NARRATOR

At last, everyone went their own way, splitting up outside the fortress and even making bets on who would finish first.

An hour later, the other werewolf camp was waking up.

The man in charge got word that Lord Dracomir himself wanted to give him his answer.

He stepped out of his tent calmly, unhurried; he felt he had the upper hand and didn’t mind making proud Dracomir wait.

Imagine spurning the future heiress for that mangy vampire.

He walked to his horse and set off with a small escort.

“Pack up the camp, we’re leaving as soon as I’m back!” he ordered one of his men as they galloped through the forest toward the plain.

He was surprised to see Dracomir in the distance with only one man at his side.

As he drew closer and the gusts hit him, the wolf general’s brows knit tighter.

He pulled up several meters away with his four-man escort.

“How dare you come meet me with a filthy vampire?!” he roared in fury; this felt like a mockery of his fief.

“You’ve betrayed your race, and