Ironclaw was a pack hidden well behind a mountainous range. There was a shortcut right through, a path that was heavily guarded by armed warriors. While to my understanding, werewolves mainly used their claws and brute strength for combat, it seemed like Ironclaw preferred other methods which could prove more advantageous.
As our fleet of cars drove past the mountains and trees, we eventually arrived at a settlement surrounded by the mountains. All throughout, Damon wore a sharp grimace that never quite left his face.
"What's wrong?" I asked, leaning over from the backseat to have a better look. Even Elijah had a matching frown; I could spot beads of perspiration trickling down the sides of his face. He looked to be in great pain.
I glanced out of the car window, squinting at the ranges. There was a soft hum that I could even feel from inside the car. It felt almost familiar. My eyes then widened with realization.
