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The cold empress known as the moon slipped behind her veil of dark clouds, it seemed she favored The hunter clan that night as they took up positions in the ancient ruins that rested on the cliff. Below the waves crashed mercilessly against the gleaming white rocks that reached up the side of the cliff as if to hold the magnificent structure in place.

Lillian rested her crossbow upon her shoulder, her well trained eyes picking out the shadows of her fellow clan members. Only a few yards away her brother Aozu lay hidden beneath a slab of stone that might have once been part of a wall of the monastery that had been there. He shifted slightly as if sensing her eyes on him. She could imagine the playful grin on his face as he watched his overly serious sister shift restlessly at his lack of concentration on their mission. It irritated her to no end that he never took anything seriously, his playfulness and laid back attitude made her cringe; he just wasn't hunter material in her opinion. In fact she felt he was a danger to them all.

She brushed a strand of her lavendar hair from her face and looked away from him instead concentrating on the darker shadows that now seemed to blend with the rest of the world at the disappearance of the Lunar diva. It was of utmost importance that they be aware of the werewolves first. Several precautions had been put into place a spell to hide their scents, and carefully layered over that one were several others all for the purpose to prevent disclosure of their positions. Perhaps the most important spell came last. One to hide the scent of the majicks being used.

If she had not been looking for it she would have missed the small flutter of her cousins hand to indicate the prey had been spotted. The moon chose then to play a game of hide and seek revealing herself momentarily and lighting up the clearing. A lone werewolf sat on it's haunches there in the middle of the ruins. It seemed to be laughing at something. Chills ran up and down her spine as a drop of sweat slid down her neck, then beneath her collar until it was soaked up by the fabric of her black blouse. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure if there had not been a cloak of silence over her she would be a dead woman.


((I might continue in the next journal entry and i might not...))