A fabled wall, marking the territory of the werewolves and adorned with the severed skull of a once great alpha, stands between Natalya and her prey.
When she finds the body of Anesa, her beloved mentor, she is determined to hunt down the vampire r...
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She had nowhere to go, and the fall from a jump at that height could break any of her bones.
In mid leap, the werewolf passed through the moons light and began to shift into wolf form. His fingernails extended into wickedly sharp claws, and his face stretched into a muzzle of glistening teeth. Gray fur shot from his spine as he leapt. The cloak lay in a heap, forgotten, on the ground. He pawed at the trunk of her tree, scoring large lines down its sides. He growled furiously, his eyes glinting. Could he climb trees? Natalya didn't know.
She let another arrow fly, but her hand shook with fear, and she sent it into his foreleg and not his heart as she had intended.
The werewolf yelped and shrank away. Natalya cheered inwardly, but her joy was short lived. Some kind of message passed between him and his companions, and they too changed forms. After a moment, their leader leapt back into the fray. He was limping, favoring his front paw, and the wound could not completely close over the arrow. It did not stop him as Natalya hoped though, and they prowled around her tree, barring her escape.
Natalya's haven had become a trap. She felt the beginnings of despair and she fought it, determined not to allow it to overwhelm her. She thought of the risk she had taken by following the vampire here. If she didn't make it...if the werewolves killed her, surely her people would try to find her. Would they risk another war by searching here when they couldn't find her remains within their city limits? Would they declare war themselves against the werewolves when they found out they had killed her? The morbid possibilities that ran through her mind grew more and more bleak. She shook her head. She was a vampire huntress, and she would not allow these things to come to pass. She would fight to whatever end she found herself in. Invigorated, she turned to her present problem. She would have to come down at some point, and she couldn't afford to lose any more of her arrows if she missed.
She didn't risk hurling her stake into one of their chests; if she failed to penetrate one of their hearts, she could lose her precious weapon. She would have to keep both weapons on her in case they attacked her at close range.
An angry growl snapped her back to the present. The leader of the werewolves charged swiftly back into a human, reaching for the cloak again. He threw it around himself and stalked towards the tree, measuring the distance between himself and Natalya. His features were twisted in anger as he grabbed one of the lower branches of her perch, intending to climb after her himself. He was almost upon her, having climbed the tree faster even than she had. His gnarled hand reached for her, the rapidly shrinking nails at the ends poised to claw at her flesh.
Natalya froze for a mere second before her instincts took over. She reached for one of her arrows and raised it above her, not bothering with the bow. She thrust it into his hand, half expecting the brittle wood to snap in two with the impact. Instead, it had buried itself into the werewolf's flesh, and the strangled gasp of pain that came from him was agonizing to hear. He had let go with his injured hand. Natalya was sickened by the stench of burning flesh. The silver was already spreading, dissolving his skin as it moved swiftly through his bloodstream, seeking his heart.
