Fenris. The two of them had fought more than once, and Fenris was always the victor.
Buck should have at least had a slight reaction, like he always did. Something had changed.
Fenris turned away. Whatever it was, he didn't care enough to find out.
He took another sip of his mead.
"Augh—" Fenris belched as he collapsed to the floor.
"Fenris!" Buck exclaimed, kneeling beside his friend.
Fenris' lungs burned as he struggled to stay conscious through the pain. They both knew the symptoms of what this was.
"Wolfs… Bane," Fenris grunted.
"Well, well. It seems the Gods and Goddesses of Luck have blessed us. Two werewolves in one day," a masculine voice said.
Both Fenris and Buck turned to the voice. Hooded figures dropped their cloaks, revealing a group of four with armor and weapons, all with glowing symbols emanating from them.
"Hunters," Fenris thought, with dread.