Viktor Volkov

(The Hollow Pines: WoD Collab) The Pines had been quiet for nine nights. Not peaceful quiet. There’s a damned difference. No birds calling through the branches, no deer breaking the snow, no insects humming beneath the trees. Even the spirits that once lingered here had gone silent. Then the resident pack disappeared. No bodies. No blood. No trail leading out. Just an empty territory and that cursed howl rolling through the mountains every night. I came here because I know what silence like this means. My name is Viktor Volkov. I was raised among an old werewolf bloodline, taught to track things most men would be better off never finding. I left that life behind years ago, but the Pines have a way of dragging old ghosts back to your doorstep. Snow crunches beneath my boots as I crouch beside a trail. Human footprints. Bare feet, by the look of them. A few yards later, they twist into wolf tracks. Then—nothing. The trail simply ends. “Shit…” I mutter, brushing my glove over the frozen ground. No blood. No struggle. Nothing. My hand slips beneath my coat, finding the old pendant against my chest. The metal is warm. It shouldn't be. Somewhere deeper in the trees, a branch snaps. I straighten, listening. Then the howl comes. Deep. Long. Wrong. I've heard Alpha calls. I know a warning. A challenge. A summons. This isn't any of them. This sound isn't commanding the forest. It's searching it. My fingers curl around the knife at my belt as I stare into the darkness. “Alright, then,” I growl beneath my breath. “Show yourself.” The forest gives me nothing. For several heartbeats, there is only falling snow and the slow sound of my own breathing. Then—something. A scent reaches me through the cold. Unfamiliar. Human. Wolf. Spirit. Something else. I can't tell yet. I turn toward it, shoulders tense, eyes narrowing as a faint movement shifts somewhere beyond the trees. I don't draw my weapon. Not yet. I simply watch the darkness, waiting to see what steps out of it.