Like the night before, Amy had turned into a wolf. She figured that she must have had the world’s worst luck when it came to becoming supernatural creatures. First there had been that awful night when she’d been turned into a vampire by Jerry Dandridge. She’d thought that her luck couldn’t get worse than that, but, oh, it had. The proof was there in her furry, clawed hands.
Of course it couldn’t have been quick and painless. Every time she’d transformed it felt like every bone was dislocated and every muscle stretched and reshaped. It was hell. She was surprised no one had heard those screams of hers that always eventually turned into howls. When it was finally over and done with she couldn’t even retire to the housecar she shared with Rachel. She had to get away from people, other human beings, for fear that she’d hurt them or, worse in her opinion, turn them into creatures such as herself.
One not entirely unpleasant thing that came with the territory was that her senses seemed to be extremely heightened. She noticed her sense of smell more than the others. It seemed that she could pick out individuals’ scents. She was picking up on one that was nearby - human, but somehow not completely so. It was something that smelled similar to the other wolves. Amy found herself curious, following the scent until she was close enough to spot the source.
Curiously enough, it did seem to be just another human, though he was someone she didn’t recall meeting. A new arrival, she’d assumed.