Grant Torgny

[Grant]

NAME: Grant Daven Torgny
NICKNAMES: Grant answers to just about anything someone might call him, but if it’s something rude, he’ll respond with something along the same lines.
RACE: Werewolf- pureborn
OCCUPATION: Internet Auctioneer
GENDER: Male
SKIN COLOUR: Caucasian with a noticeable tan
NATIONALITY: Danish
AGE: 341, but he looks to be somewhere in his mid-30s
CLOTHING: For Grant, jeans are a must, finding them more comfortable than slacks but not as ‘lazy’ as sweatpants. All of his jeans are blue, but are various shades, some more faded than others, the knees getting a little thin on a few pairs. When it comes to shirts, he switches between t-shirts, button downs and sweaters according to whim and weather. All of his shirts tend to be black, gray, dark red, dark blue, medium to dark green and dark red, though he has some t-shirts in dark orange, medium blue and white. While his sweaters and button downs are all solid colors, he has some t-shirts with writing on them, his personal favorite being a black one with white lettering reading “I swear to drunk I’m not God.” His preferred shoes are a pair of comfortable white sneakers that he makes some attempt at keeping from getting too worn, but he also has a pair of brown hiking boots that he’ll pull out sometimes. He has a greenish-brown jacket that he’ll wear when the weather calls for it.
HEIGHT: 5’8
WEIGHT: 156 lbs
TATTOOS: A stylized infinity symbol, which was the unofficial symbol of his birth pack, on the underside of his right wrist

PIERCINGS: None
JEWELLERY: A necklace that belonged to his brother, though it’s rare for him to actually wear it. (see PRIZED POSSESSIONS)
BODY MODIFICATIONS: He has three scars from silver tipped arrows, one on the back of each shoulder and one on the left side of his lower back.

WOLF FORM.

BUILD: Somewhat muscular and built for both quadruped and bipedal movement, Grant’s wolf form is really more cat-like than anything, especially the head, with its short muzzle and rather cat-like ears. Grant’s wolf is built more for speed than strength.
HEIGHT: Bipedal: 6’5 Quadruped: 4’2
WEIGHT: 234 lbs.
HAIR: Dark gray, fully covering and thick, making it protective against not only the elements, but anything he might brush up against.
EYES: Golden yellow with barely visible pupils
DEFINING MARKS: Cat-like face and long, slender fingers on the front paws.

PACK.
PACK: Cole’s Pack
POSITION: Pack Member
TERRITORY: Cole’s part of Los Angeles

HAIR.
LENGTH: Mid-ear length
STYLE: Grant has the tendency to keep it combed back, not for neatness, but to keep it off his forehead and away from his eyes since he doesn’t want to cut off any more than he does to keep it at his preferred length
COLOUR: Medium brown

FACIAL HAIR.
LENGTH: There have been a couple of times over the years when he’s allowed himself to grow a beard, but the desire to do so comes very rarely. For the most part, he stays clean shaven, though it’s not unusual for him to be seen with a few days worth of growth.
STYLE: When Grant grows a beard, he keeps it trimmed fairly short and tidy. When he doesn’t have a beard, it’s usually very short, if he isn’t clean shaven

EYES.
COLOUR: Green with just a slight touch of hazel
ODDITIES: Like the rest of his species, Grant’s eyes will flash/flood their lupine color during periods of heightened emotion or when he makes them in an attempt to threaten or tease.

PERSONALITY: Grant is the sort of guy who can fit into almost any situation, able to go from joking, laughing and just generally being goofy one moment to serious and lending an ear to someone else’s problems the next. It’s always more fun hanging out with the happier pack members and to be joking around, but if someone needs or wants to talk to him about something serious, Grant is more than capable of shutting his mouth and listening. He knows all too well that things can’t always be happy and delightfully crazy, so he’s learned how to put the brakes on his light side and snap into “serious mode” at the drop of a hat.

When he’s working, Grant can usually be found either at the desk in his room, set up in the library or at one of the tables in the dining room, music playing on his laptop. When he’s just watching an auction rather than setting one up or writing up descriptions of products he’s putting up on the block for other people, he usually has a pair of pens in hand, drumming on the table while singing along with whatever song might be playing. He isn’t particularly worried about whether or not anyone thinks he’s crazy, figuring that if they do, they do and that’s that. His brand of crazy is fun, something he’s said more than once.

