Emily slides back under the car propped up in the garage, the light cutting throuth the open doors in the dark evening air. The Garage had technically been closed for a few hours, but the Iron Master was her father's daughter and working on cars was a passion, not a job. A few empty beer bottles stood out next to the wheels.
Over to one side her Blue Mustang resides in it;s pride of place, freshly waxed and polished. This was her latest project - an old chevvy she wanted to finish putting back together and troll out for sale. It was most of the way there.
Outside, there were several marks, if one knew what to look for. Claw marks in the curb. The crescent moon unter the Text of Makerith Motors across the front of the garage. And in the shadow, the markers of bones and Azlu parts that defienatly marked the tiny spot that was her territory.
Wandering wolves could spot this place for what is was. Maybe one would.