Learning the Family BusinessCold wind blows across the mountains and the interstate, scattering the snowflakes like scared lambs. It cuts through my sheepskin coat and even my very pelt like an icy razor.
Great way to start my first war.
My brother is out hunting our rivals' hired thugs and I get four hour long guard shifts in the motel parking lot, cold steel of the fifty caliber AK cradled in my arms. Icy black asphalt sends the cold right up my legs, my pawpads barely offering any defense. I walk back and forth, trying to get my blood moving. I'm skinny by werewolf standards, even if humans just see me as another hulking monster.
The thugs from New Denver must