It was a beautiful sunrise when the mist walkers left their pack camp to do the dawn patrol.
A tall warrior named Storm walked in front, the 2nd alpha's son, the less aggressive of the offspring.
He moved steadily, his ears alert for any sound of movement.
Through over the last months, not much action had happened in their pack, there had been no rouges in over two mouths, it was unusual.
Perhaps they had taken the hint to not return and left to find better hunting grounds, the warrior thought.
He was leading five followers, two doing their last stages of training to become full fledged warriors, the others, were pack mates he had grown up with.
Passing a clearing, they split up into two groups, him taking the smaller pack patrol as he headed south towards the rocky mountains, the edge of their territory.
Perhaps a pack of rouges were hiding there.
The small group cleared a hill, before he halted.
"Now," the man said, turning round, the crew lowered their gaze in respect of his position, "I want you Alex, to head east, around the cliff edges, announce with a call of two if you encounter anything, including prey."
Storm titled his gaze to the other werewolf, " Malvon, take the west path, be careful through, it is a more dangerous route, I expect there to be a higher possibility of you encountering something there, remember three bark for you if your encounter anything, I'll head inwards."
The warriors nodded approvingly, backing away and slipping into their wolf forms, they disappeared up the tracks.
Strom turned his gaze forward, creeping down the valley of the mountain ranges, it was a possibility that some rouges could be living near the river.
The man did not slip into wolf form as he cleared around the edge, clambering along onto a narrow path over looking the water.
He was a strong suited warrior, paws were no use clambering forward and any how he proffered his hands.
The alpha's son let his eyes wondered along the shore line, his feet pressing gently along the ledge as he walked further along.
A scent hit his nostrils.
His body halted, bellow him on the sand bank lay a werewolf. Her brown hair coated in sand, her face turned sideways towards him.
She didn't seem to be moving.
Raising his head, he let out the call, one long deep howl, it bounced of the cliffs, dust falling down into the murky water as Storm travelled slowly down.
The werewolf turned sideways, his feet moving in every direction before jumping finally down onto the sand bank.
She was breathing, he could tell, a dart pressed into her shoulder, blood colouring the sand beneath his feet, a strong whiff of poison oozing from the wound.
He heard his companions behind him as he bent down un-clipping his jacket, he pulled it over her naked body, It feel over her small form like a blanket covering her figure form his view.
His hands slipped under her waist, her flexed his arms and lifted her.
Now! don't get me wrong, he was not romantic in his movement, he did not scoop he up like prince charming, no. he threw her over his shoulder... literally.
"Alex, call the pack leader, inform him that we have an unknown suspect with a unidentified poison," Storm said, turning towards the werewolf above, "now!" he shouted. The wolf backed away and dispered towards the camp.
"Malvon, help me lift her up this cliff," his companion nodded.
The two ran towards the camp Alex now surly a couple of miles ahead, Storm's strong body allowed him to still run at a fast speed even with a weight on his back. His figure vipted through the trees like a rocket, his feet swiping mud and grass behind him, it was the speed of a werewolf.
Titling his head, he risked a glance to her face, he had to admit, she was a good looking werewolf.
But why was she unconscious near the river, he had to question.