CHAPTER 5.5: PREDATORS AND PROSE
“Did yah hear, Farmer Craddic’s got ‘imself a dire cow in his herd! Yah, it nearly big as a chicken coop and makes nuff milk to fill a tub each morn! If Craddic can feed the blighter he’ll be set for years. You kids better take a look when yah can, most dire beasts be ready to eat yah whole, not keep an entire village fed with cheese. The gods must be favoring us dis year with sucha omen, so make sure you tell old Mama Earth yur thankful in tonight’s prayers.”- Old Man Willicock, resident of Albanorich, speaking to a gathering of bored village children.
----------------------------------------
Natalie found the three werewolves at the entrance to the Wagon fort. All three wore loose tunics that could be easily slipped out of. Jaks and Jokin both did a double take upon seeing Natalie. Hints of a blush spreading on their tan faces. Ametza, for her part, looked decidedly unamused. Her scowl deepening to chthonic levels.
“We scented a Boar last night before the Ghouls attacked. Our hunt was interrupted by those Rotters. I’ll lead us to where we last smelled them. Jaks and Jokin will go ahead and flush the prey toward you and me. As our ‘guest’ Little Leech, you will get the honor of the kill. I’ll stay close to make sure you don’t screw it up.”
Biting her tongue, the sharp pain helping her push back her annoyance. Natalie calmly replied. “It seems like a good plan. But my name is Natalie. Please call me by it, or I’ll be forced to call you Little Rug, Ametza.”
Jokin actually bit back a snort at that, earning a fierce glare from his cousin. They set off, following the small Werewolf into the winter forest. For the first kilometer or so, no one spoke. Until Jaks broke the silence. “So Natalie, you and the Paladin were hunting the Ghouls we fought, right? What's the story there?”
Before she could answer, Ametza interjected. “She’s screwing the Paladin, Jaks. Don’t go sniffing around.”
Jaks tried to splutter something to his defense, but Natalie cut him off. Ignoring Ametza’s crude remark and answering his question. “We encountered some Bandits. After Cole dealt with them, we traced their trail of destruction. They’d butchered a Farmstead and let their victims Rise. We found the Farmstead and another hamlet they attacked then followed the Ghouls to your camp.”
Thankful she hadn’t acknowledged Ametza’s words. Jak nodded as if pleased. “That's a righteous hunt. Not my cut of meat but still an important one. I’m sorry my brother and I acted so rashly. See, we were rushing back to help. We didn’t know what was happening, only that the pack was in danger. We got…overzealous and didn’t act with Honor.”
Natalie smiled at the Werewolf brothers, careful to not show her fangs. “Apology accepted. To be perfectly honest, I can understand why you all reacted that way. If the roles were reversed, I don’t know if I’d have acted any different.”
Some tension seemed to ebb from the brothers and Natalie as well. Despite their respective curses, they were all around the same age. With a level of understanding easily growing in the fertile ground of a shared cohort. For the next hour, they talked. Swapping stories of their youths and experiences. Natalie kept tight-lipped about the details but still shared bits of her former life. Quickly it became clear to Natalie the brothers were similar to so many other Hunters and Woodsmen she’d known back at Glockmire. Perhaps a little more…wild, but not deviating from the same basic archetype.
Just as Jokin finished some anecdote about saving his brother from a Bog inhabited by a particularly ornery Rot Spirit, Ametza raised her hand in a silencing gesture. Sniffing the air loudly, the youngest Werewolf turned to her companions and nodded. All three quickly started pulling their clothes off. Before fabric even hit the ground, the noise of popping bones and reforming flesh filled the winter forest. Natalie watched as tan skin was buried under thick fur. Limbs stretched and twisted while muscle swelled and bestial features manifested. Paralyzed by fear and morbid curiosity, she watched as Ametza’s face stretched out. Pulled forward into a snout as fur sprouted and fangs lengthened.
In less time than she could have imagined, three hulking avatars of primal fury stood before her. The only thing unchanged in the trio was their eyes, and Natalie forced herself to look at them. That little bit of familiarity helped ground her. It made pushing back the rising terror a little bit easier. Because, despite her best effort, Natalie felt pure fear when she looked at the Werewolves. Not because of what they’d done to her or Cole. But because of what she saw every time she shut her eyes. The rotting form of the Varcolac, with her mother's blood dribbling from its maw.
Forcing herself to breathe, using the motion to calm herself. Natalie whispered under her breath. “Imokayimokayimokay.” sucking in another breath she continued. “They aren’t the monster. We can do this.”
