Plight of the Werewolf
His blood-painted teeth flashed in the moonlight. He bellowed at the moon in a frustrated rage. He took another life. Albeit an insignificant vagrant this time, it disturbed him all the same as the others. The life would not be enough to sustain him. One is never enough.
A waft of a breeze caught his feral interest. He glared through a bay window at a family playing board games together. His stomach growled and twisted in response. There was no stopping him from advancing on them now. He hoped they had silver and the nerve to end his horror.