Clear blue eyes watched from the underbrush, tails swinging softy in their excitement, teeth bared and claws at the ready. The rest of the brothers and sisters would soon be along.

It was on the wind, and in the ground, on the ferns that they had crushed as they went through the forests. Easy enough to track, even before the glow and the Change. After the Change, it was easier. All of it. Easier to think, as if a fog had lifted, easier to fight, as the muscles were stronger, the skin was tougher.

The hound watched the men from behind the foliage, sitting outside the cleaning, out of sight. Two of them were dragging the captive and tying him to a tree. There was another, sitting on a tree, head down. The hound walked around so their backs would be to him. He lifted his nose and smelled the air, finding his pack's scent. They were close. The hound leaned on his front paws, listening, waiting.

Ben pressed his palms against his eyes until shapes and colors started to appear and swirled around in the dark. He shook his head to clear it, waiting until his eyes got used to the light of day again.

The songbird had stopped and so had the insect noise. The forest was the picture of calm. Ben felt his hair stand up on end, and a chill pass down his spine. He felt watched. Something rustled in the bushes. Animal eyes shone behind the shadows, bright blue and unnatural.

Pritchett and Grimby were busy prodding at the captive, too enchanted with the prospect of torturing the poor fool to notice much. Ben, without any weapons, began to walk back towards the two, keeping the thing in the bushes in his sight.

"Anybody else feels very wrong all of a sudden?" he said, looking around desperately for the rifles. He found them leaned against the opposite tree, around 10 paces away from where they were. Ben quickly decided that because of his inexperience with firearms, he would probably miss and not knowing how to reload, he'd have to use it as a club. Not much help against wolves or whatever the hell that was. Ben's sword was with Tillby still, since he did not have the foresight to ask for it back. He wondered if the Pritchett and Grimby were any good with swords.

"Stop messing with the prisoner and turn around," Ben said.

"What are you yammering about, damned fool..." Pritchett turned around, locked eyes with the beast just as it stepped out from under the shadows. Calling it huge, would be an understatement. It still had the look of a dog, but the proportions were off, and its eyes denoted too much intelligence for it to be a simple animal. Great and bright yellow strips covered the sides of it, something akin to paint flowing and falling in droplets onto the grass. Its head was three times the size of a normal dog and its black fangs hanged over the lower lip, almost curving back into flesh. Steam rose from it, as the animal walked. Three tails sprung from its backside and brushed the earth as they went.

They all froze, a moment suspended in time, nobody wanting to make a noise, or even move, trying to keep the world as it was for a few seconds more.

"Give me your sword," Ben whispered to Pritchett.

"No damn way. You don't see the dog?"

"That's no fucking dog," Grimby said. "Looks like it stepped right out of the Bottom Hell. For all we know, it might've. I knew the gods had it in for me. "

"You ever see me fire a rifle before? Give me the sword so I can defend myself, or make the effort at least. Rifles are by the tree, you want to make a play for them, give me something at least, hold off the beast for more than the two seconds it will take to rip my head off." said Ben.

Pritchett pulled his sword from its scabbard and handed it to Ben. He then looked at Grimby and nodded. "How young are you feeling, Tim?"

"In front of this thing? Like I want my dad to come and rescue me," said Grimby.

"I think he meant how fast you can run and get the rifles," said Ben.

"Well, I'll say that I'm not feeling very confident in my abilities just now. How do you know it won't just go for me instead? Just look at those eyes. I feel like I'm looking at a person when I stare at them. For all we know this thing used to be a person before it got made into some messed up dog or whatever it's now." said Grimby.

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"Get to the rifles, toss one to Pritchett. Shouldn't be more than a few seconds," said Ben. "I don't think it will move until we do." He changed his grip on the sword and then changed it again, wondering if he could dance around the beast or get in close and slice at one of the legs.

"We're only getting the two shots, boys," said Pritchett. "There'll be no time to reload."

"Just hit your shot, Corporal, and I'll hit mine," said Grimby, following that with a small prayer to the Saint of Luck.

The beast looked from one of them to the other, front legs arching slowly, the animal's tongue lolling between its fangs.

