Can't Go Back » Stilinski [01]

Prologue: A Little Death

Most believe that hunters originated and remain in France; maybe it's because of one family notorious in the circle of hunters around the world, the Argents or maybe—just maybe—it has to do with the fact that in other parts of the world, the hunters circles are so small, their accolades are mere whispers in the world of loud noises of people who don't believe in the supernatural. In Japan, most who are trained to be hunters are resourceful and learn the code of the Samurai, while in other parts of Asia, fight styles are merged with Muy Thai and other forms of martial arts. In Brazil, they infuse the movements of Capoeira into their training, making them agile and limber. In Latin America, their training is a bit more ruthless and sticks to the code that everyone learns, no matter the language and always loosely translated to 'if it isn't human, it must die and if it be a man who is a slave to the moon and becomes a wolf, it mustn't live.'

The Flores bloodline was small, their name changing every new addition to the family. Originally their given names were similar to the Argents, which translated from French means "Silver." The Flores family, originally took on the last name of Plata, translating to English as "Silver" as well. With each new woman born into the family, their names have changed but the rules had not. The men in the family trained to be soldiers and the women trained to be their leaders.

It was an unusually crisp night over in Boston, a place where the quiet was almost never a good thing. Eden Flores, the first child of the Flores hunting family whose roots originated in sunny Puerto Rico before coming to the United States for roughly two generations. At the tender age of fourteen she was exposed to the world she should have known was real. Eden always had a keen sense of understanding, something always felt slightly off about the world she roamed. The woods felt colder, nights a bit more eerie, people she's known forever a bit more unfamiliar on days of change. Her family, the family she though was superiorly average thanks to her construction worker father and nurse of a mother, their public lives the perfect covers for their personal lives.

Eden became the next to follow the rules. At age fifteen she was sworn into a secrecy about her family, trained in weaponry as well as tactics and learning the chain of command in the circle of the family. By the age of sixteen, Eden was unstoppable. The kill count of wolves she's slain was impeccable for someone of her age and size. She stood at a meek five foot three frame, just clawing at over one hundred pounds but slim and slender, her brown hair in waves if not straightened and her brown eyes were the killer. Brown eyes are considered common in this world but hers were welcoming and warm, only to be the last thing you looked into if you were the wrong species and you were ultimately met with your demise behind the chocolate of her eyes.

Most would believe this is where the story ends or begins. It's only the half.

- - -

The scene in front of the teens was one not even the best fiction writer couldn't dream up. Night had fallen, the group of teenagers looking for one friend who had been kidnapped by something no one saw coming in the least suspecting form.