Deep down, Grant is actually really disappointed about his decision not to try becoming a fighter, but he knows that his shoulders would just make him the weak point in a group in a bad situation, something that he’s not going to make anyone else deal with. He knows that other fighters have problems that they have to deal with and he’s not about to pretend that he doesn’t realize that, but he doesn’t want to put anyone else at risk if he doesn’t have to. In the end, though, he always contents himself with sparring with whoever might want to, knowing that at least they’ll give him a break if the pain starts to get too bad. Grant takes his bad shoulders less seriously than most might think he would. It is, for the most part, not a big deal to him and he simply does what he has to when the pain starts to flare up and then goes on his way without a second thought about it.

When Grant is in pain, he tries not to let it show, not wanting to deal with the possibility- however likely or unlikely it might be- of someone making any sort of deal about it. Grant doesn’t have any problem with occasionally being the center of attention, but he does not want anyone feeling sorry for him. That annoys him because if others are going to be paying attention to him, he wants it to be on his terms, not because he’s in pain. He’s extremely stubborn that way.

Though he has friends within the pack, Grant doesn’t let himself get close enough to anyone to start considering them a best friend. The last time he allowed himself to have a best friend, things didn’t exactly turn out very well, which he knows is an understatement of massive proportions. After what happened, he doubts anyone could really blame him for his hesitancy, but if they can, then he doesn’t consider it his problem. While he does trust the others in the pack, there’s a tiny fear that they would turn their backs on him should something happen.

Grant will always be one of the first to step up and defend someone if the need ever arises. He hates bullies and, even if he’s in so much pain that he can barely move his arms, he’ll jump in the middle of a fight if someone needs him to and not hesitate to do so. He doesn’t see himself ever needing to actually do such a thing, though, since the pack seems to get along so well with one another and the fighters are there to deal with anything that comes up from outside forces.

It doesn’t usually show, but Grant is the type who’ll gladly go out of his way to cheer someone up. He doesn’t like seeing anyone upset any more than anyone else does, so if someone seems upset and there’s something he can do about it, he will. It doesn’t matter if it’s pulling someone aside to talk about the situation, getting the upset party a bowl of ice cream or sitting down to watch movies he’d normally rather poke his eyes out with chopsticks than watch, he’ll do it. If he can get them smiling, laughing and forgetting about their problems, even if only for a little while, then he’s happy with what he’s accomplished.

Even though it’s been almost two centuries since he left behind his birth pack, some little part of Grant is afraid they might still be looking for him. He knows that it’s highly unlikely that they’ll ever find him, especially considering how much distance is now between him and the last place he saw them, but he can’t help but keep watch for them whenever he leaves the hotel. He isn’t about to let that make him a shut-in, but since they’d likely kill him as soon as they laid eyes on him, he doesn’t think it’s going overboard to watch out for them when he’s away from the hotel.

WEAKNESSES: As with all werewolves, Grant is extremely allergic to silver, which can do anything from burn to kill him depending upon the severity and length of exposure to the metal. Grant has a great deal of trouble with his shoulders, a result of silver tipped arrows. The left one, especially, can sometimes become so painful that he can barely move his arm. He is immensely afraid of flying and, though he’ll deny it, clowns. He also couldn’t aim a gun to save his life. While Grant does, for the most part, trust the rest of the pack, some part of him doubts that they would back him up should his original pack ever turn up, especially if they were to learn the reason he went on the run in the first place.

ABILITIES: Grant has all of the abilities that naturally come from being a werewolf: heightened senses and increased healing abilities, stamina, speed and agility. Due to his age, Grant is more than capable of controlling not only his wolf, but his transformation, even during the full moon. Since he was raised around so many wolves who spoke so many languages and taught them to him, he speaks, along with Danish, English, Gaelic, Swedish, Italian, French, a little bit of German, some Spanish that he picked up and he can swear in Norwegian. He’s a decent drummer and could be better if he actually bothered to practice on the set in the music room, but he prefers the more versatile method- two pens and whatever hard surface is within reach.

WEAPONS: A pair of hunting knives that he never leaves the hotel without.

PRIZED POSSESSIONS: A black braided leather cord necklace with a pewter eagle head pendant that has a yin-yang motif that belonged to his older brother.

