Chapter 45

The moon hides behind dark clouds. It’s pitch black, whichever direction I look. I can’t see anything. I can only feel Micah’s soft fur I have clenched tightly in my hands.

“Micah,” I whisper as he gets down as low as possible. He looks around carefully and slowly as the creatures dash past us. Micah creeps backwards and begins to run in the opposite direction to the creatures. After a few minutes of running, we are further away from the campsite—Micah shifts and dresses.

“We will take the long way around, back to camp to avoid the creatures,” He says.

“What were they? What did you see?” I ask, panicked.

“I don’t know what they were. There were at least a dozen of them, maybe more. They were dark and fast. Faster than any werewolf I have seen.”

“What do you think they want?” I ask.

“Death. That’s all I could smell on them, old blood, fresh blood, the flesh of many.” Micah says. “I thought I saw… Never mind,” He says.

“Saw what? What did you