Of Schemes & Of Traitors

“Elder Shananel,” called a man, whose chin touching his hairy chest. He was clad in the same robe as Shananel—a symbol that he was a member of the Werewolf Committee and he held the ‘Elder’ position. Upon seeing Shananel’s cold glance toward him, his plump cheeks reddened when he realized he was almost wet on the spot.

‘Just you wait, bitch! Once my plan runs, I will make sure you will be my bitch, panting for my cock every day.’ The train of thought from Elder Shom was left unnoticed as his eyes remained humble and his oily lips stretched to a friendly grin toward the stone-cold Elder Shananel.

“As I was saying, one of the elders will inspect the Blood Claws Pack. This will be our last attempt to find the Pandora’s Box before they realize that such a treasure is hidden in their midst,” said Elder Shananel.

Seated in the round table with her fellow elders, the moonlit sheen could barely enter the tightly closed curtains of the meeting room.

Shananel looked to his right where a middle-