The wolves were invading.
They crossed fences and walls and sneaked into people's homes.
The poor village had a small population but was brightly illuminated that night. People awakened amid shrieks, children wailed and wolves howled under the full moon. Blood seeped into the creek and created a winding path of tragedy.

The females became huntresses on that night.
The hunters who had gone to the forest were dead. Before the mourning and prayer for them ended, the huntresses put on their cloaks and charged into the night. Twenty-one rounds were shot from the hunting rifles and the big bad wolves retreated into the forest. The cloaks were soaked red with the blood of the wolves, after the bloody counterattack for what they had done.
The one thing that held the village together was the defense made by grandmothers, mothers, sisters and daughters. Every night, women could be seen carrying guns and watching over this fragile cradle, until day broke and the wolves returned to the forest.

Time passed. The crescent moon rose and fell. The big bad wolves died one after another, as did the huntresses.
The huntresses' and the wolves' bodies rotted away in the forest, turning into a single pile of dust, just like the mixing of their blood which was inseparable since the first night. This continued for over a century, and the youngest daughter on that day has now become a grandmother. She lost her husband, daughter and siblings, yet she became the most reliable huntress.
"Dear child, you are the last of us ..."
She handed her gun to her young granddaughter, nails cutting her skin leaving bloody stains. Wolves howled in excitement in the distance celebrating the demise of the huntress.
"Never ... let those dirty things enter the village ... ever again ..."
"I will kill them all, grandma, for you, Lily Anne, Thomson and little Robert. For all the blood that has been shed ..."
The young child donned the cloak soaked in wolf blood, picked up the gun and faced the endless darkness of the night.
"Goodnight."

Mondlicht: Who's there!
Pandora Wilson: Relax. This is just an arcane skill. Put away your gun, I won't hurt you.
Mondlicht: My apologies. I need to always be on my guard because those wolves are big, bad and very dangerous. One moment of carelessness and there could be trouble.
Pandora Wilson: It must be tough for you to become a huntress at such a young age.
Mondlicht: I have to do this.
Pandora Wilson: For your village?

Mondlicht: That's not all. It's also for ... revenge. All the huntresses have hatred carved into their spines. What had them charging into the forest hot on their heels after those beasts' stench is their hatred brought by the blood that has been shed.
Pandora Wilson: Most of them died in battle. Intense feelings can activate your arcane skills, but also lead you to misjudgment.
Mondlicht: ... You've never experienced it before. You've never seen how the blood flowed and how our friends and family wailed in misery.
Mondlicht: A debt of blood must be paid in blood.