The man held his blade to my throat,throat,throat, and I could hardly breathe.
I had seen him only once in my entire life.
Back home in the moonlight pack, he had been one of my father's most prized assassins.
I had been only about seven years old and scrubbing the library floors when my father himself camecamecame in.
I had gone to quickly hide because,because,because, even though I was doing my duties, I knew that my father did not like seeing me.
A man,man,man, almost like a shadow,shadow,shadow, appeared.
He had rich olive skin,skin,skin, and his eyes I could remember werewerewere hazel.
He was dressed in pieces of clothingclothingclothing, like something a desert wolf would wear.
"Have you been discreet?" My father had asked.
There was no one else in the room.
The spy nodded.
All through the conversation,conversation,conversation, I hadn't seen him talk. Only bow or shake his head.
