[center][h1][color=662d91]Genevieve Alleron[/color][/h1]
[i]Salem Woods
Day one - Late afternoon/ Early evening
Interacting with [@ihinka][/i][/center]

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The soft reddening light of the setting sun shone between the turning leaves overhead, casting shadows through the woods as the woman walked home. Salem Woods was really more of an overly large natural park, but it was nice to have a bit of green in her backyard, especially as it helped keep a barrier between herself and her neighbors. Small suburban community as it was, she doubted anyone was going to be overly sociable when it was a school night. That meant peace and quiet, as soon as all the children made it back home. With the day coming to a close they would likely be trying to get as much time outside as they could.

Her idle thoughts shifted a moment to the card in her pocket, of the chance encounter and how that might fit into the change in atmosphere in Salem of late. To her everything was a potential threat, and it was all a matter of evaluating whether or not it was one to her or not. At times she did think that maybe it would help to relax a little bit, to let someone in and allow an actual friendship, but such thinking never benefit anyone in either lines of work she was in. Probably why so many of them became alcoholics. Now that drew a particularly nasty frown, Genevieve once more putting herself into a foul mood by overthinking things.

It was short lived though, as she had other things to occupy her thoughts beyond her own alcoholism and slight paranoia. A small part of her insisted on making that call in the morning, though she had to wonder when an appropriate time would be. Not everyone woke up at the crack of dawn, herself among those who chose to sleep in. That proved a viable enough distraction as she placed one foot in front of the other, steadily moving towards her home on Intervale and either Netflix or yet another terrible romance novel. Ah, the choices.

A sound from not too far away caught her attention before she could make that crucial decision. It was muffled through the ground-cover and distant sounds of evening traffic, but she recognized it immediately. Her body went cold instinctively, already light skin paling and her pupils dilating from that feeling of dread stirring within and her fight or flight response triggering. To anyone else it may simply sound like some feral dogs, maybe even stray wolves or coyotes. For someone with experience in the supernatural, it was distinctive and immediate. [i]Werewolves[/i]. Not just one or two fighting for dominance, or not too uncommonly mating, but a good number of them brawling in what sounded like a life or death fight. To Genevieve, she felt first the paralyzation of her muscles, an unwillingness to move despite an intense need to get as far away as possible. Then almost falling over as they finally responded to her, leaving her braced against a tree and taking in deep breaths.

Breathe in… And out. Deep and steady breaths, slow the pounding in her chest. It was easier said than done, and took all of her focus to simply calm herself down from that first panicked moment and gather herself. Werewolves. In Salem. Of course there were plenty, a good number simply young mutts out to do what they did best, but she heard that the alpha was particularly experienced and deadly. As much as she wanted to simply turn the other way and let them fight it out to the death, she had a responsibility and couldn't let them just fight out in the open like this. The fewer people who knew about the supernatural, the safer they were.

That thought allowed her a small respite. Yes, she had a duty. She needed to steel herself and fulfill that duty. Slowly Genevieve stood, unsteady at first but soon enough she had her pistol in her hand and checked the safety. Ready to fire. The magazine popped out with a press of the release, allowing her to see the very reassuring silver of the hollowpoints sitting in the mechanism. Always prepared, always willing. It was time to intervene, whether she was ready to or not, so she put one foot towards the fight. That singular motion was enough to shake free the chains of fear, not completely but enough to loosen their binds and give her room to work with.

Genevieve moved with more and more purpose the closer she got to the brawl, seeing through the foliage a whirlwind of teeth and fur, claws ripping gouges out of whatever they sank into. One in particular was a fairly massive brute of jet fur, rippling muscle and sheer rage. She could see it in his eyes as he twisted to attack a smaller white werewolf. There was only primal fury in them, a need to destroy. Two others attacked with it, and at just a glance it was obvious the white one was the target of this attack, for what reason she didn't know and honestly didn't care. They were all about to get a bullet.

With confidence she strode from cover, pistol held forward and finger pulling the trigger. Silver wounded and usually killed werewolves, but any hunter knew that their most powerful weapons were two things. Experience, which imparted knowledge of the supernatural and how to destroy them, and confidence. More often than not, it was the latter that sent lesser threats running. She was counting on that as she put every ounce of her willpower into a powerful stride directly towards the brawl, flashes of igniting powder lighting up her determined face.

Her first shot impacted heavily against the flank of the largest, not that she was aiming for him specifically, but that he proved the largest target and biggest threat. The silver tip burned upon entry, dragging a howl of pain that twisted into sheer agony as the petals broke away and buried themselves deep in the muscle. A second shot skipped across the back of one of the smaller ferals, while her third and fourth knocked the last one out of the brawl completely as they bracketed the rib cage and left it laying in the dirt unmoving. Genevieve didn't stop moving even as her arrival was noticed, putting a fifth shot towards the white one for good measure and her eyes moving quickly from each of the remaining werewolves to see where the rest of her magazine was going to go.

What had started as a life or death fight between werewolves had suddenly escalated with the presence of a Huntress, and deadly silver slinging across the rapidly closing distance between them...