He must've noticed my hesitation for he sighed, shaking his head as much as he possibly could while restrained by the tangled vines.
"I'm not supposed to be here in Fangborne, but then I took a wrong turn when fleeing the hunters and I ended up here," Gus said apologetically. "If the alpha gets his hands on me, I might as well find the hunters and get them to finish the job."
He shuddered, his skin paling further at the thought.
"That would be a swifter death than to land in the hands of Fangborne's alpha," he murmured.
I wrinkled my nose, frowning. The smell of blood was strong in the air, I didn't need a werewolf's nose to tell that. However, despite Gus's supposed injury and discomfort — enough for him to fail to get out of this predicament himself — he seemed awfully cheery with the manner he spoke and acted.
This was not an injured man who feared death. He acted like someone who was simply enjoying a nice picnic in the great outdoors.
