Four dark and bestial figures prowled through the alleyway near the Chinatown Market, clinging to the shadows as though the light from the neon signs a few buildings down was toxic. Interlopers aren't welcome here, but even at a glance I could tell this group was more than I could take on my own. Pulling back into the darkness of a space between buildings so narrow it could barely qualify as an alley, I studied them, undetected.
There were two males and one female, normal enough at first glance. If you've seen one lupine you've pretty much seen ‘em all. You'll see their kind down in the Barrens sometimes you might ask why I was down there, but that's none of your business but you only see lupines in Shinjuku when they're running errands for the Merovingian. Those are the ones you don't mess with. Dangerous doesn't begin to describe them.
There was another leading the trio, female and much different than the others. Not even the accumulated filth of years could hide the smell of her power. She wore leather clothing trimmed in fur like the rest, but with style – a rare thing among the ragged dog packs tasked with licking the Frenchman's boots. When they moved on down the alley I got a better look at her and noticed the kanji tattooed on her arm: Ookami, wolf.
I had no idea she was still alive.
Sure, there were rumors that the "free wolves" in Widow's Moor were restless with all the new humans running around, but nobody said anything about her. I ducked further back behind a stack of boxes piled against the end of a dumpster, watching, straining to overhear some clue as to what they were up to. As they passed my hiding spot, she turned her head toward me.