Werewolf Huntress

Prologue

Werewolves.

You know those four-legged creatures with a piercing stare on their physiognomies and has fur covering their entire body? Yeah, that's it. You may think that they're not true and just some mythological creatures but no.

Werewolves are true and they do exist.

They exist in every town, every city, every state, every country, every island, every continent and all over the world, much to my dismay.

Werewolves do not deserve to live here on Earth. They deserve to die and be extinct. They disgust me with their horrible existence.

Werewolves come in packs. Different packs. A pack is a group of wolves which is ruled by an Alpha, a Beta and a third-in-command. Right now, they are a total of forty-three packs in all the states in the United States of America and about two-hundred and three all over the world.

Werewolves also has mates. They usually find their mates when they turn sixteen. If they don't, they will still find their mate because fate has them destined to be together.

And as everyone knows, no one can escape fate.

Also, they aren't created by God. God wouldn't create monsters. They are created by witches. And that is also a reason why I hate witches.

Yes, I hate werewolves. But studying about them, how much I hate it and always complain about it, it's required to know all of this stuff about those nasty dog-like creatures.

To me, they're not just any creatures. They are murderers. No, they are more than just murderers. They are monsters. Vicious, cruel and heartless monsters. Why? They killed my parents. Right in front of me when I was just a six-year-old girl.

I can still hear my parents' screams, haunting me every day, haunting me whenever I close my eyes, making me feel so damn guilty, their screams for salvation and mercy, the pools of their own blood scattered all over the wooden floor of our small cottage. Their begs for them to be saved and not killed.

But no, those werewolves whom I consider as monsters are completely merciless. They killed my parents without mercy or even pity like it was no big deal. Killing them was so pleasurable to them. And that makes me sick.

I used to blame myself for the death of my parents but then I've came to the realization that none of their death was my fault. It was completely the fault of those werewolves.

And now, I despise them more than anything in this world. I've grown up to look or even think about them with such hatred.

And now, at the age of eighteen, here I am as one of the highly-trained agents of the Lycantrophy Fellowship. An organization of humans whose mission is to kill evil werewolves. Even wipe-out an entire pack. We are known by every werewolf pack. And we are feared.

This year, is one of the biggest missions the whole organization will encounter. To terminate the strongest pack in the world, the Midnight Moon Pack and its Alpha.

I thought it was just as easy as the other missions I've accomplished. Since all werewolves fear us. They fear me. I quickly came to the conclusion that it was as easy as killing a small fly.

Or so I thought.