Ben shouted and stepped in close, slashing against the animal's eyes. The beast roared and jumped back, unharmed. Grimby went for the rifles, and the beast pressed its back feet against the ground, jumping over Ben, landing in front of Grimby and swatting the man with its giant paw.

Ben moved to the animal's right side, and before the beast could turn around, he sliced at its right ear, leaving it hanging by a strip of skin. With this, the monstrous hound forgot Grimby, decided that ending Ben's life to be the more pressing concern.

The beast bit Ben by the arm, swinging him into the nearest tree. The man hit the tree with a thud, and collapsed on the ground, the sword falling out of his hand.

Grimby made it to the rifles, cocking one of them, before throwing it to Pritchett, and picking up the second, for himself. Ben stood, with some difficulty, picked up the sword, and went at the monster, moving in a circle around it, trying to find an opening.

Pritchett kneeled down, rifle in tow, taking his time to let out a breath, aiming for the beast's head. He was sure if they did not kill it instantly, then even in its death throes, would have enough strength to kill them. He took careful aim and pulled the trigger. The bullet smashed the hound's nose, ricocheting into the ground.

The crack of the rifle startled the hound and the bloody snout did not do much to improve its mood. The damage appeared to not be severe, as the bleeding soon stopped on its own.

Grimby shot on the other side of the clearing, the bullet tearing a part of the animal's flank, but largely ineffective.

"What the fuck is this thing?" Grimby cried out. The monster's attention turned to him, and the hound charged, landing in front of Grimby and sinking its fangs in the right shoulder, swinging the helpless man from side to side. The beast's claws tore into the man's innards. His belly sliced open and guts hanging from the outside, Grimby got tossed aside by the animal, rolling to a stop against a tree.

Ben jumped on the back of the great beast and tried to sink his sword into the back of its head. The sword bounced off the armored skin and losing his balance Ben fell to the ground. He rolled, avoiding the claws, coming up on the other side of the hound.

He found the still bleeding shot on the flank, where the animal's skin was broken through and the flesh exposed, and seeing it as his last chance, Ben thrust the sword through the wound. Golden fluid began to drip from the beast's wound, along with blood. Finding purchase, Ben pushed as much as he could before the beast roared in pain and tore at him with its back legs, knocking him aside.

Covered in blood and golden ichor that was now flowing freely from the monster, Ben crawled on his hands and knees away from it. Out of the side of his eye, he saw Pritchett kneeling, pouring gunpowder down the barrel of his rifle, and tamping it down with a rod.

Ben's sleeves had rolled up as he crawled, and he noticed the golden ichor coating the cursed wrappings around his forearms. Blue markings appeared along the wrappings, and they started giving off an uncanny glow.

The beast watched Ben with its blue eyes and showed its fangs, stalking forward slowly. It turned its head, severed ear flopping uselessly as Pritchett shot. Once more, a bullet hit the beast, to almost no effect.

Ben's arms began radiating heat, the wrappings almost unbearable on his skin. He remembered on the beach, how he had clapped his hands and fire had sprouted.

The giant hound was nearly atop Ben the beast's three tails swinging excitedly behind it. With no other recourse, and feeling ridiculous, Ben clapped his hands together.

Fire exploded from his palms, bright and dangerous. It burst out into the sky, and both beast and man stared at each other confused for a few moments.

Surprise passing, Ben focused the flames against the monster, willing them to be bigger, burn hotter, and to melt the damn thing. The fire coiled around his palms, going where Ben directed, the ease of using such power almost unbelievable.

The hound yelped helplessly as the fires engulfed it. It rolled desperately on the ground, abandoning the fight. It went on, smashing against the trees, and spreading the fire. Ben watched it bark and whine as it vanished into the trees, a bright spot into the coming nightfall, crying its pain for all to hear.

Pritchett was stunned, rifle fallen from grasp. Sweat covered his brow, and the right shoulder of his coat was singed by the gunpowder ignition.

With a thought from Ben, the flames vanished. The clearing was now dead quiet. Ben felt the wrappings on his arms, pressing his fingers against them in wonder. He turned to Pritchett and said, "So that's what these things are for."