The night’s air was alive with excitement, electrified and weighted with intent and purpose. Had one not been able to hear the occasional screams of the search party, the woods would have been able to tell them someone was out there – its trees seemed to quiver in fear, and the branches swept with a song of impending death dripping from their leaves. The animals were likewise talkative – or, rather, expressive in their silence. All but the wolves had stopped their midnight chatter, and the great beasts only sang in memory of their fallen brethren.
Three men in the guise of wolves had already died that night, been hung and left to nature’s devices with little concern. What did the search party care if the beasts were strung up? They’d caused too much damage, killed too many humans to be allowed the gift of life.
Never mind that they themselves had caused their own strife through the greater part of their existence.
The group, mostly composed of bumbling fools pulled straight from the mines and bars, crept along quietly in search of their next victim. It had been thought by the brightest of the village’s people that this was a lost cause. According to them, wolves in any form at all didn’t exist, and it was foolish to murder entire clans on the irrational belief that humans could turn into wolves. Silas was of entirely different belief – he’d seen the beasts, watched one tear his mother to shreds when he was just a babe. The memory had fallen away with time and become splashes of red and blood curdling screams, but he knew what they were capable of and that the species had to disappear to ensure human safety.
A war call pulled from the leader of the group, who held up his torch and source of light, alerting those behind him that one had been found. And, indeed, a wolf had torn away and was scrambling through brush in an attempt to get to a safe place. Their archer happened to be a little better than the beast – the sound of an arrow whistling through the air registered, soon followed by a pained yelp. The scout went ahead, gun in hand and intending to blow the head off of the beast if it reappeared. But, strangely enough, it didn’t and the night soon grew old, taking with it most of the men and convincing them to head home.
Even after they’d gone, Silas stayed behind the rest, faithfully continuing the search well into the night. It wasn’t until he heard a slight sound of pain that he’d finally rediscovered what he’d been searching for: the injured werewolf.
