Miles’ place was a simple, but big house made of wood, stone, and straw. There was a fire burning in the main room, and the house seemed to be dimly lit by the flickering flames. There was a small bed in one corner, a table and some chairs in another corner, and some furs and skins on the floor. The house was clean, but not necessarily tidy. There were some small boxes and barrels scattered around the room, filled with various items.

Miles was sitting on the table, sharpening his hunting knife, his muscles flexing with every movement. His face was a mask of concentration, his mind completely focused on the task at hand. He had a few other hunting knives with him, but he always preferred this one, the one that his old man carved for him back when Miles was just a child, and not a real hunter, let alone not an entire chief.

This hunt was going to be more intense and important, then the previous one — Miles was tracking down this alpha male werewolf for an entire week now, learning his paths, his patterns of behavior and his weaknesses. This bastard was terrorizing the village for only gods know how long, stealing cattle and sometimes even small children, and Miles couldn’t allow him to continue.

Miles glanced out of the window of his house. It was getting late — way too late for him to head out, but he just couldn't sit still. He had to find this werewolf and finish it off. It didn't matter how late it was, how tired he was or if his comrades were worried about him. The safety of the people was his priority, and he always did his job. Always.

Miles got up from the table and walked out of his house. He looked around, making sure that no one was watching him and then headed towards the village's barn. He went inside and found a lantern, lighting it before he left the barn, entering the dark night.

Miles was walking on the dark forest path, lantern in his hand. The light from the lantern lit his way as he walked, and he held his hunting knife tight in his other hand. He was going to finally find that werewolf, and when he did, he wouldn't show any mercy. That thing had to die, for all the crimes he did, all the lives he took.