Storm is a recently discharged Marine who lost her leg to an IED. Medically discharged, she returns to her home town.
Not even home for a week, she has a strange encounter with a large beast. More and more things happen with this beast as time march...
Cleaning up all of the rogue bodies is taking much longer than the pack anticipated. There's so many rogue bodies and so few pack members to clean them up. Thankfully these bodies aren't being buried, they're being burned in one big heap.
The pack members work together in pairs of twos and one loner. By working together the pairs can get more bodies moved onto the burn pile. Our loner, Wilder, is finding himself wishing he had help dragging all of these bodies.
Wilder is approaching three rogues that for whatever reason are heaped up into a pile. He grabs the closest one and starts to drag it away. A sound similar to a deflating ballon causes him to drop the body in shock.
From under the bodies a hand reaches out as if trying to flag down help. Wilder grabs the hand and pulls the person out.
The person coughs quite a few times before finally speaking, "Took you long enough to find me wolfboy. I thought I was going to die under there."
"Paul you're alive!" Wilder whoops before crushing the sickly vampire in a bear hug. The bear hug breaks apart leaving the vampire with a crushed sort of feeling. "Not if I don't have a drink. May I?" Paul doesn't wait for an answer and instead latches onto Wilder's wrist. He doesn't drink much only enough to make him feel less sickly. "That felt weird." Wilder shakes the bitten wrist.
"I heard somebody passing by many times yet no one heard my cries for help. I really thought I was going to die," Paul's tone is sad, which causes Wilder to feel bad, "All those wars to die in a werewolf fight. Ha! That's not how I planned on dying." He then cackles.
"Wilder, we need your help!" A pair of pack members call from nearby. "We'll continue this later." Wilder tells Paul before running off towards the pack members in distress.
As it turns out his fellow pack members have a rogue cornered in the burnt remains of a house. How this rogue survived the war is not clear.
"Please, I'm not a rogue!" The rogue says with his hands in front of him. The skin on his hand is peeling back and is not nearly as gruesome as one would expect. "See? I'm not a rogue!"
"Let's rip him apart!"
"Please don't make me do this." They don't listen and advance on him. He sighs and sheds his skin which stops their advance.
"Now look at what you made me do. That was a good skin you made me shed." The creature whines.
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All three werewolves take a step back, this creature looks dangerous and it's best to keep space between them and it until they can figure out the best way of attack.
By now Paul's caught up to them and is watching the scene in interest.
"What is it?" The female werewolf asks.
"That my dear would be a skinwalker. I would help in the killing but sadly I know this one." Paul's lips curl in disgust.
"I'd rather be torn apart. I do not want to deal with this vampire." The skinwalker spits out venomously. Paul retorts some smart ass comment and the two get into a full blown argument.
