James || Human || Hunter || tags;; Open
- The ceremony was starting to wind down, and once they had paid their respects (or, like James, emptily gone through the motions and pretended to care), people left the scene in droves. By now, the young hunter had marked a few likely suspects in his mind's eye, and tracked their progress through the crowd. As the mourners headed to the parking lot en masse, James let himself get swept along with them, but once he reached his truck, he let the engine idle as he eyed the others making a beeline for their vehicles. He knew something was up when people who looked nothing like family and acted nothing like lovers got into their cars together- and then several cars peeled off headed in the same direction. He had to act quickly or he'd lose them. The truck's engine growled as he began to roll through the parking lot, keeping his eyes on the bumper of one car in particular.
The first part of the drive was easy. He just had to keep his distance, and blend in with the other cars on the main road. His truck was nothing spectacular; the older, slightly beat-up Ford was one of many similar vehicles in the town. But when he saw them turn off onto a small dirt road up ahead, he knew he would have to be more careful. There was no other cars to hide among here, so he slowed to a crawl and let them pull even farther away, to the point where he could only catch the rarest glimpses of their car through the trees. They were deep in the woods by now; the knowledge of prior werewolf activity in the area goaded him on, encouraging him that he was doing the right thing. He knew what he was doing was dangerous; best-case scenario, he was trespassing on someone's property, someone who probably wouldn't be happy if they noticed their unwelcome scenario. The worst-case scenario was exactly the same- except he was trespassing in werewolf territory instead, and werewolves are a lot less forgiving of such slights than humans are. He wouldn't stay long, he told himself. He'd locate wherever they lived, confirm them as werewolves, and get the hell out.
James jerked the wheel to the side and went rumbling off of the dirt track and into the woods, grateful for the four-wheel drive. He parked in the underbrush, where the sleek black truck was hidden from the road, and continued on foot. He would be less easy to notice this way, and he kept his distance from the actual path, walking among the treeline and merely following the road to his destination. He perked up when he saw something through the trees - a large home, lording over its sector of the woods. This could be just what he was looking for - which meant it could be full of werewolves. He swallowed nervously and settled in to wait just within the tree-line, where he had a clear view of the front of the building. He knew where they were, now he just needed to be absolutely sure that these were werewolves. They couldn't launch a hunt on innocent people. He had to know.
