.Prologue-
Silently, the figure swiftly ran through the shadows, never keeping his eyes off the girl in front. He used the shadows to his total advantage, knowingly using the night as his first weapon.
The girl was wearing a bright red cloak, and as he watched she pulled it closer. Red was his favourite. Checking himself once over, the man stepped out, straightening his navy business suit. He could hardly contain his eagerness. Feeling his nails hooking slightly into claws and hair sprout from his knuckles, the figure composed himself in a seemingly harmless posture.
"Excuse me, miss!" He called, smirking inwardly as the girl (she looked to be about 19) jumped slightly, turning round with wide, green eyes, although her thick dark hair was covering the other. When she turned around, a waft of sweet perfume found it's was to the man and he smiled sickly. "Oh!" she gasped, "You made me scared." He felt more hair growing on him arms, "So sorry, miss. You look lost, may i walk you home?"
Eyes flickering nervously towards the warm silent street, lit by lamp posts behind him, the girl shuddered. Cursing silently, the figure guessed he'd gone to quickly, "Or not? May i ask your name, instead?" This was it, he'd have to strike after this, because he saw the young woman biting her lip. Nevertheless, she seemed to fumble t something around her belt, and he saw a flash of silver. Eyes widening, it's was his turn to be nervous. The girl looked up, hair falling away from her other eye.
Or not.
She only had one startlingly green eyes, a small gap where the other had been, and the side other face previously hidden had ugly, puckered scars in the shape of claw marks. Oh. It was... her. The wolf-hunter. Shelby.
Shelby smirked as she watched the Wolf stumble away, "Something the matter, Wolfie?" Clicking her teeth lazily together, Shelby watched as his eyes flickered between her and the exit. Fight or Flight. Expecting him to fight- as most Wolves did- Shelby was glancing over his appearance. Nice looking, for a Wolf. He appeared to be about 20, quite young to be turned, then. Feeling a small pang of sympathy, Shelby flicker her hair away. No, she thought, she could not feel for them.
When she looked up again, he was gone.
"Great. Just great!" hissed Shelby, swinging out her hunting knife and sprinting out after him. How could she have been so careless? Hundreds- possibly thousands of girls were going to be murdered just because she'd sympathized with it- and let it go. Reaching a fork in the road, Shelby let a few angry tears run down one cheek before letting out an agitated noise. Turning back down the road, she just had one thought. I must find and kill him.