Pulling herself back to the present, she realized all three Werewolves were looking at her with intense, curious expressions. Scratching her neck, resisting the urge to reach for her hair-pin. Natalie murmured. “Sorry, I’ve had bad experiences with… um, well, a Werewolf. Or at least kind of a Werewolf.”
The three Werewolves looked at each other for a moment. Then Jak and Jokin took off. Slightly relieved to be dealing with only one Werewolf, even if she was the most hostile one, Natalie started her own preparations. She unsheathed her shortsword and dropped the dog's skull to the ground. Whispering her familiar's name thrice and calling him into being. Almost instantly, a barrage of new smells hit Natalie. Her own supernatural senses easily surpassed by the ghostly dog. Chief among the odors, a whiff of fetid mud, pig feces, and musty fur. The smells of a Wild Boar. While faint, it was more than enough for Grist and the Werewolves to track.
Forcing herself to look at Ametza, Natalie nodded in confirmation she was ready, and the two loped out into the forest. Even with stolen blood pumping through her legs, pushing her to speeds a Hare might struggle with. Natalie could barely keep up with Ametza. The power of the Wolf, enhanced by a millenia-old curse and directed by the mind of a keen huntress proved its worth.
Vampire and Werewolf ran side by side. Following the scent of the Boar. Grist ahead of them both, his unliving stamina and four-legged gait matching Natalie and Ametza. They ran for a time, the setting Sun casting long shadows as the scent grew stronger. Something about the whole experience was dreadfully thrilling to Natalie. The speed, the chase, the thrill of the hunt. It spoke to her in new, dark ways.
The howl of two monsters broke through the quiet evening. Prey had been spotted and was now being driven towards them. A wide smile spread across Natalie’s face at that. Her fangs lengthened in anticipation. The smell of Boar was thick, and it seemed to drive Ametza to new heights. Falling onto all fours, the Werewolf shot forward, her monstrous form suited for the more primal method of movement. Annoyed at being left behind, Natalie tried to push more blood into her legs. But she knew any more would simply send her flying. The additional strength launching her up instead of forward.
Unwilling to fall behind, Natalie wracked her mind for another solution. As she almost stumbled over a root, the answer hit her. Natalie poured her crimson power into her nerves. If she couldn’t make her legs stronger, then she could make them more efficient. The world seemed to slow for Natalie. Time turned from a flowing rapid to a syrupy crawl. Suddenly the detail of her environment stuck out with ease. Her legs moving with a dancer's poise. Wasting no time between steps. Every stride perfectly calculated.
Smiling widely, Natalie caught up to Ametza. But her victory was short-lived. The effort was draining her blood incredibly quickly. While a throbbing headache started in Natalie’s forehead. Her mind struggled to work at the speeds she demanded. Forced to slow down, Natalie started to lag behind Ametza. The Werewolf spared Natalie a glance, her mouth lolling open in some lupine smirk of victory. Ametza didn't gloat for long. A massive shape smashed out of a bramble-thicket and right into Ametza.
Skidding to a halt, Natalie’s eyes widened as a behemoth plowed into her Werewolf comrade. The brothers had found a Boar, but not just any Boar. Easily the size of a farmers cart, and covered in soot-black fur was a colossal beast of a Hog. Ametza let out startled yips as dagger-sized tusks gored her. Pinned to a tree, trapped by the weight, hoofs, and tusks of the Boar, Ametza was desperately trying to get free.
This close to the Boar, Natalie detected something else. A faint pressure radiating from it like a light breeze. It was no physical sensation but a magical one. The Boar’s size was not natural. Something about that pressure brought Natalie’s Hunger roaring to life. Peckish from her recent expenditures, the Vampire sensed powerful blood and wouldn't be denied. Natalie, the human sought to save her ally, and Natalie the Vampire desired a feast. They found common ground and acted in rare concerte.
Leaping forward, Natalie rammed her shortsword into the Boar’s side. Dense fur, thick hide, and layers of fat blunted her strike, but the blade still sunk halfway to the hilt. At Natalie’s command, Grist pounced for the Boar’s back legs. Boney jaws trying desperately to hamstring the beast. Using her short sword as a crude handhold, Natalie pulled herself up onto the beast's back. Undead instincts guiding her movements more than anything else.
As Ametza struggled with the furious Boar, Natalie slithered along its back and down its side. Thick bristly fur made good handholds. Following the sound of the Boar's thundering heartbeat, she reached its neck and tore out a chunk of fur. The Boar let out a thunderous squeal and started to shake violently. But it was too late. Natalie struck, fangs sinking into the Boars neck. More in control of herself than she’d been in any previous violent feeding, Natalie experimented. Injecting one of her venoms into the Boar.
