The polar wind stirred the fabric of the scientist's polar jacket.
Stan's chest felt strange upon seeing this...
He had, in his life, seen violent death before. He had caused violent death in the past twenty-four hours. He had watched a Royal Blood torture a werewolf pack leader with something close to enjoyment less than an hour earlier.
This was different.
The scientist had not been armed. He had been holding binoculars. His voice, over the loudspeaker, had ordered his soldiers to detain, not to fire. The soldiers had fired only after Camilla had begun killing them. They had been doing their jobs. They had been ordinary human beings employed by a government that had sent them into the field to investigate an anomaly.
They were not the Red Serpents. They were not the werewolves. They had not consented to this.
