Leyon looked on as the two young werewolves wrestled. It had always fascinated him when two members of the same race fought each other. Even in the heat of battle, it was so controlled - so calculated. Neither member would ever turn their weapons on each other. It was all so simple.

And when they were through, they would part ways knowing that much more about each other. Sometimes, they would even part as friends.

"Shall we separate them?" A youth asked.
"Leave them be, Ajin. Just watch." Leyon answered.

Ajin looked on and watched his two friends fight. One dark-haired boy fought with a certain grace that Ajin had never seen before. The other boy, body covered in scars, was the complete opposite. He relied on his power to try and overwhelm the dark-haired boy.

Blow after blow landed, but it was the dark-haired boy who stood over the other.

"Let that be a lesson to you, Feras! You can never beat me! How many times must I bash your head in for you to understand this!?"
"You're all talk, Siras! While you may have won, I'm learning how you fight. Just you wait!"

Siras' eyes darkened with rage when he heard this. He couldn't show it, but his head was aching from the last blow Feras had landed, and he was sure that Feras' threat was not an empty one. Without thinking, Siras lunged forward with his thumbnails drawn.

A thick arm wrapped around his own, and another around his throat. The nail was hovering just inches away from Feras' throat. His eyes were widened in terror.

"That is quite enough, Siras. You should know better than to draw your nails against your kin, especially when you are victorious."

Siras shut his eyes and cleared his throat in embarrassment. Feras scrambled away and bolted back to his home. Siras mumbled something.

"I'm sorry? I couldn't hear that, boy. Speak up."
"I apologize, Leyon. It won't happen again." Siras grumbled through his teeth.

Leyon loosened his grip around Siras' arm and neck.

"Do not apologize to me, Siras. Go back to your home and apologize to your brother. I don't want to see any of that again."

Siras obeyed and shamefully walked back to his home. Ajin stood by in amazement. He had never seen Siras humbled by anybody before. In truth, Ajin found Leyon to be the most terrifying werewolf in the village as well as the most fascinating. Leyon was known throughout the land for killing countless humans with his bare hands. He had torn soldiers limb from limb; he had single-handedly built his notoriety upon the blood of lieutenants, commanders, and generals.

Yet here he was, smiling as he watched two children fight. Ajin wanted to know more about him. But before he could approach him and tug on his sleeve, one of the elders stepped out.


"Leyon! The council calls for you! Humans approach from the east!"



to be continued....