"Ah, yes. I will. Then, see you." A brown-haired man with a deep scar running down his cheek waved casually at the woman by the guild's entrance before walking away.
The night was quiet. The gambling dens had already closed their doors, but down another lane, the brothels were still alive with laughter and muffled music.
The man paid them no heed. His stride was steady, untempted by the noise or lights.
Once he reached a more deserted stretch of street, he pulled a shroud over his head. Slowly, his body began to change.
His legs elongated and bent, his skin darkened before turning silver, and long coarse hair sprouted across his back. His arms stretched, his shoulders widened, and his eyes gleamed with a golden hue.
Within moments, the man was gone. A wolfkin now walked in his place.
His steps, though heavier, made little sound as he moved through the night toward his temporary shelter.
Alazar wasn't supposed to be here. Circumstances had forced his hand.
