Post by Adele Holst on Mar 25, 2013 7:20:34 GMT -5
Since Alena had called, the two golden-eyed Lycans had been out looking for their companion on this trip, Pete. The news from the Mother of Lycanthropy had not been good: Pablo (and Alena's daughter) had been kidnapped and the Den in Rome had been slaughtered by Vampires. Their Queen had not been happy that Damien, Pete, and Adele were not with Pablo when he went to the Roman Den. But they were going to make things right, now. Alena was going to get Pablo and her daughter back while Pete, Damien and Adele were to report to Rome and re-establish and hold the Den.
Walking through the streets of Athen, Adele opened up the mental link all Werewolves share and reached out to Pete, Where are you? Something big has happened. Again and again Adele reached out to him with no response. She could feel he was still in the city, it was just a matter of finding him.
As the sun was going down, she caught his scent. It was thick in the air and wasn't his normal, natural smell. Blood hung heavily in the trace of Pete's smell; a lot of blood. Panic rose in the young woman as she followed the scent of the White Lycan through the streets. It lead her to a dark alley. Damien! Adele called out to her companion and ran headlong into the alleyway.
There, lying crumpled on the ground in a pool of his own blood, was Pete. It looked like he'd been beaten within centemeters of his life; but who the hell could have done that? Further down, the smell of Lycan death was crawling slowly out into the alley. "Ficken sie... Pete!" She didn't know who the other Werewolf was, but to have one dead and one on the verge of death was not something to be taken lightly. Lycans were strong, resilient creatures; it simply wasn't an easy feat to catch one off guard, let alone kill one. Adele couldn't smell anything other than Lycan in the alleyway, there was no traces of Vampire stench anywhere, so who ever had done this had been Human, unlikely, or another Lycan...
Blood was pouring out of Pete from multiple wounds. Kneeling down in the street, Adele placed one hand on Pete's chest, and cupped his chin with the other, turning his head toward her to see if he was conscious or not. "Come on, Pete..." He was still breathing, although it felt labored, but that was generally a good sign for life. Adele wiped away some of the blood caked onto his forehead with the sleeve of her hoodie and looked him over closely. Many of the wounds looked as if they'd been inflicted by a Werewolf; there were scratches and bites and it appeared he'd obtained some broken ribs. His head looked like it had taken a hell of a whooping, but in the woman's experience, head wounds tended to bleed more profusely than wounds anywhere else. Waiting for Damien, Adele moved to hoist Pete up into a sitting position.
Walking through the streets of Athen, Adele opened up the mental link all Werewolves share and reached out to Pete, Where are you? Something big has happened. Again and again Adele reached out to him with no response. She could feel he was still in the city, it was just a matter of finding him.
As the sun was going down, she caught his scent. It was thick in the air and wasn't his normal, natural smell. Blood hung heavily in the trace of Pete's smell; a lot of blood. Panic rose in the young woman as she followed the scent of the White Lycan through the streets. It lead her to a dark alley. Damien! Adele called out to her companion and ran headlong into the alleyway.
There, lying crumpled on the ground in a pool of his own blood, was Pete. It looked like he'd been beaten within centemeters of his life; but who the hell could have done that? Further down, the smell of Lycan death was crawling slowly out into the alley. "Ficken sie... Pete!" She didn't know who the other Werewolf was, but to have one dead and one on the verge of death was not something to be taken lightly. Lycans were strong, resilient creatures; it simply wasn't an easy feat to catch one off guard, let alone kill one. Adele couldn't smell anything other than Lycan in the alleyway, there was no traces of Vampire stench anywhere, so who ever had done this had been Human, unlikely, or another Lycan...
Blood was pouring out of Pete from multiple wounds. Kneeling down in the street, Adele placed one hand on Pete's chest, and cupped his chin with the other, turning his head toward her to see if he was conscious or not. "Come on, Pete..." He was still breathing, although it felt labored, but that was generally a good sign for life. Adele wiped away some of the blood caked onto his forehead with the sleeve of her hoodie and looked him over closely. Many of the wounds looked as if they'd been inflicted by a Werewolf; there were scratches and bites and it appeared he'd obtained some broken ribs. His head looked like it had taken a hell of a whooping, but in the woman's experience, head wounds tended to bleed more profusely than wounds anywhere else. Waiting for Damien, Adele moved to hoist Pete up into a sitting position.
