With a loud crack, the tree next to Wilson’s head exploded in a shower of splinters. Ducking lower, he peered through the gap beneath the lowest branch and snarled.
Saliva dripped from his mouth as he finished shifting into his other form. Only the truly stupid hunted a weretiger, and he intended to show them why.
With his enhanced eyes, he spotted the hunter’s rifle barrel and scope. With a mild push, he growled and leapt to the side as a bullet tore into his chest.
The burning pain didn’t cease, and fear flooded into him as he changed back.