HOME(S): The Hyperion with the rest of Cole’s pack

HISTORY: Born in Denmark to Rona Slaine and Sverre Torgny- his mother from Scotland and his father from somewhere in the region of Scandinavia, though only he and his mate knew exactly where- Grant was the second son born to the pair. His brother, Leith, was almost fourteen when Grant was born and had already made a name for himself as one of the pack’s troublemakers. Leith was forever finding something to get into, some trouble to cause, some prank to pull, some fight to start and many of the others in their birth pack feared that Grant would grow up to be exactly the same way. Rona and Sverre did what they could to make sure their second son would grow up calmer than his brother, but by the time he was eight, it was obvious that Grant was taking after Leith more than anyone really wanted him to, save Leith, who was more than thrilled to have his baby brother take after him.

In an attempt to calm him down and keep him out of trouble, Grant’s parents went around the pack, asking those who knew other languages to give him lessons, hoping that they, along with his regular lessons, would keep him too busy to participate in Leith’s troublemaking ventures. It worked for a while, Grant finding it necessary to put all of his concentration and energy into his various lessons, which left very little time for anything else. As much as he enjoyed learning the various languages members of his pack spoke, it didn’t take long for Grant to get bored with not having time for anything other than the lessons his parents insisted upon. He was still just a child and had a child’s desires so, when the lessons became too much, he stopped showing up for them, instead disappearing into the mountains around the pack’s home with his brother and some of their friends to explore and simply enjoy being a kid.

Leith commented several times to him that he should probably be at his lessons, always being far more responsible when it came to his brother than himself despite enjoying having his brother take after him, but he never refused to let Grant go with him during his hikes and explorations. Grant was fourteen when Leith admitted to him that he felt he could look out for his baby brother better than anyone else in the pack, save their parents. It was then that Grant learned about his brother’s discontent with the pack they had been born into, Leith telling him that he had always felt as if he was suffocating but not wanting to leave because of their parents and Grant. He didn’t want to just up and leave them there, even though he wanted nothing more than to take off and never look back. Leith admitted that he had tried to talk to their parents about it once, but Rona and Sverre had simply shushed him and forbidden him to ever speak of such a thing again.

Grant wasn’t sure how he felt about his brother’s confession, having always felt more than content in their pack. He had occasionally felt as if his parents were expecting a bit too much of him since they insisted on him taking so many lessons in languages from pack members, but he had never felt suffocated as Leith said he had. He thought that too many of the others were too serious for their own good, but that didn’t make him want to run away from them and never look back.

It was something Grant and Leith never talked about again. As the years passed, Grant knew that things weren’t getting any better for his brother. Leith acted as if nothing was wrong, calming down a good bit as he got older and taking on more responsibilities, but Grant knew that, no matter how happy his brother acted, he was only ever doing that- acting.

Grant watched as Leith fought being marked with the pack’s adopted symbol on his one hundred and fiftieth birthday, an occasion that signified to the pack that the member was officially considered old enough to understand their place within the family and accepted any task that was requested of them by the alphas. Eventually, at the urging of their parents, Leith accepted the pack’s ways and accepted the mark on the underside of his right wrist, though Grant knew just by looking at his brother that it was just one more thing about the pack that he felt suffocated by. It was the way the pack had been for as long as any of them could really remember, so very few understood Leith’s hesitancy about the whole thing. Grant got it, though, due to Leith having shared his feelings about the pack with him years before, even if he didn’t really understand the reasons behind his brother’s views.

After the marking, Leith became rather sullen, telling Grant in private that he ‘belonged’ to the pack now and that there really wasn’t any sense in fighting it any more, feeling more like a possession than a member of the group. Grant still didn’t really understand his brother’s feelings about the whole thing, having, like the rest of the pack, always seen it as a symbol of the strength of the pack’s bond, but listened all the same, wanting to understand and knowing that, had their positions been reversed, Leith would have sat down in order to hear him out. Leith had always seen things differently than anyone else in the pack, so it was only natural that he’d continue to do so. Grant knew that it didn’t really help his brother make many friends, but he supposed that there had to be a so-called black sheep and Leith had certainly never done anything to dissuade the others from considering him such. When he listened to his brother speak of the pack, Grant often wondered what had happened along the way to make his brother feel as he did. He had asked once, but Leith had only waved away the question and continued, clearly not wanting to speak about it, so it was a topic that Grant had never brought up again, though he always wondered.

