Alexander
Marcel is terrified.
I do my best to block out his thoughts, though it’s nearly as taxing to actively not pay attention to his thoughts as it is to have them swirling in my brain. My sword is already drawn as my Beta and I step between the bodies of my fallen guards.
Or at least what’s left of them.
“Silver?” Marcel whispers, eyes darting around the surrounding forest outside the witch’s modest cabin.
I nod in confirmation. Only silver would eat away at lycan flesh like this. I can see the way it’s still burning its away over a few remaining limbs and heads, the muscle and bone disintegrating into a chunky mush.
If the werewolves didn’t know before what silver does to us, they do now.
I sent five guards to retrieve the witch, hoping the entourage would make her feel sa
