Huntress

Chapter 1

A creature moved through the forest below like black silk. Smooth and graceful, even through the slush that marked the transition from winter to spring. It was said to be the perfect blend created by the gods. And I imagine, that once upon a time, werewolves just like this one, roamed the earth thinking that they were unbeatable. The intelligence of a human paired with the speed and senses of the noble wolf, who was there to get in their way? Who was to stop them from destroying humanity itself?

I took a slow even breath into my lungs and made sure that I was perfectly balanced on the thick tree limb. I had done this countless times, but somehow, the rush of the kill never left me. A silver tipped arrow dangled from my fingers before I adjusted my bow just perfectly. My recurve bow was a thing of beauty, drawing smoothly and sending the arrow soaring with speed that even the great werewolf could not dodge. Poor beast barely caught the sound of the arrow whizzing through the air with those massive ears before the arrow was imbedded in its side, dropping it.

My training told me that I should wait in the tree, out of sight, until I was sure the creature was dead. My confidence didn't care. Silver, even in small amounts was toxic to werewolves, searing anything it came into contact with and stopping their ability to heal themselves from otherwise catastrophic wounds. Not that the beast could recover from an arrow to the heart or lung. It would bleed out in the forest, alone and afraid. Because even the favorite creature of the gods was killable.

I pulled my backpack over my shoulder and swung down from the tree limb, deciding that was just fine with me. it was fitting to me to have a creature that felt all powerful should die a lonely and sad death and the hands of a twenty-something girl with an Adidas backpack who couldn't even been bothered to look over her shoulder when she walked away.

But even with all of the arrogance rolling off me in waves, I pressed my palm to the small silver pocket knife that I always had close by. I had never been caught unawares before, and today would not be the day. Werewolves were social animals, always traveling in packs. Where there was one, there could be thousands. And when the body was discovered, they would swarm like normal, mourning humans.

My tight schedule would not allow me to wait and watch the pitiful party, and to be frank, the last thing I wanted right now was to watch those beings weep as if they had done no wrong, as if they couldn't fathom why someone wanted to hurt them. My stomach turned sour at the thought of the self-righteous cowards, but I pressed on, hiking through the dense woods until they finally gave out to a dead highway in the middle of rural British Columbia.

Here, it was not uncommon for cars to be left seemingly abandoned on the side of the road. This province was all soaring mountains and thick wilderness that coaxed even the tamest of hearts into exploring. So, no one was going to bat an eye that my Subaru forester had been sitting alone for a few hours now. I unlocked the old car and slid into the worn-out seats before starting the engine.

Right on time, just as I had suspected. That meant that I could still go see my parents before my shift began.

I think that most people my age thought of leftovers and fights about politics when they considered visiting their family. There could be card games and talks of college, or of boyfriends and girlfriends, or gossip over washing dishes after dinner. My life, however, was not so cohesive with the American dream, or the Canadian one, in fact.

So, I found myself driving to an assisted living complex where both of my parents were housed. I greeted the staff as I always did, commenting on someone's new scrubs or giggling about a patient that I knew caused them problems before finding my way to my parents' quarters. I could sit in a tree with a single arrow and kill a werewolf without even considering a second thought. But opening the door to my parents' place was always hard.