While the pack was harsh on any of the pack members who killed another- the alphas had always believed that the only reasonable punishment for murder was death- the pack was otherwise a loving collective, striving to help and teach each other. That was how it had always appeared to Grant and, when he mentioned it to Leith after one of his brother’s complaints about the pack, his brother told him that it was because Grant had never seen the true darkness that was lying under the pack’s loving exterior as he had. All of Grant’s attempts to get his older brother to explain that statement to him were met with a shake of Leith’s head and the statement that Grant was safer if he didn’t know.

When Grant turned one hundred and fifty, he accepted the pack’s mark without a fuss, joining three wolves who had come into the pack and who had chosen to take on the mark to cement their places within the group that had taken them in. As the only pack born wolf taking on the mark that night, Grant went last, as those born within the pack always did when there were others doing the same. Though the families of those being marked were encouraged to be there as witnesses, Leith failed to show up, leaving Grant to seek him out once everyone dispersed.

He found his brother at the edge of the property the pack’s home sat on, watching the stars. Before Grant could ask why Leith hadn’t shown up, he was asked why he hadn’t fought having the pack’s symbol put on him. Knowing that his brother wouldn’t like the real reason and wanting to keep the peace between them, he told Leith that it was because fighting hadn’t worked for him, so he had known that it was pointless to try. Though he could tell that his brother didn’t believe him, it seemed as if it was enough to satisfy Leith, his brother letting it pass without questioning him again.

While they sat there talking, carefully avoiding the topic of the pack for once, they were approached by Clara Mariano and her brother, who had been Grant’s best friend for decades, Giulio. When Clara asked Leith if she could speak to him, Grant got up and attempted to excuse himself, not wanting to be there should the conversation require privacy (especially since he knew that his brother would likely seek him out later to tell him what was discussed if he thought Grant would have any interest in it), but she told him to stay. Considering that Clara had always taken it upon herself to say as little to Grant as possible, his curiosity got the better of him and he decided that he would indeed stay to see what she had to say. She had gotten him curious.

When she began to talk about good bloodlines coming together, Grant knew what was coming, though his older brother seemed to be oblivious. When Clara finally got to the point and revealed to Leith that she wanted him to be her mate, it was almost painfully obvious that Leith had been caught completely off guard. He managed to collect himself after a moment and politely turn her down, saying that it wouldn’t be fair to either of them should he agree because he was fully aware of the fact that she didn’t love him and, since he didn’t love her either, the only thing in their future would be misery for the both of them. Clara burst into tears and turned to Grant, asking if he’d take her since his brother wouldn’t. Her desperation made Grant uncomfortable (and he honestly thought she might have lost her mind) and he told her that, in the morning, once she’d had time to think things over, she’d be glad that he was turning her down as well.

Clara ran off, her brother hurrying after her, while Grant and Leith began to make their way back to the pack’s home. On the way, they agreed that they wouldn’t bring up what had happened with Clara to anyone else, deciding that it would just be cruel and embarrassing for her if they started talking about how they’d both turned her down. They were, at least, gentlemanly enough to keep it between the four of them and felt that there was no reason for anyone else to know.

Two days later, Grant was sitting under a massive shade tree that was a favorite spot for pack members to rest or read during nice weather, when he heard yelling. Recognizing the voices of his brother and his best friend, Grant went to investigate, wondering if it was about Clara and the way things had gone. Along the way, he considered leaving them to their argument, wondering if maybe Giulio just needed to vent about Leith turning down his sister. It really wasn’t any of his business and he had almost convinced himself to ignore it and go back to his spot beneath the tree when he heard Leith’s tone change. Undeniably curious now, Grant continued on, finding Leith, Giulio and Clara just as his best friend stabbed his brother in the heart.

Grant rushed forward, shoving the Italian male out of his way as he raced to his brother, grabbing Leith before he could fall and lowering him as carefully as he could to the ground. He was too busy checking to see if his brother was still alive- and discovering that he wasn’t - to notice when a group of fighters showed up, fresh from their patrol. He only looked away from his brother when he heard Giulio claim that Grant had been the one to stab Leith, Clara quickly agreeing with her brother. It was then that he noticed that the knife that had been used was next to him on the ground and that the blood that had gotten on him as he checked his brother made him look extremely guilty. He stayed where he was as the fighters turned on him, weapons in hand, and argued, though he knew that it was all but useless when Giulio claimed that he thought Grant’s motive had been Clara choosing his brother over him. Grant attempted to tell the group of fighters the truth, but with the Mariano siblings siding with each other and Leith unable to tell them what had happened, Grant found himself at the wrong end of the fighters’ weapons.

