The wand appeared, that damnable wizards crutch, and Fenrirs gaze flickered. To the wand, register, back to his opponents eyes. When it refixed on Kenneths own stare, the fury that boiled unhidden within his golden glare burned visible in an inner glow. Bloodshot streaks began creeping in from the sides. Oh how he despised magic.

The rules of nature endanger the lives of innocents who would otherwise be safe from being murdered at the hands of something they are not equipped to fight off, and those who arent killed are doomed to live a life they didnt choose. You say our rules dont help our people survive, yet your kind kills the weak without a purpose. The victims, those that die, arent used as a food source. Nature doesnt dictate death without a purpose, we both know that.

Our rules merely state that your kind make use of various secluded hunting grounds weve designated around the country on the night of the full moon, and that is neither cruel nor unreasonable. It keeps the innocents safe and if those simple regulations cant be followed, then we reserve the right to do what is necessary to protect our own. A feeling I daresay you understand, Greyback.


Oh, he listened. He wasnt proud or stupid enough to attack when the foul beast before him pulled that sort of cheap shot. It seemed the man wanted to talk, and beat out their differences that way. Fine. Hed play the idiotic game of words. For now. So Fenrir waited until the bushy-haired wizards trap was shut, a tic settling into the corner of his right eye. The only part he agreed with was the last, and he met Kenneths silence with a grunt.

Your secluded hunting grounds, rumbled the heavy mans voice, dripping with hatred during his emphasized words, are deserted scraps of scarred, worthless. Fenrir drew himself up, lifting his head above his opponents as he took in a deep breath, the extreme dissatisfaction he felt toward the reservations cutting off his words.

For one who feels obliged to lecture about natures laws, you are terribly unknowing. Of course, suchs the way of wizards. You swagger about with yer magic and spout off useless nonsense, assuring everyone that its to their best interest just because its to your best ease. Have you lived withoucher wand, Macmillian? Ever? Ever been at the mercy of the elements, with no cushy magic tsummon food and warmth? Nothing tward off the biting flies? Nothing tshield yer prey-scent from predators? I doubt it.

You dont know the half of it. Butcher stupidity asks, and so I will answer. Wrong, fool. All that we kill, we use. If that is in food, or warmth, or medicineit is used. He snatched at the surface of his robes, which were made of various animal hides crudely sewn together with sinew thread; and, sneering, continued. Dyou think I bought this, wizard?