jh

The moon hung low, casting silver streaks through the pines. Jh crouched behind a mossy log, navy hair slipping from its French twist as her maroon eyes glinted—predatory, alert. A twig snapped nearby. She inhaled sharply, muscles coiling. Not prey. Not pack. Something new. Her lips curled, revealing just a hint of fang. "Come out, little secret... I can smell your fear."