In the dark night of New Isabella, snow softly fell onto the city. The streetlights had been lit but the light never seemed to stretch far enough, windows remained dark, and silence overtook the city. There had been rumors of something stalking the night, a murderous beast that hunts and kills. It hadn’t been identified yet, but people were anxious and too worried to go out after the sun had set. However, the sun sets too early in winter, the biting cold just as strong as any teeth making its way into your bones.

Snow piled up on the footpaths and roads, sleek black ice remained an invisible threat to the unwary. I would have to be careful not to fall or slip, which was difficult as I was currently trying not to die—one foot in front of the other, carefully placing my steps. I’m afraid if I fall I’ll never get back up again. I shudder and cough, a creamy black and yellow phlegm is hacked out of my lungs. This is wholly treatable and an easy remedy, if you have money to pay the doctor or even someone who cared enough to bring you to one.

I continued home, coughing, spluttering, feeling too hot, and sweating in the cold frozen night. My feet soldiered on, crunching in the late-night snow. Down the stone pavements, through the dark streets, late into the night. I leaned against a wall to support myself as I fought to overcome a fit of coughing. I shuddered and retched, almost falling down to my knees as I struggled to continue to breathe. As I came to, gasping for air as I fought my own body for survival. I could hear yelling nearby.

And a monstrous roar.

I have heard the adults talking when I worked in the mine, in between pushing the mining cart through cramped tunnels, they spoke of a creature that eats man and gorges itself on our flesh. I was moments away from running, my already fast heart thundered away like a marching regiment, but running now would also kill me. Not immediately, but I did not know how many more days I could survive after tonight, with my sickness, with my uncle, working in the mines. All of which will kill me, just not as quickly.

I don’t want to die, but I will if I don’t do anything to change my fate. I steeled and focused myself, I would either die tonight or I would die later. These two outcomes simplified my problems and gave me the courage to move. I crept closer to the shouts and roars, the yelling and screaming, closer to death.

Hiding behind the corner of a house, I could hear the occupants trying to cry silently, a woman trying to silence her crying daughter. I put it out of my mind and continued to focus, peering around the corner, slowly around the red bricks caked in snow. I could see a woman, dead as could be. Her chest ripped open all the way down to her stomach, the warmth crystalizing into visible steam in the cold night as her organs, half-eaten, hung out. Blood pooling around her but slowly freezing. Her eyes stared unblinkingly toward the snow-covered sky and in turn snow fell onto her brown eyes.

I almost fell down at the sight of her, I almost threw up, I almost ran away. I did none of those, I looked away and found the Creature. Black matted fur, and piercing dim yellow eyes, it stood eight feet tall. Long obsidian-coloured nails, dripping with blood. Its ears pressed back and it was snarling at the man it was facing. Several wounds cover it, not cuts but puncture holes, it was angry.

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The man, a Hunter, clad in black leathers and hat, easily identifiable by his attire and the badge on the collar of his cloak. He held a revolver, its heat shimmering in the cool air, in his other hand held a long one-handed sword, it was long and thin with a covered hand guard.. He looked ready to fall over, he looked drunk as he swayed and fought to stay standing. His leather coat showing long cuts and gouges

The Werewolf struck, raising both of its arms to claw down on the Hunter, and the Hunter… He was slow, too slow and too weak. He raised his sword to try and block but it was too low. A screech of metal breaking and snapped as the Werewolf disembowelled him and bit down onto his shoulder. He let out a garbled grunt of pain, too fatigued to even scream properly.

The Werewolf grappled him, lifting him up into the air with its arms and bit down again onto his shoulder to get a better grip to peel the flesh away from the bone. I was unable to look away, much like the woman on the ground. My eyes stared unblinkingly forwards, watching. For the first time ever since I got this blasted illness I had gone ice cold. As if the cool breath of death itself snickered on the back of my neck. Then I felt another itch in my throat, it grew in power as if I had swallowed glass and I was holding my mouth to stop myself from making any noise.

Then I retched over my hand, unable to breath. I coughed, spluttered, and choked. A few metres away from death. It had only been a second, but that second cost my life. I watched as the Werewolfs ears twitched and turned, a low rumbling growl emanated from it as it prepared itself to fight.

But then I saw the Hunter and he saw me. His eyes went wide and then hard. His brow furrowed, creasing his forehead and his lips raised into a snarl like the Werewolf’s. He fought to raise his arm, he still held his revolver. But the Werewolf turned around and I could no longer see the Hunter's face. It looked at me and it was void of anything human.

Bloody drool dripped from its maw, holding the Hunter with one arm it threw back its head and howled into the snowy sky. I could hear the daughter in the brick house next to me through the window, cry out in fear and her mother joined her.

Then a bright flash, obscured by the Werewolf and the Hunter. An echo of an explosion radiated around the buildings accompanied by a yelp of a dog. The Hunter was flung to the ground, the Werewolf snarled, it looked at me in the eyes and held my gaze as it clutched the back of its neck, but then ran away into an alleyway nearby.

I couldn't breathe, my mind unravelled as I had an imminent close brush with death. I don’t know how long I remained like a statue in my position, but what brought me back to reality was the shuddering wheeze of the Hunter.

I rushed over to him, he didn’t try getting up as he laid in the snow. Blood colouring the snow and ice near him red and pink. I leaned over his body and he stared blankly into my eyes. His brown eyes slowly lost their focus as the pink froth around his lips stopped pouring out of his mouth. He tried to whisper something to me, maybe to someone else, no sounds came from his throat as he only mimicked the words he wanted to say. A few tears dripped from his eyes and down the side of his face as he let out a last shuddering breath and remained there, still.

“Creators guide you.” I stammered out and briefly closed my eyes before opening them. I knew what I had to do but it was still difficult to bring myself to do it. But I didn’t have a lot of time, the Watchmen would come and my Uncle… And my Uncle would punish me for being late.

I started slowly, digging my hands through a few of his pockets half-heartedly but I quickly gained confidence as no lightning bolt immediately condemned me for stealing from the dead. It took several minutes, I had a coughing fit and began retching over his body but I refused to allow myself to desecrate it further. There wasn’t very much he had, the sword was broken, most of his clothes is ripped and bloody. However, I found tens of bullets, enough to last a long time. I don’t know how many, but I can't count much higher beyond twenty. Inside other pockets I found a small pouch of money, and a vial of holy water. I then remembered his badge, I could maybe return this for some money… But that would be short sighted, I could use it to get work. I have his gun and bullets to go with it!

I gave one last look at the Hunter and nodded my head. I then looked over at the woman who was originally attacked, but I didn’t have the stomach to approach her. Blood and viscera everywhere, the thought of going through her pockets made me queasy. I gave one last look at the Hunter and walked away, heading back home.