Dinner with Gerald
Gerald's POV
I watched as the witch's shriek of fury rang out, harsh and grating, as Trevor's blade pierced through her skin, a cry that ended with a sudden, guttural silence. She disappeared into a cloud of smoke, her form dissipating into nothingness as if she had never existed.
Trevor stood, the moonlight illuminating the glistening crimson stains on his sword, as the pack's cheers of victory rang out, a cacophony of triumph.
In the aftermath of the battle, the pack's cheers subsided, their eyes fixed on Trevor, who seemed to embody a singular, focused fury, like a storm on the horizon.
I watched him, his movements economical, precise, his gaze like a hunter's, scanning the shadows, seeking out any potential threat, as if the witch's disappearance had only heightened his vigilance.
