The 'Druid's Tower' gloomed in darkness, save for the flickering torches that barely lit it. And housed at the center of a rotunda in the Druid's Tower, was a very large wooden grey table known as 'The Council' (with the alphas of the different packs in Michigan seated about it). 
For generations, serious matters had been brought and settled before The Council. But was it the case of this present matter? 
A mischievous werewolf had killed not one, not two but three alpha werewolves, leaving the council wondering what he might decide to do with the amount of power he has gained.

Werewolves Of Bloomfield Hills

Bale entered the druid's office looking somber now because he knew he was going to be scolded. And thinking about it, he began to regret his actions. 


"How are you feeling now?" the druid asked him after he sat down. 


Lacing his fingers together, Hendell snorted sarcastically "I guess hitting a woman made you feel BETTER?" 


"No that was not what happened! I didn't hit her!" Bale defended. "You should've heard the things she said about my parents" 


"I heard it, and it's not an excuse" Hendell chided him. "That aside, what brings you here?" he changed the topic. Bale thought about the question for a while, wondering if it was a trap or if Hendell felt so disgusted that he didn't want to talk anymore, then he answered. 


"I heard we'd be assembling before The Council in a few days, so I decided to come earlier. You know I like it here. It's less chaotic than Bloomfield Hills." 


"We're assembling before The Council?" Hendell asked, frowning. 


Chapter 20