He had no idea as to what made him run. Grant just knew that he had been beside his brother’s body one second and on his feet attempting to put as much distance as he could between him and the others the next. He knew it made him look guilty, but he had seen in the fighters’ eyes that they believed the siblings over him. He was already as good as dead. Once the fighters, Clara and Giulio told the alphas their story, he would be facing execution for murder.

The first arrow hit him in the left side of his lower back, causing him to stumble and go down. The fighters used silver tipped arrows due to recent threats by rogues, so he knew the extent of trouble he was in as soon as it hit. Without bothering to try removing the arrow, Grant scrambled to his feet and attempted to run again. Two more arrows found their way to him, one in the back of each shoulder. The pain took him back to the ground and this time, he didn’t have the chance to get up. Two of the fighters had changed to their wolf forms and blocked his route, though he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to go any farther anyway. He knew that it would have taken the others only seconds to run him down.

The three other fighters pulled him to his feet and escorted him back to the pack home, depositing him before the alphas, arrows still embedded in him. They explained what they had seen, what they had been told and how Grant had run from them, Giulio and Clara speaking up to tell their stories themselves. When Grant was asked what he had to say for himself, he attempted to explain the truth to the alphas, though he already knew that it wouldn’t do any good. Even if they had believed him over the Marianos, he had run from the fighters, which said to them that he was guilty. It only took the alphas moments to sentence him to death, but it would only happen once he had healed from his wounds.

He was ordered to be locked into one of the cages that were used during the full moon for those who were unable to control their transformations. The fighters were quick to follow their orders, locking him into one of the bare cells and leaving him alone while one of them went to get the pack’s healer and tell her about what was happening.

As he laid in the cell, Grant considered the pros and cons of pulling the arrows out for himself and ultimately decided that it was in his favor to leave them in. If he got lucky, he’d end up dying of silver poisoning rather than meeting his end at an execution attended by the pack. He would have greatly preferred not to die at all, but if he was going to, he wanted to on his terms. He knew that the healer would do what she could to keep poisoning from settling in, but he couldn’t help but think that he hoped she’d fail, just so he wouldn’t have to be killed in front of everyone while they were convinced that he was guilty of killing his brother.

It was over an hour later before the healer arrived and Grant knew that it was because she was convinced that he was guilty. She was none too gentle as she removed the arrows and went about doing her job, but Grant just dealt with it, refusing to allow himself to voice his pain. He knew that most, if not all, of the pack felt that he deserved as much pain as possible before he was executed, but he wasn’t going to let them see how much he was hurting. He wouldn’t hide the grief he held over his brother’s death, but he was determined not to let them see if they themselves managed to cause him pain. It was his last real chance to annoy them and he was going to take it. They, unlike him, would live through it.

When the healer finally left, Grant attempted to get comfortable, though he knew that it was going to be impossible. The arrows had stayed in more than long enough to risk silver poisoning and, while he wasn’t sure if it was that, being shot, the grief or a combination of the three that was making him weak, he knew that it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t have gotten out of the cell had he tried, so there was little left to do save lie there and wait to die.

Grant wasn’t sure if he went to sleep or passed out, but when he awoke, he found his mother smoothing his hair as she had done when he was a child, his father sitting next to her. He was quick to start trying to explain that he hadn’t killed Leith, but his mother was just as quick in hushing him and saying that they already knew that. Rona and Sverre knew that Grant would never do such a thing, but the alphas weren’t convinced and that was what ultimately mattered. They were the only ones who could call off the execution, but since they were so convinced that Grant was a murderer, that was something that they were not going to do.

A guard came forward all too quickly to tell Rona and Sverre that their time was up, forcing them to leave. Left alone again, Grant couldn’t stop himself from wondering if that was the last time he would see them before he was led to his execution.

