text: You slowly approach the group of hunters, head down. You take  One of the Hunters lets out a yell, as they group quickly turn around to aim at you.
  
  
  "It's trying to communicate," one of the Hunters says incredulously. "It's non-hostile."
  
  
  "It's must have some dregs of humanity left. Keep aim, lads!" Ernest shouts.
  
  
  You pause, eyes flickering over the leader of the Hunters, wondering where you recognize him from. Some distant memory that's rapidly fading from your mind. Soon, you no longer remember his name, only recognizing his status as leader through his physical cues. The Hunters faces twist into ones of confusion and malice, but they hold fire.
  
  
  "Listen to me, beast," Ernest says sternly, sighing his face. "If you can hear me, it's OK. We need to put you down. I think that we both know that. I know you did, somewhere it what remains of your soul. It's OK. It'll be OK. May God have mercy on your soul."
  
  
  Feeling pain run through you, you lower your face, not able to meet his gaze as you try to decide your future.
  > You slaughter them all
  You let out a fearsome roar, bursting forward with a roar. The Hunters balk at the sound, as you dive forward, claws raised and teeth bared.
  
  
  The Hunters are used to dealing with werewolves, but you're no mere werewolf. You are the champion of Fenrir. You have his strength, his speed, his abilities, his ferocity. They don't have a chance. You swing your claw, tearing through a Hunter's neck and nearly beheading him with a spurt of blood, sending them flying aside. Your maw snaps onto a Hunter's arm and tearing it off with one motion, throwing it across the earth. You dive aside, dodging a barrage of bullets. You lunge forward, tackling a Hunter and crushing her under your weight and crushing her lungs. You reach your jaws down, tearing out her throat with ease, as you stare over towards the survivors, blood dripping from your maw as you let out a low growl. 
  
  
  The last two Hunters turn, fleeing back towards their truck, running desperately as if they have some hope of escape. You easily race down to catch them, knocking away one of their legs and crushing his skull, before tackling the last one and slashing through her neck with your claws. Victorious, you howl towards the moon, laughter racing through you.
  
  
  You look at the scene around of you, slaughtered Hunters lying dead on the ground, blood sinking into the ground. There's no place for you hear. Prey, all slaughtered like lambs.Too weak for you.
  
  
  You hear a few scattered howls through the forest, the answer of the surviving werewolves to your call. You howl once more, calling them to you. You have no need for Hunters anymore. You have your own predators now. 