Not in HIS district

After he had been called by his subordinates, the Captain
immediately made his way to the scene of the crime in the forest. It
was horrible. The two corpses looked so awful that he could hardly
identify them: It were Mrs. Doe and her little daughter; their throats
cut, their chests ripped open. They had been brutally slaughtered. In
HIS district! It was not so much some kind of compassion for Mrs. Doe's
relatives than anger about his scratched honour that made him burn form
deep inside.

He did not have any time to lose. The dead bodies were still steaming;
everywhere he could find traces of blood but there were no fingerprints
at all. The position of the Does and the splashes of blood led him
south. At that stage of the investigations two things were clear to
him: The perpetrator had to be an outsider and he would certainly kill
again! If nobody stopped him! And that in HIS district!

He heard a noise in the woods and started to run. He reached a crossing
but did not see anybody. He held his nose in the air and sniffed a
strange odour, just like urine. That led him west, moving even faster.
He called his companions, signalling to them 'I've got him' and finally
he stood face to face with his opponent. Moments later the first of his
group arrived. While they were circling the murderer, the Captain
looked into his cold, yellow eyes. The captive started to growl and
bared his teeth, seeing no way out. The Captain, however, lowered his
head.

Suddenly he jumped from his hind legs, dug his fore claws into warm
flesh, his fangs into the enemy's throat and killed the other wolf. The
pack started to howl in chorus with their captain. There was no space
for another hunter. Not in HIS district!