"It's been so long..." Cold sighed as he breathed deep from the chill midnight air, steam hissing from his muzzle and nostrils and for a moment turning him into a dangerous fire-breathing beast in the dappled shadows of the empty street. "Almost long enough to forgive the stench of human clouding up my fresh air." Cold was still getting used to the taste of air again. Admittedly, they all were. He didn't really know when he'd ever stop, but ever since his return from Emea, he found it all the more important to enjoy it while it lasted. Plus, his newfound wolf-senses made it so much easier. Even outside of his wolf-form, he could smell the lilac-infused soap drifting through someone's shuttered window as they took a bath. A roasting pie; beef, perhaps, with... were those mushrooms? The moment he slipped back into the comforting skin of a shaggy-furred wolf, he remembered what it was like to roam, and hunt, and
dominate the Spectral Forest like it was his own. "Oh, you miss that, huh?"
"Behave, the pair of you," Greyhide sighed from the other side. "You don't want to end up frightening guards with a whole pack of wild wolves, roaming the streets, do you?"
Vabina snorted from behind them. "And what if they do?" All five wolves stopped to look back at the giant lightning-cat. "Think they're going to recognise you while you're this?" she asked, lifting her chin towards Nir'wei in the middle of still adjusting to his wolf-form. Indistinguishable from the rest of them, apart from slight differences in colour. He was perhaps even more anonymous than when he wore his charms. Just a feral wolf that managed to sneak past the gates and now roamed the streets. What would they do? What
could they do? He was almost eager to find out, just to terrify a few bored guardsmen on duty with the sheer spectacle. Make a drunken lout or two crap their breeches on the street and be forced to waddle home in their own mess.
There was something darker in their minds, though. "Remember those notices hanging on the boards?" How could he forget; they were caked with cries for help with everything from collecting plants to hunting down dangerous beasts. "And the killings?" Well, that too, but he'd intentionally scanned over those.
It wasn't his area. Hunts could always be justified by the need for survival, for the protection of territory and those that used it, or in the extreme cases, the personal gain of the kill. But this was a human. Not a common beast that didn't know better, or wanted to contest them for superiority, or even protect itself for self-evident reasons - it was killing just for the sport of it. And by hunting it down, they'd be no better. Hunting for the fun of hunting down a human. Justice was a hollow shield to hide behind. A thing of many faces depending on from which angle you looked at it, and always defined by the victor. To call it protection against a foul beast would be no better justification than what the killer likely used himself. The more he looked at it, there really was no other way to look at it. It was hunting for sport.
But why did the idea
excite him? Was it the conquest of the streets and the criminal that roamed them? The satisfaction of pitting his strength, every once of it, against an opponent? Or just the overwhelming feral need to sink his
teeth into something?
Unfortunately, all this energy was wasted. They didn't even have a direction to start in. It wasn't the same as taking down a deer; they had to be precise when they went for the kill. None of it could be accomplished within a single night... and as much as it utterly galled him and the others to admit, neither could it be done alone. If they were going to hunt a human... well, they were going to need at least one or two humans to help point them all in the right direction.
But then... yes, and then they would take their prize.
Nir'wei swallowed a deep, slow breath. And he stood on two legs once more, the wolves and Zephyrus nothing more than shadows on the wall, visible only to him. "I hope this isn't going to turn into a habit." Losing control of his own thoughts and instincts wasn't anywhere near as fun as it sounded, and it was almost out of reflex that he snatched the vaguely familiar scrap of paper from the nearby job board and scanned through it a second time. "... Huh." The notice at the bottom hadn't been pinned there the last time.
***
He absolutely hated bars. Too crowded, too noisy, too full of people... drunk, loud, unpredictable people. He had to resist making a face as he pushed between two barrel-chested sailors, too lost in laughter and drink to even notice him pushing them aside to make it to the furthest corner of the inn. "You the one?" He looked the man up and down and back up again with a faintly disinterested eye. "Hope you've got something to bring to the table besides looks. How much do you know? Where's he attacked last? How'd he manage it without being seen?" As far as he knew there were plenty of people that wanted this guy dead that wouldn't mind the opportunity to rip this guy a new one, and he could probably start with the parents and family members of each of his victims; no need to settle for second best in matters like these, especially if he was going to get his much-needed satisfaction out of it.