All four of them froze in silence for a brief moment, as the howl rang out. “Fuck! The bastard’s pissed himself,” Rok spat, as he recovered from the howl, his acute sense of smell picking up the pungent odor emanating from the man beside him.

“It’s the blood,” Roan pointed at the blood leaking out of the open wound. He raised his head and sniffed a couple of times before adding, “Wind’s carrying the scent.”

“They are on the move, most likely blood-crazed,” the young brother warned, looking at Roan.

Roan let out a heavy sigh, “Of course they are.” He looked at the Wagoner who had calmed down, “Get him up and moving, we’ll make our stand in the light of the fire.”

“Maybe the furballs would ignore us if we let them have him,” Rok suggested in a tone which obscured his true intent. The Wagoner let out a shriek of terror at that, his body shuddering.

“Rok!” Roan thundered. Rok sighed and gripped the back of the fallen man’s shirt. He then effortlessly hauled the wagoner off the ground, like an adult handling a toddler. The Wagoner did not protest the rough treatment, the fear of incoming horrors overwhelming any pain from bodily harm, and when he was on his feet and able to move, the four of them bolted in the direction of the fire.

Reaching the fireplace, the three swordsmen discarded their cloaks as those could impede their movements, their faces revealed by the firelight.

Rok was a bald man with scars lining his face. Far from traditionally handsome, his facial features could be considered attractive in its rough masculinity. More importantly, the man was armed to teeth with small throw-able blades, twenty-four blades in total, housed within small pockets that were stitched to every part of his armor.

Roan had a broad face with long brown hair, complimenting his massive body and broad shoulders to enhance his already intimidating presence.

The Young brother, on the other hand, had a princely face, his dark brown hair cut short, and that combined with his youth and robust constitution he could be considered a true specimen of human beauty.

Roan and the younger brother drew their long blades, dropping their sheaths to the ground while Rok pulled out a couple of his many knives after sheathing his long sword and strapping it to his back once more, as they took a defensive stance around the wagoner. They readied themselves for the attack they knew was imminent, carefully observing for any signs of enemy movement.

“Shit! I forgot the crossbow,” the young brother spoke, looking in the direction of the wagon.

“Leave it, It’s too late for that,” Roan ordered, looking in the enemies direction. Red glowing eyes glared at them from the shadows of the forest, accompanied by vicious growling noises. Roan turned and faced the direction of the noise, Rok and the young brother covering his flanks, the wagoner protected in the middle.

Three ghastly silhouettes crawled out of the shadows, the firelight revealing their dreadful forms. Fur as black as the darkest night allowing the creatures to practically melt into the shadows at convenience, their growls revealing monstrously sharp teeth protruding out of their elongated jaws which paled in comparison to the size of their canines, and with the likely strength in those jaw muscles, a bite would probably penetrate through anything other than solid steel. Saliva or more accurately a horrific version of it oozed out from the sides of their mouths, claws as long as a human’s fingers could render flesh and crush bones with ease.

It’s back hunched as it walked on all fours, like a human pretending to be a wolf or more accurately a demon wearing a wolf’s skin.

“Are my eyes deceiving me or are these things bigger than the usual?” the young brother asked, blinking a few times in surprise.

“Nope, definitely bigger,” Roan replied.

“Meh, I have seen bigger,” Rok spoke in earnest, but it still came out as a brag.

Standing on their hind legs, the creatures stood a foot taller than an average human. They stared at the three swordsmen and growled more viciously in an attempt to threaten off perceived competition, and when the three men did not budge or show any hint of fear, the wolves were back on all fours and encircling the group.

They made a careful effort of avoiding the wagon and the horses that had started panicking. After enough time taking their enemies measure, all three of them charged towards Roan, trying to take him by surprise by a burst of speed, moving with such speed to appear a shadowy blur in the firelight.

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The young brother moved with similar inhuman speed to intercept one of the wolves trying to flank Roan, the beast barely managing to dodge a lightning-fast swipe from the brother’s sword aimed towards decapitating it, and escaped with a shallow cut on its chest by leaping backward in haste.

A knife thrown with incredible precision and speed had staggered the wolf flanking the other side. It had lodged deep into the beast’s right arm. Rok had aimed at its head but the beast had barely managed to block it in time.

