[center][h2][b][u]Hunting with Wolves: Part 1[/u][/b][/h2]

[img]https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSTeNfo7a1_8UhsZzfhr3VD3qSoBwfqlizPnZ1rKMJ-X54kTw6g4Q[/img]
[img] https://i.imgur.com/ZnOpQuF.png[/img][/center] 
Location: Zion National Park, Utah. Nearly 2 hours and a half outside of Nevada. 
Time:  Evening, month after the HoH attack. 
[hr]
Ben bounced in the old pickup truck’s seat. Each bump jousted his figure in the cab as he fought to remain still, getting bruises on his side when he failed. It was obvious the suspension needed to be worked on. However, the owner hadn’t the money or the time. As Duff put it, training a pup was a full-time job. 

Thinking of this, Ben’s eyes drifted over toward his mentor. 

Duff Muir. The gruff, elderly man sat in the driver’s seat where he stared ahead. His weathered hand lazily sat on the wheel’s top while he guided the rusty thing through the narrow path. In the rearview mirror, a red dust billowed behind and obscured its view. The old werewolf didn’t seem to notice as he kept driving forward. Greasy, salt and pepper hair hid underneath an ivy cap sitting lopsided on his skull. His free hand took out the hand-rolled cigarette wedged between his teeth then flicked the amber tip through the cracked window. Duff’s fingers lazily scratched his scraggly, thin beard before noticing Ben’s eyes looking at him. 

“Wot?” His heavy Scottish accent wove through the escaping smoke. 

The elder man’s eyes crinkled causing the crows feet to deepen, aging his appearance for the moment. Though he didn’t look it, Duff was well over a hundred years old. 

The truck’s gears grinded and popped drawing a frown from Duff. He grumbled as he leaned forward, his arm jerked the gear shift down. His eyes attempted to check the gage before flopping backward. Benjamin had learned to read his expression, both by instinct and common logic. The guy wasn’t exactly hiding his frustration. 

The door handle clicked when he stepped out, his boots crunched across the gravel to the hood. He popped it up to look inside. Dark smoke escaped into the air causing the old man to hack and cough. Benjamin sighed. His eyes turned to the window, ignoring the suffocating heat wafting in to replace the earlier breeze. 

Barron had introduced Duff to him shortly after the deal in the hospital.  At first, their meeting had been fully soured by the fact the werewolf knew the vampire on a friendly level. It brought Benjamin’s suspicion and anger to the surface. Gave him a will to continue to live. There was more than one occasion they clashed in violent ways and Duff always came out on top. Joseph only stepped into the fray once. 

As days turned into nearly a week, the aggression toward each other faded until Ben finally imprinted properly with his fellow werewolf. After that, he couldn’t bring himself to bare a fang at the old wolf.  

“You piece o’ shat,” Duff grumbled, his hands reached to examine the guts. 

Curious, Ben cranked down his window then shouted to him.

[color=chocolate] “What broke on it now?”[/color]

“Nuthin’!” 

[color=chocolate] “Bullshit, I know that look,”[/color] Ben countered. 

Duff’s face peered around the upraised hood, a frown and squinted eyes plastered on it. A reddish tone even colored it. The man appeared ready to scold the daylights out of Benjamin but instead held his breath. For several moments, Benjamin wondered if Duff forgot how to breathe naturally before he gestured for Ben to hop out of the truck.  

Exhaling, he walked into Duff’s wake. The sun gradually dipped down past the hazy blue horizon. The dying light cast everything in a blood red light then faded into a deep purple, shrouded it in shadows. Duff just kept on walking. Neither of them needed the sun’s light to navigate the landscape as they trotted deeper into the park’s shallow brush.  

[color=chocolate] “What are we doing here Duff?”[/color] Benjamin asked in a hushed voice. 

“Hunting small prey, Pup,” the old man replied. 

He then added, his figure a little hunched over, “Git ready to change skins.” 

Rippp! 

Ben watched Duff’s flesh and clothing tear, their seams unable to contain the extra bulk anymore. Greyish black fur spilled out through the tears. Bones snapped then cracked, the joints readjusted to something digitigrade. A tail extended from the spine to lash at the air. Shreds of flesh fell into the ground. Upon touch, it turned to dust as the evidence vanished into the breeze. When Duff tossed his head back a loud howl escaped his throat. It died in the night. 

His wolfish head turned behind him with the demand he is not alone. The command gnawed at him causing Ben to sigh then strip naked. Unlike Duff who had no issue walking around naked, the teenager had replaced enough clothes to last him a lifetime. 

Again, the painful transformation had begun. Over the weeks he had done enough the pain quickly dulled into a faint memory. He no longer screamed or grunted, instead, he growled in impatience. There was obvious hatred in doing this. When the last of the bloodied skin dried then flaked off, he shook himself. 

In the darkness, they both appeared like oversized wolves. Bizzare natives almost. Benjamin lifted his nose into the air and took a deep inhale. Series of scents wafted all over his attention, coating it with information and direction. He settled on a rip young ram. Thick and healthy. His tongue licked his chops before he bolted into the direction with Duff hot on his heels.