She knew that sound, with a deep, shiver through her skin. She knew. There had been hunts where the prey was young. Young enough to break. Young enough to train. No kill orders and Masters with dart guns...

Her snarl wasn't remotely human as she darted from the brush at his back, her attack wasn't meant to kill though. No, this wasn't her kill to make...

No, she was just a terrifying shadow that left a line of pain along the man's arm as she snatched the weapon from his hands. A terrifying shadow that landed in a crouch beside her current packmate and watched the poisoned man turn and run...

The path glowed still, growing under the human's feet as he fled. She had no fear they'd lose him, so she turned her attention to pulling darts out of the Werewolf.