The Hunters of Haven rewrite

Chapter 1 meeting Silvian

It started on the twelfth day of the seventh moon of the 310th year since I founded Haven. I came to consciousness midmorning. As I left my meditation, the first thing I noticed was the warmth of another body. My warder, Genevieve "Kinkiller" Ironclaw. This explained the second thing I noticed; I was in my bed rather than my meditation mats. I had been experiencing too many terrors as of late. I must have been exhausted. I didn't even remember my meditation.

"I hoped Fenrir didn't tell me anything important.

Gena noticed I had returned to my body. "I was wondering when you would be back." She intoned. "You should go eat something, Romulus will be happy to see you."

"Of course he will be" I responded groggily as she untangled her arms from my waist. "He would be happy to see anyone that he doesn't have to order around."

Gena got up putting on a tunic, she looked tired. Holding down my angry and delusional form is exhausting. I get tired of holding it back and never even experience it firsthand

"Also, your post was full" she continued, putting on her sword belt. Her Kopis had a black steel edge, the hardest metal one can find. Also the most dangerous due to its cursed nature "So I had him go through it. I'll report back to you at the mess hall, I need to go find Marcus; he says he found a new member for the Bloodhounds." Though she tried to conceal her concerns, I could sense she was a tad nervous about the idea.

"Who is he?" I asked.

"This young wolf Freki." She said slightly bemused. That was odd; the inexperience almost never joined the Bloodhounds. Clearly Gena thought so too. "He is little more than a pup. He's better off chasing Imps or Hellhounds, at least until he has some experience.... But Marcus wouldn't waste my time if the kid wasn't up to scratch." She said this time more irritated than worried.

I took a good long look at her. She was shorter than me, five feet and a half. Though don't let that fool you. Even with her dark hair and yellow eyes as the only marker, she was a Lycanthrope. Not just that, the Alpha of the Wolves of Haven. "Kinkiller "even, a title given to the wolf whose job it is to kill other wolves that have gone mad. She would do what was right, whether it was a popular choice or not. I placed my hand upon her shoulder, and addressed her formally, "Keep me informed. I look forward to knowing more about this new recruit." Gena saluted, and left to go upon her business.

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Having Gena around certainly would have made my morning more relaxing. Unfortunately I just couldn't sit in bed all day conversing with my warder. There was work to be done. As she left I got out of bed and went through my usual ritual.

I dressed myself in my usual garb. A charcoal wool tunic trimmed in silver Northern wolf pelts covered my pale scared. Loose tweed trousers hung by my sword belt. Sinew garters wrapped around my shins keeping them in place. My boots like most hunter boots had soles carved of oak.Before affixing my sash, I inspected Hatti and Sköll. My sabers, each a gift from Fenrir were forged of Ether. Next, I refilled the Holy Water in my throwing knives: One on each forearm, four in my belt, one in each boot, one behind each shoulder and one under each arm. Finally, I began taking inventory of my potions. The potions I use are more potent than the ones used by the Hunters, if only because they can't handle the ones I use. In function they are identical. One for accelerating wound healing rate (kept in a steel flask in my breast pocket). One to increase muscle output (kept on my belt). One to hone sensory sensitivity (hung around the neck). I checked my mirror. I looked as I should, organized and prepared. My silver eyes were rimmed with dark shadows, a byproduct of my nightmares, it would have to do. My silver hair was tied in a simple braid, keeping it neat and in good condition. I took out a pricker and pulled the braid out. My mane fell to my upper back and wrapped around my neck.