Scottish Wolves

Chapter Twenty-two

Raven sat at his desk with his mobile phone glued to his ear "Why the hell aren't you answering!" he spat with anger, he looked at the small flashing red dot on his laptop and had noticed that it had been in the same place all morning. "Come on...answer!" he shouted down the phone, after another ten minutes he resigned himself to the fact that his best scout and another of his hybrid dog had been killed.

Raven was leader of the hunters, a small group that tracked and killed wolves that were likely to cause problems near human populations. To him it was the same as culling deer, he understood that werewolves where normally a peaceful species but by taking out the more powerful ones he could keep them in check.

He drummed his fingers on his desk trying to figure out his next move, him and the rest of the group had no special powers they where just normal average humans but their technology was very advanced. All his men had tracking devices implanted into their arm which meant he could track all his men at any time.

He right clicked his laptop mouse and copied the grid reference and pasted it into Google maps, now he had the exact location where his man had been killed, the only people who would do this would have to be wolves as his scout would have looked just like a man walking with his rather large dog.

He hissed at the screen his body shook with anger for those beasts. If he had it his way we would eliminate every single one of them, but that would be impossible as only his dogs had a knack for sussing out wolves like a dog detecting drugs at an airport. He hadn't always been as full of hate as he was now.

**FLASHBACK**

Malcolm worked as head gamekeeper on a massive highland estate, he loved his job, he was able to roam the beautiful Scottish highlands and get paid for it. His job was to look out for poachers, unlicensed hunters and he kept records of what wildlife he seen on the lands and where he had seen them. He had done this job since he turned eighteen and twenty years on he still loved it. Although the estate owners had recently changed hands he had still retained his job.

One evening there had been reports come through that some chickens had been stolen from a farmer on the outskirts of the estate, he didn't normally work evenings or nights and it was Saturday so he had asked his wife Isabel if she wanted to keep him company, she had agreed. If only she had stayed at home!

By the time they drove over the hilly grounds and old dirt tracks it was dark, his first stop was to see the farmer who shown him the wrecked chicken shed, the doors had been ripped open and there where feathers everywhere, the strength needed to break the heavy padlock meant that it couldn't have been a fox. There where huge chunks of wood ripped out the side of the door, must have been a tool, maybe a crowbar but he wasn't sure.

He looked around for any other clues but all he found was what looked like huge paw prints, they looked like dogs and he knew the farmer kept a few large Alsatians for security although they didn't do a very good job here he thought dryly. He told the farmer that he would have a look around to see if he could see anything out of the ordinary.

He switched his searchlight on and his wife sat in the back of the jeep directing the light into the trees while he drove slowly, we would have rather done the searching but he knew the terrain here and knew it was safer for both of them if he drove.

Suddenly she spotted something in the trees "Malcolm! Look in the trees" she spoke loud enough to be heard over the jeeps engine. He stopped at looked at the direction she was pointing in, he seen movement and was sure he heard a growl; he reached over to his trusty rifle and fired a warning shot through the window to try and scare it off. This was a bad idea, whatever he had just shot at ran out from the trees and before he had time to react he heard a blood curdling scream as his wife fell off the back of the jeep with a sickening thud and lay motionless on the ground.