Show Us Your Honor

Just as Ironclaw said, this was an ambush. A well prepared ambush...

Amidst the haunting glow of the full moon night, the forest had laid cloaked in silvered luminescence.

A group of hunters, seasoned warriors clad in dark leather, crept through the underbrush, their swords, bows, and arrows were at the ready.

Their eyes were shadowed by the brims of their hoods, and it held a dangerous gleam in them.

These hunters were not newbies to the hunt.

They knew of the Werewolves and their nocturnal rendezvous, drawn to the forest's heart by the desperate instinctive cries of a young member of the Werecat in need.

It was obvious that they had intentionally allowed this one, young Werecat to survive.

She might have been a Werecat and the Werewolves were not always on good terms with them, but Supernatural creatures had an unspoken code to help one another, a fierce protectiveness of their reducing number by the hunters menace.

A code well known by the hunters to set an ambush, for it was not only bloodlust that coursed through the veins of the shape-shifters but also a deep, familial bond.

Silent as ghosts, the hunters positioned themselves amidst the giant ancient trees. Their breaths hung in the frosty air, mingling with the scent of pine and earth. A skill that Hunters master before the age of ten.

Even the howls of the werewolves as they arrived did not make them move a muscle as they used their techniques to hide from the moonlight.

For the hunters, not even their soul energy glistened off the swords and arrows.

All of them laid in wait.

Usually, the Werewolves might have noticed the eerie glints that mirrored the impending battle's tension in the air.

After all, it was not just their sense of smell and sight that they depended on.

However, the cry of a Were in need was often very blinding.

The Werewolves, their eyes aglow with amber fire, padded into the clearing.

With their swift response to the call and the momentum they used to make their entrance, they were a sight to behold, their fur matted with moonlit dew, their senses honed to the scent of the young one in peril.

Ironclaw, had reached for the young one the moment his senses caught sight of the wounds on the other two as he screamed loudly.

"AMBUSH!!!"

But not in time.

The hunters unleashed their arrows, their blades slicing through the night.

A deadly volley found its mark among oncoming werewolves, who howled in anguish.

And before anyone knew it...

Swords met claws and teeth, a melee of ferocity and desperation, where the hunters' valor was tested against the primal fury of the Weres.

The battle raged on and the moon, casted an unyielding light upon the scene, bearing witness to a struggle not only between man and monster but also between duty and empathy.

As the lead werewolf, Alpha and the pack's protector, Ironclaw bared his fangs, every inch the savage guardian that he was.

He leaped onto the neck of an unfortunate hunter, as he threw the Werecat cub in the air for Denver to catch behind him.

His unforgiving jaws tearing into the flesh as he extracted a bite so big practically half of the unlucky shoulder was gone.

Blood like a fountain rushed into the sky as if to stain the silver moon itself.

Other Werewolves, the likes of Tam did not shy behind their Alpha.

They each took opponents to themselves, barring their claws and fangs.

Amongst them, Dan, Gray's elder brother, every bit a savage like his father displayed incredible tenacity to cause chaos as his fangs pierced through flesh like hot knife through butter.

In no time, the fight had ended just as quick as it started.

At the end the hunters were much fewer than expected. Obviously, this was a terrible ambush.

The Werewolves only lost one person, and that was the unfortunate individual that had been the first to be shot by the rain of arrows that were meant for Ironclaw.

In the end, the forest was left scarred and silent, save for the sharp panting of breathes of the Werewolves.

In total, they had been six humans, all of whom were young, with the oldest one only being about twenty years in age.

Ironclaw frowned at this. His sharp senses cultivated over a long period of time told him that something was not right.

The hunters that died did not seem capable of killing these two dead Werecats on the ground.

Immediately, he pulled the Werecat child, grabbing the young girl only around age 13 or 14 by the arms "Tell me little one. What happened?"

The child try to talk but her but the rush of fear and sadness still overwhelmed her.

"They... They... killed," she burst once more into tears.

Denver immediately stepped forward, "Wait, let me help her."

Immediately, she grabbed the young girl by the arm as she activated her bloodline ability.

~Bloodline: Cryosoul~

Instantly, cool energy flowed from Denver into the body of the Werecat, instantly calming her fears, and fierce adrenaline induced state.

Meanwhile, Tam stood as he whispered softly with some of the elders.

The Werecat took calming breaths as she felt better.

"Now, tell us young one. What happened?" She asked softly.

The Werecat nodded.

"The hunters, they came for our village. They killed Mama and Papa."

Ironclaw frowned as he came closer, "Tell me, these hunters, are there any more?"

The Werecat nodded. "Yes, they were many."

Denver looked at Ironclaw and then he back at her.

"We have to go and help them," Denver added.

Ironclaw nodded, "I know! Let Rose take her back to join the little ones at the Ancient altar. We will go help our brethren."

Denver nodded and called Rose over to take the cub.

Ironclaw stood to his feet, "Let's go!" He commanded.

However, only after taking a few steps forward, he noticed that apart from Denver and Dan, the others did not follow behind him.

He stopped in his tracks and turned about to the rest of his pack. He frowned, "Did you all not hear my orders?"

Just then, elder Tam walked forward. He said only one sentence "Ironclaw, show us your Honor and Dethrone..."