Later that night, after everyone but the guard on duty was asleep, Grant was awoken to his cell door opening. In the dim light of the lantern that was carried with her, Grant saw one of the female fighters, Celandine, entering. After a moment of watching each other silently, she told him that she didn’t believe that he had killed Leith. She knew that he had told the truth about Giulio being the true murderer and wanted to help him. She told him that she had unlocked a nearby door, which opened to the outside and intended to leave his cell door open. When an investigation was mounted to figure out who had been at fault, she would do what she could to convince everyone that he had acted on his own. She didn’t want him to die, but she certainly didn’t want anyone to find out that she was helping him.

Depositing a bundle next to him, she stood and told him to change and leave as quickly as possible, certain that he wouldn’t be spotted leaving since it was so late. Before she could leave the cell, Grant asked why she was helping. She didn’t have any reason to believe him, let alone risk the wrath of the alphas should they suspect that she had anything to do with his escape. She just told him that he had better hurry and left.

Though he had no idea as to how far he would actually be able to go, Grant knew that he couldn’t let the opportunity pass him by. As soon as Celandine was gone, Grant opened up the bundle, finding two large hunting knives, a little money and the necklace Leith had always worn. He quickly changed, putting on the necklace, pocketing the money and securing the knives beneath belt. He hated that he would never be able to thank Celandine for her help, but knew that he couldn’t take the risk of going to her to convey his gratitude.

Steeling himself, Grant left the cell and made his way outside, hurrying away from the pack home as quickly as he could, knowing that they would start hunting him as soon as he was discovered missing. Grant would have to find somewhere to stay eventually, but he refused to worry about that until he was sure that he had put enough distance between him and the pack that they wouldn’t find him as soon as he got up the nerve to stop. Even if it got to the point where he had to drag himself, he intended to keep going until continuing became impossible.

Grant forced himself to travel for two days straight, making his trail as hard to follow as he could. Finally, though, he was unable to go any farther and let himself into a little cabin that he came across. It was all but falling down around him, but it was just the sort of place he needed. There was little to no chance of anyone finding him there and Grant stayed only long enough to get a little sleep before he started off again, eating what he could find along the way.

As he healed and grew stronger, Grant covered more distance each day, starting out earlier in the morning and continuing his journey well into the night. Though his shoulders continued to cause him pain even after the wounds had healed, leaving scars as the only visible signs that they had ever been there, Grant made his way out of the country (the pack having relocated to Sweden just three years before), refusing to stop for any real length of time, not wanting to take the chance of the pack finding him if they were still searching.

After twenty-five years of moving around, taking jobs wherever he could find them and hoping that his birth pack had stopped looking for him, Grant found himself in Spain. As he had been doing along the way, he took odd jobs when he could get them, learning a little of the language while he was there. He slowed his pace while he was in the country, wanting to take it in and enjoy it while he had the opportunity, though he kept in mind what he was running from and made sure he didn’t stay in one place for too long. He didn’t want to take the chance of the pack finding him while he was enjoying the scenery, though, due to the time that had passed, he allowed himself a few days of rest here and there.

While staying near Madrid, word reached him that there were vampires in the area. The few werewolves that he had met chose to lie low rather than risk confrontation with the vampires, preferring to keep trouble to a minimum. Grant, with no desire to find himself face to face with a vampire, chose to do the same, listening to any news he could pick up about their movements and doing his best to remain inside during the nighttime hours. He wasn’t really afraid of them, but he knew that being cautious was the smartest thing he could do. He wasn’t likely to get far in a fight or while trying to outrun them, so he decided that avoidance was his best bet. There were no guarantees that the vampires would cause trouble should he cross their path, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t either.

For the most part, it was easy enough to work around the vampires. He worked during the daylight hours and, for the most part, managed to make it back inside behind locked doors before nightfall. Grant saw it as the perfect excuse to fall into bed early. That and he simply thought it was the smartest thing to do, seeing no point in asking for trouble when he didn’t have to.

He was awakened one winter night by sounds from outside. At first, Grant had no idea as to what might be going on, the sounds making little sense to his sleep fogged brain. He was half convinced that he was just dreaming until he heard begging, which was coming from just outside his window. Curious, he got up to take a look.

