Albert tread lightly. Of the school of the cat, a substratum of the entire monster hunter caste, he was trained in the arts of stealth, and his repertoire of combat techniques emphasized dodges, swift strikes, and speed in general as opposed to taking blows like the school of the bear. As such, his bootfalls scarcely sounded upon the ground. He took care to avoid the underbrush, although he knew very well that if the beast he was hunting was indeed a werewolf, he would have been heard regardless.

"Fur," he muttered. "Left quite a bit when it brushed against this tree." Albert stood up from his crouched stance, looking towards the further depths of the woods. "Decided to eat the arm here instead of dragging it back to its lair. No matter. Tracks still visible."

He followed the footprints abreast of their trail, mildly annoyed by how they meandered about as the beast decided to kill two deer on its way home. Light clouds formed in front of his mouth with every respiration, so cold was the temperature. Pines composed much of the forest, and their crowns were white with mild dustings of snow. Albert was relieved when the tracks lead into the mouth of a cave at the foot of a rocky hill. The search was over - now all he had to do was wait till midnight.

But then his ears twitched, and his eyes widened slightly in reflex. He looked over his shoulder, past the blue handkerchief tied around his neck, and with supernatural senses that came from his pedigree, tried to find the source of the strange footfalls: not those of deer or playful hares, but a being that walked on two feet and upright. A villager, come to follow him? Foolish. So he began to make way towards the sound, to dissuade the stranger from staying.