Tails

I never liked the rain. It blurred my vision, ruined any chance of tracking people, and washed away smells. Now, try living in this for seven months, with all you have with you is your most trusted friends, your fangs, and a few guns. Oh, and a blanket. Blankets, soaked, are always wonderful.

I was cold and miserable every day. Werewolves don’t enjoy the cold, and I’ve hated the cold even before I got bitten. So it made no difference in my life, but that small transition of being warm to being cold.

I spent most of my time holed up inside my head, thinking about life. My very, very long life. You are probably asking why I was in this terrible place, this rainforest in the middle of nowhere, practically alone all the time, soaking myself in the constant, year long rains. I’m a Hunter, I do what I’m told. I was told to rid this jungle of the men who polluted it’s natural beauty. So that’s what I am doing.

My boss had received word that unethical experiments were taking place down here in India. I wasn’t sure of our exact location, but I knew what continent we were on. A long way from where I called home. Anyways, our job was, to say the least, search and destroy. I never realised it would take this freaking long to find all these guys and all their paperwork and stuff. And the rain wasn’t showing signs of letting up.