Lycans Of The Woods

Chapter 1

Copyright © 2019 by Faith Hunte

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without written permission from the author.

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Stealing is a CRIME. If this book is discovered elsewhere, legal action will be taken.

Hello everyone! This is one of the books in the series, Amidst the Grips of Lycans.

This book can be read as a standalone.

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My fingertips trailed along the grimy wall of my cell, dark eyes and lips twisted in a grimace as I walked to the large guard beyond the steel bars. He shifted at my approach, eyed me with something akin to disgust as I stepped out into the light, limping from the bruises on the soles of my feet.

The flame of his torch flickered and my eyes darted at it's brief warmth that tickled the exposed skin of my arms.

Dirty hands stretched out beyond the bars and mouth watered at the bowl in his free hand. "Looks delicious as usual, Kanes." I muttered, assessed the dried, stale bread, the small block of cheese that was plopped on top of it.

It would do little to sate me, but most meals in this prison did not do so anyway.

Kanes, a prison guard and lycan grunted at my rough actions and eyes flashed in warning. I scuffled backwards then, bowl pressed to my chest as I retreated back into the darkness of the cell, all the while watching the lycan with wary eyes.

He turned wordlessly, the keys attached to loop of his belt jingling and drawing my attention momentarily. Gnawing on the bread, I eyed the metals, knowing how easy it could be to slip a hand out and grab them, but I would not dare do so.

This lycan, like most, was aware of any movement one could make and I knew my footsteps would be heard if I moved towards him again.

"Two minutes." Short, clipped words echoed from Kanes and my teeth tore hungrily into the cheese and bread, stomach churning in discomfort at the smell emitting from them.

My tongue cleaned my teeth when I was finished and I crouched low, pushed the bowl across the dirty floor and watched as it slid under the space of the cell door and collided gently into the lycan's boot.

He stiffened, back tensing and a low growl of irritation rumbled from his chest.

The large lycan faced me and I knew that even though I was in darkness, he could see me clearly. His upper lip was curled in a snarl and eyes glimmering.

"You do that again," He gestured to the bowl. "And I shall rip your arms off. Give it to me properly."

My lips folded in tightly and the worn bed creaked as I sat down, watching from the corner of my eye as he reluctantly retrieved the bowl, his boots repeatedly thundering against the floor as he walked away from my line of vision.

My chest ached as I inhaled the scent of feces and piss that drifted into my cell and my hand pressed into my stomach at the nauseous feeling that arose.

"The toilet." I called over to the cell opposite mine, crawling on the floor to the cold bars.

A man, Clyde, was seated against the wall of his cell, legs and arms unhealthily thin like my own and he'd been recently deciding to simply shit on the floor instead of in the small, unclean toilet in his cell.