Through the window he saw seven people. Two, a woman and a child, were huddled on the ground, the other five moving to surround them. It took him only seconds to realize the five- two men and three women- were vampires and that the two humans they had surrounded were their intended dinner. Not willing to let the vampires kill the woman and child, and especially not when there might be something he could do about it, Grant went into action, snatching up his knives and ignoring the stiffness in his shoulders as he barreled outside, launching into an attack against the vampires that surprised even him. He, like all the others in his birth pack, had learned to take care of himself, but he had never had any sort of training to prepare for fighting off vampires.

Grant had no idea how long he fought, time seeming to speed up and slow down as the battle raged on, but, at last, the woman found an opening and took her child off at a run, leaving Grant alone with the vampires. Even before the fight had started, some part of him had suspected that he wouldn’t be leaving it alive, surprising himself a bit when he realized that he was actually okay with that. The two humans had gotten away and that had been the whole point of him taking on the vampires in the first place. The humans mattered, not him. If he had run headlong into his death by challenging the vampires, then he could settle for that. It was better than the other options he had immediately available to him: continuing to run or wait for his birth pack to catch up and execute him. While he no longer knew if the latter was likely, the thought of it would always be hanging over his head.

Though he could accept it if he died at the hands of the vampires, Grant fought with everything he had, wanting to at very least make sure that they were distracted long enough for the woman and child to get to safety. He never expected help to come rushing to him in the form of angry townspeople, but it did, the woman having gathered everyone she could. Grant was on the ground, beaten, bloody and waiting for the final blow when the first vampire was set alight with someone’s torch. The attack, as well as being vastly outnumbered by humans, seemed to catch the vampires by surprise and it took only moments for them to run, clearly deciding that they were not interested in a fight if they were at any kind of disadvantage, whether they could win in the end or not.

Not caring to stick around any longer, Grant left the next morning, slipping away without a word to anyone.

He stayed on the move for the next decade, not stopping any longer than he had to. By then, life on the move was beginning to get more than a little tiresome, so he started to seriously look into joining up with another pack, keeping his ear to the ground and watching for any sign that a pack was nearby when he stopped. He knew all too well how secretive packs could be, but he also knew how to look for them, how to poke around and stick his nose into things, usually without getting caught.

When he heard about Cole Stanton’s pack, he did what he had done with every other pack he had heard of: he asked around, finding rogue wolves who had been in the area long enough to find out at least a little about the group of wolves. He had always made it a point to know at least a little something about any pack whose territory he found himself in along the way, but that had been out of necessity. Every werewolf he had ever come across knew the importance of knowing whatever they could about any pack that might be around.

For almost three months, Grant picked up little bits and pieces of information about the pack, listening to whatever anyone could tell him about it and those who were in it. He was most interested in hearing about the leaders, feeling that it was probably in his best interest to find out as much as he could about them before doing something like approaching anyone, but he didn’t turn his nose up at any piece of information he could get. He wasn’t crazy enough to think that going in without a clue was anything like a good idea.

Finally, once he had learned everything he could about the pack from the outside, he decided to stick his neck out and risk approaching. How it would go, Grant had absolutely no clue, but he held the opinion that there were worse things than getting killed, so he decided that he may as well try.

Things went far better than he had had been optimistic enough to really think they would and he found himself a member of the pack. He made sure the pack’s leaders knew about what had happened to make him leave his birth pack, knowing that it was best to be upfront about it rather than pretending that it hadn’t happened. If, somehow, someone from his original pack managed to track him down, he thought it was best that the leaders had an idea about what they might end up trying to do. After all, it was only fair that they knew what was going on should he be found and executed on the spot.

It didn’t take long for Grant to become accustomed to pack life again and start making friends, though he made sure to keep some distance between himself and the others, thinking that it was in his best interest not to allow himself to trust someone else as much as he had Giulio. He had already been betrayed by someone he thought would have his back no matter what, so he wasn’t exactly rushing to let himself trust someone that much again. That didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy making new friends, though. If someone wanted to hang out, then he was more than happy to.

As time has passed and Grant has gotten settled in more, he’s relaxed a good deal, allowing himself to finally consider the fact that he might actually be safe from his original pack. He’ll always be on the lookout for them, but he’s gotten to the point where he isn’t always thinking about how staying in one spot will make him easier to find should anyone still be looking for him. More than anything, he’s gotten to the point where he actually trusts his pack mates, understanding that he can count on them, though some small part of him is likely to always wonder if they might turn on him like the majority of his birth pack did.