It roared in pain as the knife burned the flesh around it and Rok was about to shower it in more blades when he saw two more wolves coming from his right, which was Roan’s rear side. The three wolves had been a distraction. These two were coming for their intended target, the bleeding wagoner.

Rok turned towards the two incoming wolves and threw a total of four knives in rapid succession at the one in the front and this time he didn’t miss his intended targets, disabling the monster. Two of blades stuck the monster’s upper head, one lodging into its neck and one hitting the area of the chest where its heart would be.

He was about to unsheathe more knives to finish the second wolf when he noticed the beast from earlier had managed to remove his blade and closed the distance between them. The beast was consumed with rage and would not allow Rok time to prepare more knives as it rushed forward.

Rok unsheathed his longsword off his back and prepared himself to engage the beast in melee after he barely managed to dodge the monster’s sharp claws by rolling to a side.

“One on the rear,” he shouted in haste as he waited for his adversary’s next attack.

Roan had just finished off his target with a swift thrust that penetrated the beast’s skull with ease. After dislodging the blade he finished the monster off by decapitating it, every move performed with a graceful efficiency. Roan turned around in haste to find that the beast was already within striking distance of the Wagoner, the man had barely managed to survive a swipe from the beast’s claws.

The monster had clearly lost some of its earlier momenta and was clearly more hesitant after witnessing the death of its partner, but before the creature could deal a fatal blow to the Wagoner, Roan was on him, tackling the monster to the ground with his massive body.

He had decided not to use his longer than usual blade to strike the beast, as it was standing inches away from the wagoner. The two of them rolled on the ground trying to get the upper hand against each other, the beast managing to put some hurt on him with its claws.

Luckily for him, his armor dulled most of the impact, so he only received shallow wounds. Eventually, the struggle ended in Roan being pinned down by the monster as he barely managed to hold the beast back while it bared its massive fangs a few inches from his head.

As the beast was about to devour his face, Roan grabbed the beast’s snout with his left hand and the jaw with the other and prevented it from snapping its mouth closed and crushing Roan’s head.

The beast responded by digging its claws deep into Roan’s shoulders, easily penetrating the leather, and after gripping him tightly it struggled to free its head from Roan’s hold, its claw tearing into his flesh as it did so.

Roan groaned in agony as blood spurted out of the tear in the armor where the claws had gone through, and he recognized he was just a moment away from a gruesome death.

This wasn’t the first time he had found himself in a situation like this, but this still unique in that he could not rely on his superior sword skills to rescue him out. He knew one thing for sure. He needed to act quickly if he wanted to save himself.

Roan gathered all his remaining strength, partially fueled by pain and widened the monster’s mouth by pulling its jaw down until he was able to dislocate it off its socket, and with an audible crack completely yanking it out, killing the beast. His face and upper body became completely engulfed in blood and gore as the monster’s limp body crashed over him.

With the adrenaline from his earlier act still rushing through his body he swiftly pushed the heavy carcass off him and stood up to retrieve his sword which had fallen off his grip during the tussle, before decapitating the beast laying on the ground.

He picked up the jawless head by gripping some of the hair on top of its head with his left hand, and with the sword held in his right hand, he turned around.

He then raised them both towards the sky and roared triumphantly, mockingly looking at the full moon in the dark sky before glaring at the two wolves still in the fight, his blood-drenched features that were being highlighted by the light from the fire added to make his visage more terrifying.

He had survived. He was still undefeated in single combat and his enemies needed an abject lesson in fear.

Roan’s terrifying display of strength and the brutal death of their pack mate sent tremors through the spine of the two remaining wolves, giving the young swordsmen enough of an opening to finally deal a fatal blow to his target.

After dodging a strike from Rok the remaining wolf noticed his isolation and without delay, turned around and started running towards the safety of the shadowy forest but before he could enter the shadowy realm and disappear, a knife penetrated the back of its right thigh and it stumbled to the ground.

The beast growled in pain as the flesh around the knife burned, but its instinct to survive soon overpowered the pain from the wound as it struggled desperately to get back on its feet. Letting out a desperate howl, it started dragging itself towards the woods, stumbling frequently as its injured limb slowed its movement.

The howl, which sounded more like a cry was cut short by a knife that penetrated the back of its skull and the beast went down again, this time in a more permanent capacity. Rok picked up the sword he had dropped while using his blades and quickly covered the distance between him and the wolf and finished it off by decapitating its head.