To Walk Alone

- diners -

Living out in the country like this worked to her advantage, and disadvantage. While the trees provided her coverage from the outside world, it also made her prone to rogues that happened to wander through the area. None of them ever left her lands alive, but the thought that she could easily be outnumbered if they ever decided to move against her was concerning. She kept a vigilant eye on the borders of Betty's property, but she couldn't deny her wolf when they came across a fresh scent. Rogues would occasionally travel through the area, and while both packs to the east and west kept a tight rein on the security of their lands, didn't mean that rogues weren't oftentimes smart enough to evade detection.

That was where Sif came in.

She was a silent and careful huntress; trained by some of the best warriors in the Alliance. You didn't grow up like Sif did and not know how to fight. She had an expensive and extensive upbringing. Nick made sure she was capable of taking care of herself, and she certainly was. Those rogues never knew what was coming until she was jaws deep in their throats and disposing of them.

There was a big difference between a lone wolf, like her, and a rogue. For one: the smell. Rogues stunk to put it bluntly and they smelled like danger and trouble wrapped into one filthy little bundle. Rogues often had very little in way of a conscience, they didn't belong to a proper pack, and were easily persuaded and tempted to disrupt the lives of those that preferred a more structured life. They held little remorse for their actions and were the filth of the werewolf society.

Each race had their own sort of 'filth;' those that liked to spread discord and mayhem, those that liked to take what wasn't rightfully theirs to take, those that enjoyed hurting and killing without mercy. Sif was proud that she not only had the capability to make a small dent in the downfall of several rogues, but in her mind, it also worked as payback to the surrounding packs. She was their silent ally in a twisted sort of way, the ally they would never know about.

She killed rogues, they unknowingly allowed her to live here peacefully. It was a win win in her books.

Nick would wholeheartedly disagree with that theory, she knew he would, which was why she kept her location and life a complete mystery.

A rumble of thunder in the distance pulled her out of her thoughts, telling her a storm was on the way. She turned her nose up in the air and sniffed. Yep, it was coming in from the coast. She could taste the salt from the sea and the danger the dark clouds would bring with it. She hated storms. Ever since that night...

No, she shook her head. She wasn't going to allow her thoughts to drift in that direction.

She had a few hours yet before it arrived, so she pushed the four-wheeler even faster as she roared down the barely used driveway and hit the gravel road. She didn't have to stop to look for cars; her road was always deserted. Aside from the occasional truck or car, it was barely used. Just one more reason Sif liked living here.

Her black hair streaked behind her, making her look like a wild woman on a mission. The unbuttoned grey plaid long sleeved shirt revealed a deep blue tank top underneath, and her black leggings hugged the sides of the machine. The short brown boots she wore shifted just the slightest as she adjusted her feet while she drove down the back road that would take her to the small grocery store.

The small town of Brindlewood held a population of just over seven hundred if you didn't include the surrounding packs who frequented the small town on a daily basis. It was what she would have once called a hole in the wall of a place, but despite the size and lack of things to do, the school football games were the highlight of Friday nights. A small one screen movie theater was popular unless you were ambitious enough to travel south to the next town, which was six times the size of Brindlewood and held more tourist attractions than anything.