Chapter 1
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South Western United States. Her name was Rebecca. She looked young and strong as she simply say on her Harley, looking at the desolate biker bar before her. The wind blew across the desert highway and she could smell old blood, fresh blood and fear so strong it would have paralyzed anyone.
She sighed lightly and rubbed her forehead. She was tired. She had just road across the U.S. from Boston, never stopping except for fuel. She had called her sweet Olen on the way and told him this was her last fight. She could not go on beyond this fight. He said he understood. He thanked her for the many many years she had gifted him when he thought his world was done. Oh! how she was going to miss that wolf. She had probably dragged her miserable life along another 30 years because she couldn't bear to let him go.
Another sigh; she had to kill this rabid wolf tonight, before he could move on to new different hunting grounds and killed dozens more. She had felt his killing intent for a couple weeks. She was just unable to pinpoint his location until he started killing. Old Jocko was several centuries old, cunning, devious and had lost his last shred of humanity. From the breeze that was gently blowing she could if she tried pick out who he had killed , when he had killed them and how. She didn't want this but it was one of many curses and gifts bestowed upon her. Sadly, she knew Jocko had killed a few old wolves she had known.
Becca entered the dimly lit bar and in a glance saw two college girls who thought they were on an adventure huddled in a corner. They were hugging each other as if the other was a life raft in an endless sea. Jocko was waiting in the shadows. She could make out his shadow and smell his insanity. The bar was trashed. Broken furniture, glass, blood and remains of people were thrown about as if a tornado had existed only in this building.
Becca walked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey that had managed to survive the onslaught. Ignoring the crazed wolf and the newly created female wolves, she poured a drink. "Jocko, come out come out wherever you are!" She tossed back the drink and added a little "push" into her command. There wasn't a wolf born that could defy her.
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South Western United States. Her name was Rebecca. She looked young and strong as she simply say on her Harley, looking at the desolate biker bar before her. The wind blew across the desert highway and she could smell old blood, fresh blood and fear so strong it would have paralyzed anyone.
She sighed lightly and rubbed her forehead. She was tired. She had just road across the U.S. from Boston, never stopping except for fuel. She had called her sweet Olen on the way and told him this was her last fight. She could not go on beyond this fight. He said he understood. He thanked her for the many many years she had gifted him when he thought his world was done. Oh! how she was going to miss that wolf. She had probably dragged her miserable life along another 30 years because she couldn't bear to let him go.
Another sigh; she had to kill this rabid wolf tonight, before he could move on to new different hunting grounds and killed dozens more. She had felt his killing intent for a couple weeks. She was just unable to pinpoint his location until he started killing. Old Jocko was several centuries old, cunning, devious and had lost his last shred of humanity. From the breeze that was gently blowing she could if she tried pick out who he had killed , when he had killed them and how. She didn't want this but it was one of many curses and gifts bestowed upon her. Sadly, she knew Jocko had killed a few old wolves she had known.
Becca entered the dimly lit bar and in a glance saw two college girls who thought they were on an adventure huddled in a corner. They were hugging each other as if the other was a life raft in an endless sea. Jocko was waiting in the shadows. She could make out his shadow and smell his insanity. The bar was trashed. Broken furniture, glass, blood and remains of people were thrown about as if a tornado had existed only in this building.
Becca walked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey that had managed to survive the onslaught. Ignoring the crazed wolf and the newly created female wolves, she poured a drink. "Jocko, come out come out wherever you are!" She tossed back the drink and added a little "push" into her command. There wasn't a wolf born that could defy her.
South Western United States. Her name was Rebecca. She looked young and strong as she simply say on her Harley, looking at the desolate biker bar before her. The wind blew across the desert highway and she could smell old blood, fresh blood and fear so strong it would have paralyzed anyone.She sighed lightly and rubbed her forehead. She was tired. She had just road across the U.S. from Boston, never stopping except for fuel. She had called her sweet Olen on the way and told him this was her last fight. She could not go on beyond this fight. He said he understood. He thanked her for the many many years she had gifted him when he thought his world was done. Oh! how she was going to miss that wolf. She had probably dragged her miserable life along another 30 years because she couldn't bear to let him go.Another sigh; she had to kill this rabid wolf tonight, before he could move on to new different hunting grounds and killed dozens more. She had felt his killing intent for a couple weeks. She was just unable to pinpoint his location until he started killing. Old Jocko was several centuries old, cunning, devious and had lost his last shred of humanity. From the breeze that was gently blowing she could if she tried pick out who he had killed , when he had killed them and how. She didn't want this but it was one of many curses and gifts bestowed upon her. Sadly, she knew Jocko had killed a few old wolves she had known.Becca entered the dimly lit bar and in a glance saw two college girls who thought they were on an adventure huddled in a corner. They were hugging each other as if the other was a life raft in an endless sea. Jocko was waiting in the shadows. She could make out his shadow and smell his insanity. The bar was trashed. Broken furniture, glass, blood and remains of people were thrown about as if a tornado had existed only in this building.Becca walked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey that had managed to survive the onslaught. Ignoring the crazed wolf and the newly created female wolves, she poured a drink. "Jocko, come out come out wherever you are!" She tossed back the drink and added a little "push" into her command. There wasn't a wolf born that could defy her.
