Ray's POV
Two witches collapsed under my precise strikes, their bodies hitting the damp earth with dull thuds. Before their robes had even settled, my wolf senses prickled - eight new werewolf signatures approaching through the trees. The scent of pine and iron told me they were ours before the first one landed behind me, his heavy paws crushing fallen branches.
"Sorry, General Ray, we're—"
I didn't let him finish. Years of battlefield instincts had me spinning before conscious thought caught up, my hind leg lashing out in a punishing kick that sent him sailing through the air.
"Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhh!" His delighted scream cut through the night as he barrel-rolled toward an abandoned tent, the sound more appropriate for a pup playing than a soldier in combat.
