It had been a month since you disgraced the family name by botching that hunt. You still hadn't heard the end of it. Eventually you got fed up and in your recklessness you decided to go on a hunt by yourself. You catch wind of an area in Appalachia where a new, dangerous pack had sprung up, and you decide taking them down would be just the thing to prove yourself.

You get to the Appalachias. After a long journey you're already getting tired. Rain starts to pour down hard. You stop in the first town you get to off the highway. Its small and quaint, and quiet. Too quiet.

A small dive bar is where you end up pulling into. You see an attachment behind it with a sign that reads "Vacancies" in neon lights. Maybe you could get a drink and stay here for a bit. There's a few bikes outside and that's all.

You step inside, holding your jacket around yourself for warmth. You're a bit too underprepared to take them head on. Inside its warm. It smells like stale beer and a hint of wet dog. Quickly all five people in the bar let their eyes fall to you. They all follow you as you walk up to the bar and sit down.

The bartender, a very large woman with a buzzcut and piercing grey eyes. She leans towards you.

"And what can we help you with, little lady?" Her voice is like gravel.