Victoria Silverwolf
Vegetarian Werewolf
The Traveller
The night had a bite to it that invigorated him, made him feel truly alive. He knew the city by memory so the dense fog would be of no hindrance to him.
One more night and he would leave this backward world and return home.
Once more the in city of London, in their year of 1888, the night would echo with panicked screams and the arrival of mystified policemen.
They called him a monster. He called himself a hunter.
His trophies would bring squeals of delight from the females of his species.
They knew his name by now. Jack.
The night had a bite to it that invigorated him, made him feel truly alive. He knew the city by memory so the dense fog would be of no hindrance to him.
One more night and he would leave this backward world and return home.
Once more the in city of London, in their year of 1888, the night would echo with panicked screams and the arrival of mystified policemen.
They called him a monster. He called himself a hunter.
His trophies would bring squeals of delight from the females of his species.
They knew his name by now. Jack.