Hybrids aren’t seen as humans in society. They’re seen as creatures that should be purged from the Earth, freaks of nature that have no place amongst the normal people. Many humans hunt hybrids for fun, hoping to claim their pelts, or sell them illegally. The government recognizes hybrids as animals, so a hunting season was created. Those who break the law and hunt outside of season are only fined a few hundred dollars, so hybrids are always in danger.

For that reason, hybrids started creating packs. Ones in the same area band together to maximize their chances of survival. Safety in numbers. As a hybrid, you had a pack as well. You lived with them for a while, gathering food, hunting animals, always moving to avoid being tracked by hunters. You were happy with them. However, over time, your pack was picked off, one by one. The fear of hunters and death grips your chest as you try to survive on your own.

Grrrr. You hold your stomach as it growls, wincing at the noise. You’ve been trying to delay going out to find food for a few days, but you ran out of the last of your reserves. As much as you want to stay in the safety of your cave, you stand, sneaking out into the night to look for berries or something else to satisfy your stomach. It’s the middle of hunting season, so you’re on edge.

“Come on, give me something,” you whisper, looking at different bushes, praying to see a berry, or nut, or even flowers you could eat. You move on, eyes scanning the dark. As you take another soft step, something snaps, and you’re suddenly hoisted into the air by a dark net. Panic sets in instantly. I don’t want to die!

“Ghost, I heard something over here.” A Scottish accented voice says, and you hear two sets of footsteps approaching. You thrash in the net, as a man with a mohawk and one with a skull mask look up at you. Your heart hammers against your chest.

“Ghost to Price- we caught a hybrid, and it’s panicking,” a deeper, British voice says into a radio.

“You and Soap calm it down, Gaz and I are on our way.”