
As the night draped its veil over the city, obscuring all but the faintest outlines, three shadowy figures moved with deliberate precision. It was a moonless night, their ally in this clandestine pursuit. For over an hour, they had stalked their target, their movements as calculated as the gears of a well-oiled machine.
They glided across rooftops and slipped through narrow alleyways, their steps measured and silent, blending seamlessly into the darkness. When the figure disembarked from the carriage, they continued on foot, unaware of the unseen eyes tracing their every move.
With practiced skill, the shadows doubled back as the figure paused, casting a cautious glance over their shoulder. 
As the figure entered the tavern, the shadows converged on the building, their forms merging with the night. 
With the agility of predators, they scaled the walls, their eyes fixed on the glowing wi


As the spies lurked in the shadows watching as the figure discussed with the old man, and took off her veil, revealing herself to be Lady Andrea; they listened in bewilderment as the duo discussed in hushed tones. 
'Lord Abercrombie?' she asked puzzled. 'Lord Abercrombie is a werewolf?' 
Lord Abercrombie, in his late 50s, possessed a rugged handsomeness that seemed to defy the passage of time. His weathered features bore the marks of a life lived fully, with lines etched around his piercing eyes, each telling a story of wisdom and experience. Despite his age, his demeanor exuded an aura of vitality, and his cheerful disposition was infectious to all who encountered him.
Standing tall and imposing, Lord Abercrombie commanded attention wherever he went. His stature was not merely physical; it was a reflection of his inner strength and resolve. His deep voice resonated with authority, yet 


