The man held his blade to my throat and I could hardly breathe.
I had seen him only once in my entire life.
Back home in the moonlight pack, he had been one of my father's most prized assassins.
I had been only about seven years old and scrubbing the library floors when my father himself had come in.
I had gone to quickly hide because even though I was doing my duties, I knew that my father did not like seeing me.
A man almost like a shadow appeared.
He had rich olive skin and his eyes I could remember when of hazel colors.
He was dressed in pieces of clothes, like something a desert wolf would wear.
"Have you been discreet?" My father had asked.
There was no one else in the room.
The spy nodded.
All through the conversation I hadn't seen him talk. Only bow or shake his head.
His entire being had scared me.
