rafun1312

It was a perfect night for hunting werewolves, Greg decided with a glance towards the rising full moon. Storm Moon, that was the name his almanac gave it, but there was no storm in sight. Just a few cloudy wisps, no more than the smoke off a candle, riding on the slight breeze. Greg glanced at the moon again, shivered and rubbed his hands together, stomped his feet. The ground was hard, and the bare trees glittering with frost. At least there was no snow, so the horses would be able to run free. Or was that a bad thing?  The werewolves would be running just as easily. “Nervous?”   Greg jumped when his older brother Andrew was suddenly standing beside him, but managed to turn it into a shrug. “Nah,” he said. “Good,” Andrew said. “Remember your job?” Greg shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I’ve seen you do it a million times.” “No you haven’t,” Andrew said calmly. “Cause I’ve never been on a hunt this big myself. And even on the smaller ones, you’ve only seen the beginning and the end