KYLAR
I watch the miserable human female stumble through the darkness, her sobs carrying across the empty streets.
Such weakness.
The humans have thrown her out, but I have no curiosity over why. For such weak creatures to throw out one of their own, she must be an undesirable pack member.
Sometimes you have to cut off the cancer before it grows.
"The swarms move strangely tonight," Koros says, crouching beside me on our perch above the human shelter. "Like they're drawn to something. Should we really leave that one to die?"
"Yes." My tattoos shift restlessly against my skin, responding to the pull that grows stronger with each passing hour. The Prophet is here, somewhere in that building of metal and stone. So close I can almost taste their power.
"She could draw unwanted attention," Koros presses. "The creatures—"
