"We're here," Puck announced.
They had arrived at a small, one-story house on the outskirts of Hoas, a quiet town just a few hours' walk from Wintertooth.
However, the werewolves had opted for horses, conserving their strength and quickening their pace for the journey ahead.
They ditched the horses in the nearest town and walked the rest of the way. The house was modest—just your average, boring human home.
Around them, humans of all shapes and sizes bustled about, too busy with their lives to notice the trio of werewolves.
Not that it mattered—werewolves weren't exactly flashing neon signs screaming their identities. They just looked like bigger, hotter versions of everyone else.
Puck stepped up to the door and knocked. No response. He knocked again. Still nothing.