As he lay on the bed, a mere echo of his former self, his eyes, once bright with life, now resembled two deep, dark wells, their light all but extinguished. His cheeks, once full and rosy, were now hollow and sunken, the sharp contours of his bones, stark against his pallid skin. His once proud beard, once a symbol of his strength, now hung limply from his chin, its once vibrant white hue dulled by illness and time. Each breath he took was a struggle, a rasping wheeze that filled the room, a testament of his failing health.
'Our origins?' she asked, confusion etched across the lines of her face. 
'Yes, our origins' He affirmed. 
'Your husband's father, and I were best of friends. So inseparable were we, that, wherever he was, I was, and wherever I was, he was.'
He paused, glancing at the window, as he murmured to himself.
'Father?' she said, instinctively reaching out to him, while straining to catch his attention. 
She observed that he wasn't looking, but sniffing the air. 
And she instinctively reached for her undergarments, to check if she reeked of sweat or any foul ordour. 
'Father?' she pursued. Lines of worry, beginning to form along her face. 
As though recovering from a reverie, he jolted. His eyes focusing on her. 'so little time', he murmured. 
'Where was I?' 
'You were telling me how inseparable you and your best friend were' she replied. 
'Ah, yes, yes…' he muttered, 'we were quite inseparable, though we were both peers under the British peerage system, his father was the Duke of Sussex, whereas mine was the Viscount. This didn't bother us, I ate at his place, and he mine.' 
He paused, glancing at the window for the umpteenth time. 
'We grew to be fine gentlemen, he and I. While he owned a company in the construction business, I on the other hand, managed my father's estates, which was by no means a small one. 
Despite our respective engagements, we still made time to hang out like the boys we once were. 
It so happened, that one day, Albert, for that was his name, suggested we went hiking on the peaks of the monolith mountains as it would be fun. 
I agreed, I had no engagements, and I knew that it had the promise of being  a memory that we'd never forget in a hurry. 
Quickly, I had packed a few clothes,  my hunting gear, which comprised: a torch, a pen knife, an  extra pair of hiking boots, a bottle of antiseptic and a box of matches. 
He on the other hand came along with a Winchester rifle, some cans of tinned food and sauces,  a retractable tent and some tent pegs. 
Soon, we were on our way to the mountains. We had left notes to our respective fiancées regarding our whereabouts. And before long, we were in the dense jungle. 
Along with us was a small map, that accurately showed us the terrain. Which route was shorter and which, was less of a hassle. 
We wended our way past foliage and shrubs, even made detours when we reached impasses. Before long, we were at the base of the mountain, whose jagged frame, served as stanchions to lever ourselves to its summit. 
We decided to rest there for the night. While I staked the tent to the ground, he built a hearth for the fire, which would serve as warmth for chill up the mountain and also for cooking. 
As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, we huuddled towards the crackling fire, its warmth a comfort against the cool evening breeze. 
Seated beside me, my companion and I regaled each other with tales of our past exploits, each story more daring and adventurous than the last. 
As the sky darkened and the first stars began to appear, our conversation turned to more lighthearted topics, and soon we were recounting tales of our own guile and cunning. 
We laughed at our own folly, at the tricks we had played and the schemes we had concocted, our voices rising and falling with the rhythm of the flames.
And then, as if on cue, the full moon rose majestically above the horizon, bathing the clearing in its silvery light. 
We fell silent, awed by the beauty of the sight, our hearts filled with a sense of wonder and reverence.
In that moment, as we sat together beneath the moonlit sky, I felt a deep connection to my companion.  
And as the night wore on and the fire burned low, I knew that these moments would be etched in my memory forever, a reminder of the power of friendship and the magic of the moonlit night..' he paused clearing his throat. 
'.... As we sat by the campfire, enjoying the warmth and each other's company, a sudden, shrill scream pierced the air.
It sounded almost human, but there was an otherworldly quality to it, as if it came from something not quite of this world. 
The sound seemed to come from deep within the jungle, meters ahead of us, sending shivers down our spines.
Before we could fully grasp what had just happened, the scream was replaced by a series of shrill howls, unmistakably the eerie chorus of wolves. The sudden change in the atmosphere made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
Albert, my only companion on this journey, sprang into action. With a practiced hand, he swiftly added bullets to his Winchester rifle, preparing for whatever lay ahead. 
With a determined look in his eyes, he gestured for me to accompany him, beckoning me to follow him down the path towards the source of the scream.
I hesitated, fear gripping my heart. 
The jungle was thick and dark, and the thought of what could be lurking within its depths filled me with dread.
But Albert's reassuring presence and the urgency of the situation spurred me into action. With a deep breath, I gathered my courage and followed him into the unknown, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night.
As we ventured deeper into the jungle, the eerie sounds led us to a small clearing where our eyes beheld a sight that froze our blood. 
Standing before us was a massive wolf, unlike any we had ever seen; It stood on its hind legs, towering at least eight feet tall, its fur bristling with rage. 
The creature's eyes burned with an unnatural light, and saliva drooled from its snarling jaws as it focused its gaze upon us. 
The air around us seemed to thicken with malevolence, and a primal fear gripped my heart.
In a swift motion, Albert raised his Winchester rifle, taking aim at the creature. 
With a steady hand and unwavering resolve, he fired at the beast. 
The shot rang out through the night, but to our horror, it had no effect on the creature. Instead, it seemed to only enrage the beast further.
With a guttural growl, the creature lunged towards us, its claws extended, ready to strike. We barely had time to react, but Albert stood his ground, determined to protect us. 
He fired shot after shot, but the creature seemed invincible, shrugging off the bullets as if they were mere bee stings.
Realizing that we were facing a foe beyond our comprehension, we turned and ran, the sounds of the creature's enraged howls echoing behind us. 
Our hearts pounded in our chests as we fled through the jungle, desperate to escape the clutches of the monstrous beast that hunted us.'
Andrea watched as her father wheezed,  his body convullsing violently as he struggled for restraint. 
' As we fled from the monstrous beast..', he continued,'.. Albert's boot caught on a protruding tree root, sending him tumbling to the ground. 
His boot had tangled under a fallen tree trunk, trapping his leg.
Without hesitation, I jogged back to him, my heart pounding in my chest. I grabbed hold of the tree trunk and tried to pry it off his boot, but it was wedged tightly.
Just then, a shadow swept past us, and I knew that the beast was near. Frantically, I grabbed my pen knife and began to chip away at the bark of the fallen tree, hoping to free Albert before it was too late.
As I worked, I felt a slimy fluid drip across my face, and I looked up to see the beast perched in the branches above me, its eyes fixed on its prey. 
Fear gripped me, but I pushed it aside, focusing on freeing Albert.
With a final effort, I managed to free his boot, and we scrambled to our feet. 
But before we could flee, the beast reached down, its claws extended, ready to pluck Albert from the ground.
Without thinking, I threw myself in front of him, shielding him with my body. 
As the beast lunged forward, its jaws closing in on us, I felt a searing pain as its teeth sank into my shoulder.
I cried out, the force of the impact knocking me to the ground. 
The beast's jaws raked across my flesh, tearing through muscle and sinew, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.
But before the beast could deliver a fatal blow, Albert's shot rang out, striking the creature and causing it to recoil in pain. 
I looked up to see Albert, his rifle smoking in his hands, a look of grim determination on his face.
With a tremendous effort, I pushed myself away from the beast, scrambling to my feet despite the agony that shot through my injured shoulder.
Bloodied and battered, we ran, putting as much distance between us and the wounded beast as we could. 
Together, we turned and fled, the sounds of the beast's enraged howls fading into the distance as we escaped its clutches.
Under the  glow of the full moon, we ran for our lives through the tangled forest. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a frantic drumming urging me forward. Albert's breath came in ragged gasps beside me as we raced towards safety, the urgency of our escape lending strength to our limbs.
Finally reaching the camp, I fumbled with my bag, my fingers trembling with adrenaline as I searched for the antiseptic. With relief flooding through me, I handed it to Albert, who wasted no time in applying it to my wounds. The moonlight danced across the clearing, casting ghostly shadows as he worked.
But it was the deep gash on my shoulder that made my blood run cold. In the silvery light, it looked even worse than I had feared. Albert's face was etched with concern as he examined the injury, his brow furrowed in concentration.
With steady hands, he tore a strip of cloth from his pack and began to fashion a makeshift bandage. I winced as he tightened it around my shoulder, the pain sharp and biting in the still night air. But Albert's touch was gentle, his movements sure and steady as he worked to stem the bleeding.
As he finished, a sense of relief washed over me. But it was short-lived. 
The full moon hung overhead, casting its eerie light upon the forest, a constant reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. 
With a silent nod to each other, we knew we had to find safer shelter.
Together, we made our way towards a nearby cave, its mouth gaping open like a silent invitation. 
Here we'd pass the night in dread of the unknown. I, huddled to the wall of the cave in fright, Albert, clutching the rifle in readiness should the need arrive'.

As the night draped its veil over the city, obscuring all but the faintest outlines, three shadowy figures moved with deliberate precision. It was a moonless night, their ally in this clandestine pursuit. For over an hour, they had stalked their target, their movements as calculated as the gears of a well-oiled machine.
They glided across rooftops and slipped through narrow alleyways, their steps measured and silent, blending seamlessly into the darkness. When the figure disembarked from the carriage, they continued on foot, unaware of the unseen eyes tracing their every move.
With practiced skill, the shadows doubled back as the figure paused, casting a cautious glance over their shoulder. 
As the figure entered the tavern, the shadows converged on the building, their forms merging with the night. 
With the agility of predators, they scaled the walls, their eyes fixed on the glowing windows. 
Inside, the figure's silhouette was illuminated by the warm light, their conversation wi

CHAPTER 6 Rude Awakening