There was a cadence to dying. No matter the melodies preceding the final chords, it always ends abruptly. And he relished in it, enjoying the final measures with his fangs deep in his prey’s neck. Feeling the last heartbeat. The last shuddering pulse.
Voicing your opinion as a werewolf was rare. There were no respectful debates. No freedom of speech. If you didn’t agree with the alpha male, you were attacked. Sometimes kicked out.
As a loner, he preferred being human.