The campfire was rekindled and I leaned against the tree in Kral's cape.

One of the werewolves was knocked unconscious by Alen and placed in front of Kral with his hands tied behind his back. Kral changed his clothes again, and now he was sitting on a rock with a white handkerchief to wipe the blood-stained knife from his hand.

It was the first time Alen had shown me his less gentlemanly side. With a wave of his hand, he slapped the unconscious werewolf hard. The werewolf jerked to life. Alen ...