In his wolf form, Herrin huddled beneath a shrub for protection from the elements. Another summer storm had rolled in, this one with little warning. One moment the sun was sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues, and in the next moment, violent clouds of black and purple consumed the pinks and oranges.

His patchy fur provided little protection, even now that the downpour had faded to drizzle, but his discomfort was endurable if it meant saving his life. The members of the Starless pack gossipped like a bunch of women. He often found it annoying, but their predilection for spreading secrets had warned him of the impending roll call and the hit ordered by the Fae Queen.

So now he was here, wet and cold, with nowhere to go. To head back to the Orion pack was to offer himself up on a silver platter, but to miss it was to announce his guilt. And it was only a matter of time before the little shifter tart found him and tried to slit his throat.

A snarl pulled his lips back, revealing a set of chipped canines. That girl was an abomination, and if the Fae Queen had her way, more of those would be born and set loose upon the world. He hadn't signed up for this. Joining the Starless plan had been part of a bid to restore the former glory of his bloodline, for it had been his great-great-grandsire, Valko, who had slaughtered Alfric for hoarding the power of the wolf. Now, if he didn't figure a way out of this mess, the noble line of Valko wolves would end.

Ears flattened, he stood. He would have to leave Maine, head across the country, perhaps stopping to pay a visit to Chad and the selkie bitch's mother. He'd inform him his services were no longer needed, maybe have a little fun with her himself and then kill her. Tongue rolling out, he set a face pace into the woods, excited about his prospects. Never mind that pack sickness could drive him feral-that was a state he'd relish.

A snapping twig brought him to a stop, and his head whipped around, his ears pressing forward and opening wide to help him determine the direction of the sound. When the musky scent of wolf struck him, his hackles raised and he growled in warning. There was no chance he'd managed to stay hidden at this point, but he needed to put up a front of being powerful if he wanted to avoid a confrontation with whoever had followed him.

But it wasn't a werewolf that stepped out of the shadows. The she-wolf was larger than he'd expected, for all his years running through the woods, he'd never encountered one. Her fur was full and the color of mist in moonlight, growing whiter around her neck and nose and darker across her back to the tip of her tail, which was capped in black. She dropped to her haunches and watched him with light blue eyes. Every muscle in her body was tense, despite the casual pose she'd assumed.

The longer she watched him, the stronger the urge became to drop his eyes to the ground, but it was the recognition of what she was and what she was doing to him that enraged him. Even this bitch, this animal, ranked higher than he did. Charging, he snapped at her neck, managing to get a mouthful of fur before she shook him off.

Her calm demeanor was gone, ears pressed flat against her head, long, sharp canines flashing as she gnashed at him. With speed that surprised him, she lunged and sunk her teeth into his left flank. Yelping, he twisted and snapped at her slender ankles until she released him, her muzzle smeared with his blood.

A smarter man would've retreated, but at that moment, he could only think of how low he would sink if word spread that he was bested by a beast- a female beast. He jumped at her, ripping through the tip of her ear, the taste of her blood sizzling on his tongue amping his battle furry. But the wolf was stoic, not a whimper or cry passed her lips as she circled him.

Herrin prepared for her next attack, his legs tensed to jump out of the way, when another puff of gray snagged his attention. Shifting into his human form, he snatched the pup up with one hand while keeping the other in front of him to warn her back.

"I can snap her neck," he hissed, fingers pressing against the yowling youngster's throat. It would take just the slightest bit of pressure to push his fingers through her trachea and silence her. He was going to do it, but not until her mother submitted to him.

The she wolf was still heaving and foaming at the snout, but her blue eyes were wide and frantic as she kept them trained on her offspring. It was almost human, really, the way she responded to his threats and didn't attack.

Letting his hands shift partially, he stepped towards the wolf and snagged her by her throat, almost moaning in satisfaction as he felt the tips puncture her flesh. His ancestors had taken the power of the wolf by stealing their spirits and drinking their blood. The she-wolves had not been willing to part with their power, dooming his people to a cursed life, but now...now he wondered if he could invoke the old rite- if she would offer herself to save her daughter.

"Is e fear an chumhact ata ag na wolves," he began, his weak mind searching for the right incantation. The ways of the druid had faded when they'd assumed the title of werewolves, but this was passed down from generation to generation. "Comhlacht le comhlacht, is e mo spiorad-"

Herrin heard the blast before he felt the bullet tear through his back and break through his sternum. Scarlet sprayed the wolf, hiding the blood already seeping from the injury he'd inflicted, but she was strong enough to rip herself free as his body toppled forward.

Though his vision was fading fast, he saw a slender figure, dressed in head to toe black, rush to the struggling beast's side, and for the first time, he truly understood what it meant to be at the bottom of the pack. All the perceived bullying and bossing about had never made him feel as small as watching his murderer work to save the life of an animal before checking on him.

Starlight bloomed around their forms, but the woman let out a choked sob as the light flashed and faded out. The wolf didn't move again. Rising stiffly, the woman walked over to him and used the toe of her booted foot to roll him over.

"I didn't expect you," he choked out around a mouthful of coppery blood.

"Sometimes you just become tired of being the victim," Meribella said, training her weapon on him. "I would've done anything you asked, but you had to go and fuck with Thorne."

Gasping, he tried to shake his head back and forth, but he had grown so numb he didn't know if he managed to move. "I d-didn't touch her. We were told t-to not touch her."

"Then who did it?" she demanded, disbelief coloring her voice.

"I don't know. Ask V-v..." But the name never managed to leave his mouth. She yelled something, but his hearing was gone. She dropped her gun, no guilt on her face, only frustration until her attention was caught by something beyond his line of vision. He wanted to call out to her, beg her to not leave him to die alone, but his body was already shutting down. The last thing he felt on this earth was the hot tear sliding down his cheek as his eyes searched the gray skies for one last glimmer of the moon before all faded to darkness.