It was in the depths of the city in a place that lacked light. Where the wolves were hunting as wolves do at night. They didn’t care if you were an elder or youth, because the smell of vulnerability signaled you were food.
They traveled in packs wearing subtle colors, neglected their children and killed their brothers, and when there was no prey to hunt, they’d eat other wolves just for fun.
Their mothers were sad because they knew. But at this point what could they do? It had been years since these wolves had been cubs and now poverty had given them a thirst for blood.
Their dream were broken and their desires bent. Because Hell was their environment.
Since they could remember all they could see, is that if were not the hunter you were the feast. No knowledge of their true identity, these men had no choice but to become beast.