Quietly she moved deeper into the forest. The land her grandmother owned was vast and most of it was woods. Due to her movement, concentration and the simple fact that it was humid, her body began to perspire. Slowly her natural smell was beginning to drift light upon the air. She knew that it was a severe disadvantage. Disguising her scent was not an option either. Not only did it take time to do but would also leave a visible trail to follow. Inira  wanted to believe that this was just a stupid werewolf overran by its animalistic urges. She wanted to believe that she was walking through the woods wasting her time, because thinking in the other direction was too heart stopping...<br/><br/>5 hunters killed… Each skilled, though none of them quite her caliber.  Then allowing himself to be spotted less than 100 miles from her grandmother’s home… Her heart wanted to rush, but she forced to remain slow. She choked down her fear for her grandmother. The huntress had been forced to put the elder woman in a nursing home 5 years before. Did this fiend know who owned the house? Her last name was different. Inira made sure to have no paper ties to the house… but if one dug back long enough… it would be possible to tie her to this place.<br/><br/>Her instincts told her she was not wasting her time. She was human and all of the other things that he described… but she was more. Blessed, gifted… it was in her blood; blood that would be traced back generations of beautiful, deadly and intelligent red haired women. If one could believe the insane ramblings of Grandma Minna one could go over a millennia to the dark days before the country of Germany even existed. The woman had been insane since Inira was 7 years old… when her parents were killed. The red haired huntress did not believe it. She was good fighting, tracking and even the arcane arts because her heart never recovered from the loss of her parents. In that sense both she and her grandmother were broken.<br/><br/>Time had lost importance to the lethally built woman. Those most of her attention was to the ground, occasionally something drew her eyes up toward the trees. She had to bring her focus back down, werewolves didn’t climb trees, not even when cornered. It wasn’t instinctual for them to do so. She continued on deeper into the tangled darkness of the woods. Only the thinnest light of the full moon slithered through the trees, but with the goggles she could see as if it were dusk.<br/><br/>Then she heard the sound of an animal running. It had been almost unnaturally quiet so far and no animal she stirred would be bounding towards her. After taking a solid stance the woman aimed her pistol in the direction of the sound and sent a speeding and spinning silver bullet as a greeting.<br/>