The cold and bitter air nipped at James’ flesh as he trudged slowly, yet surely, atop the thick blanket of snow. His snowshoes kept him from sinking into the heavy banks and his entire human body was covered from head to toe in winter gear. 

 Looking up with ice blue eyes the man came to a stop and reached up to remove the thin waterproof hood from his head, 

[i]It’s a little ways further than I had anticipated…….God I hope that woman wasn’t leading me on a wild goose chase. 
[/i]

  He thought back to the mysterious old woman he had tracked down, back in town. He had heard rumors and followed the crumb trail of information; leading him to the seemingly ancient werewolf female. He didn’t know if she had helped him…..or fooled him into climbing up a barren mountain for laughs. 

  He, seeking quidance and information about his wolf side, James had questioned her. But she refused to tell him of anything on her own. Said she was too old and crippled to give him the help he needed. 

  The old woman instead told him of a hidden pack located in the mountain range just outside of Odessa. She told him to look for a man named “Markus”. He was the Ulfric of the pack; a young strong male that she also warned James to be wary of at first. 

She had said “Wouldn’t help having your innards thrown across the pretty white snow.”

Great…..lots of encouragement. 

So now, he trudged up towards where she said the pack’s main shelter would be. He remained in human form not only because he wanted to seem as peaceful as possible, but because in truth he hadn’t used his wolf much……not until he had finally packed up and moved out of the city.

  Suddenly, catching his breath, James’ senses picked up on the faint but detectable scent of fresh blood. 
  Blinking he tensed and sniffed the air; finding hints of male…..and female….werewolves. 

  Something pulled tight inside of him, and James was surprised to find himself growling under his breath. 
  His……mental tick…..if you called it that……edged to the surface. 

As a child he had endured the pain of watching his mother beat and bloodied beneath the hand of his drunken father. 
  Because of it he was especially sensitive to instances when females were threatened or injured. 

And now…..it seemed as though he smelled one’s blood on the wind….

  Growling again James marched foreword through the snow at a threateningly fast pace. 
  There was a ripping sound, and he winced when he felt the change come over his body. 

Slowly the man fell foreword onto his hands and knees in the snow, but he continued relentlessly on towards the source of the blood scent. The clothes on his back ripped beneath the reshaping body underneath, then fell away and crumpled in the snow. 

  Fur grew at a rapid pace and protected him from the cold, and finally, a grey wolf stood in the equally pale snow around him. 
  Black ears twitching James' gait suddenly faltered and he blinked, glancing back to find one of his snowshoes still tied against his boot; with his paw now stuck inside. 

  Shaking his head he kicked his hind leg sharply and flung the nuisance away, before turning and running foreword over the surface of the snow. 

[i]I really should have stuck to this form in the beginning. [/i]

  It went to show just how little he knew of his wolf side.....he had to find that pack.....