Edited with Grammarly: 5/21/2020

My first instinct is to run for help, but since I don't know just what all is going on or what happened, running now would be foolish. It doesn't stop me from being wary though, or cautious as I slowly make my way closer, stepping silently on cushioned paws. I don't know this area, but I do know how to move in the woods when stalking, when you don't want to give away that you're there in the first place.

Since the smell is coming right to me, I don't have to worry about mine going to whoever's in front of me. It doesn't stop me from side-skirting a little bit, lowering my head. It's full-on dark now, and reflective eyes can give you away just as fast as a snapping twig.

Several yards are moved ahead slowly but surely, keeping ears open for any sounds of danger. The sounds of water become clearer as the trees thin out enough to poke my nose through. Another grotto that the whole area is named for, there's a naturally made rock basin, but it's tucked up next to something not so natural. Well, I doubt it is anyway.

Someone once had something built next to it, also made of stone. Considering it's right next to the water, it could have been a watermill or even a well-house. All that remains of it though is partially crumbled walls, a cobblestone floor that nature has taken back, and a flight of stairs leading up to a second level that's no longer there. Even the stairs were carved out of some kind of rock.

What takes my attention away from the architecture is the waterfall behind it that leads down into the pool. It's following it to the pool that has my eyes settling on a nude body laying out on one of the rock slabs. Well, not so much 'laying out' as much as hunched to the side in pain.

It being male is what almost has me backpedaling, but the sheer amount of scars is what holds me transfixed. A Werewolf can scar, but it has to be some serious, hardcore wounds for it to happen. There's a myth that humans have about silver being deadly to us, and while not wholly true, it isn't totally false either.

Silver acts as a severe irritant to us. Cut us with a knife, we'll heal no problem, cut us with a silver blade, it'll heal, but it will burn like hellfire. Silver only becomes deadly when paired with Wolfsbane. A silver blade dipped in a potion of that will poison our blood, and if not taken care of within a set amount of time, it kills us.

The tall body stretched out on the rocks several feet in front of me has plenty of ragged claw and bite marks, showing his fights with other Werewolves, but there are also old wounds that look like bullet holes and stabbings. The wolf marks are more prevalent, but the others are a bit worrying. His back is to me, but they aren't just there, they go both up and down his body.

Seeing scars on a wolf isn't uncommon, but I don't think I've seen anyone but Alphas have this many, those who fight for their position and have to keep doing so in order to keep it from any and all challengers. Looking over him, he's neither my Alpha; Fen, or Alpha Kristos. He's much younger.

His low, angry growling startles me, has me freezing in place when his head turns and stares right at me. Emerald green eyes spark with fiery agitation as he bares his teeth at me, yet, seeing who it is looking at me from that tanned face, my own irritation grows.

Long in body, being at least six and a half feet, his toned muscles are sweating as he strains. Sweat or water mist, either way. Seeing who it is, I'm actually not surprised he has so many scars now.

I can feel my dark blue, nearly black eyes harden as I stiffly come out from my hiding place. I was hidden, yet he knew exactly where I was. Looked right at me. That, if nothing else, has me seriously annoyed.

Tucked into the trees and underbrush so my pale coat wouldn't give me away, head held low so if the reflective glow of my eyes were seen they would have been assumed to be from something much smaller, and downwind so he couldn't sniff me out. There's more to this wolf than any of us know, or at least what I know. Considering all the information dropped on me tonight, I'm not liking secrets right now.

Emerging out from the dense shadows, the slight widening of his eyes has me smirking internally. The muscles all over his body had been tightening up, but slowly relax just a touch as he scowls at me. Giving him a wolfish grin, I continue to walk closer till I'm about five feet away, well out of easy arms reach.

Running my eyes over his healing wounds, he growls at me again, but I just give him a droll look. Lowering my rump, I sit there and stare at him, this annoying male who seems to have gotten some kind of karma, I'm sure. His eyes aren't spitting fire at me now, but they clearly aren't happy either.

The thick, wavy chestnut-colored hair reaching just past his shoulders keeps falling in front of his face, so he finally just repositions altogether. He doesn't turn his whole body, attempting to hide some of his injuries from me, but I still make sure my gaze stays on his face. He has enough females to gawk at him, I'm not going to add to their number in his eyes by looking over his manhood.

He fights a groan and it has my ears directing forward. His lip raises once more at me, so I finally roll my eyes at him. That, weirdly, gets him to chuckle.

"Come on Wynter, aren't you going to get in your chance to kick my ass? Won't get one better than this."

I've never been one for altercations, try to avoid them when I can, but there's just something about this male that just irks me to my very core.

"Don't flatter yourself, Faust, not everyone wants a piece of your body."