Almost instantly, it's thrashing slowed as it backed away from Ametza and stumbled for a few steps. Rich blood poured into Natalie’s throat as she fed. Glutting herself on the feast, Natalie paid no mind to the Boar’s tottering gait. Only realizing what was happening when the Boar started to list. Clinging to its side, Natalie could only brace for impact as the Boar collapsed onto her.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Pain shot through her body as bones creaked, flesh bruised, and pride was wounded. Still, buried under hundreds of kilos worth of Hog, Natalie fed. Drinking down a colossal blood meal and tasting the Boar’s death. Part of its soul flowed into her as she took its life. As its heart finally stopped, the Boar’s blood flowed less, and Natalie’s guzzling feast turned into a final few sips. The weight of the Boar started to shift, and Natalie ended her feeding. Spitting foul-tasting fur from her mouth and looking up to see the three werewolves rolling the boar off of her.
Slowly, languidly getting to her feet, Natalie stretched. Her injuries instantly healed as she did. The Alukah’s power putting the feast to good work. Skin warm with false life, Natalie felt alive. Natalie had fed more than she’d ever before, and without any of the guilt, her previous large meals had been accompanied by. The Hunger was sated, for now, at least.
Looking down at the colossal boar, she asked the Werewolves. “Was it supposed to be that big?”
All three Lycanthropes shook their heads in the negative. Jaks, or maybe Jokin croaking out an answer. “It Dire… beast.”
A Dire Beast, well, that explained things. Humanoids are not the only creatures effected by magic. Animals exposed to magic could produce strange offspring. Mutants of all kinds, with Dire Beasts being the most famous. Animals grown to huge sizes. Sustained in part by magic and feared by Hunters the world over.
Ametza approached Natalie and bobbed her head in what *might* have been acknowledgment. Then she left, returning the way they came to gather the Werewolves’ clothes. As she departed, Natalie noticed the She-Werewolf was favoring one side. Her silver-inflicted injuries made worse by the Dire Boar’s tusks. Jaks and Jokin wordlessly grabbed the Boar and started to drag it behind them. Grist was still latched onto the Dire Boar’s leg, smiling at the sight. Natalie commanded the Familiar to let go. Grist complied, but she got a vague sense of displeasure from him. The magical animus overjoyed in the hunt.
With a thought, she dematerialized grist, picking up his skull and pulling her shortsword from the Dire Boar’s side. Dead blood splattered onto the snow, and she flicked the blade, sending a shower of scarlet to her side. Cleaning the blade, she sheathed it and followed the Werewolves. Soon Ametza came into view. Returned to her humanoid form and clad in a stained tunic. Drying blood dotted the shirt, her bandages ripped apart in the transformation. Falling into step beside Natalie, Ametza glanced over the Vampiress.
“Jumping onto the Dire Boar's back took guts. You could have waited for my cousins instead of risking yourself. Why didn’t you?”
Natalie was surprised by the question. She hadn’t even thought to wait, the idea never crossing her mind. “I thought you needed help, and I wanted to feed. Two birds, one stone”
Ametza accepted that answer and, after a moment, asked. “You said another Werewolf hurt you once. What happened?”
Scanning the young Werewolf’s face, Natalie looked for any deception or mockery. She found none, just a stoic calmness. Deciding to bet on this moment, Natalie spoke. “My mother. She was killed by a Varcolac.”
Ametza digested that before matter-of-factly saying. “We will kill it for you. It's my people's duty to put down our lost kin. Even if they are already dead.”
Smiling sadly, Natalie looked at the two hulking Werewolves dragging the Dire Boar. “Thank you, but no need. Cole destroyed it.”
That got a flicker of surprise from Ametza. Natalie could almost see the Werewolf reassessing her opinions of both herself and Cole. Which, after a day of constant needling, suited Natalie just fine. As the sun finally set, Natalie felt new energy enter her limbs. Combined with the buzz of Feeding, she felt more alive than she had in weeks.
The smell of smoke and grapes greeted them as they approached the Werefolk camp. A great pyre was burning. While they’d been gone, the Werefolk had gathered up the Ghoul’s bodies and set about burning them. The Pack stood near the pyre, heads knelt in prayer. A prayer Cole was leading. He sat on his knees before the pyre. A deep chant of Saint-Speech coupling with the crackling flames into a mourner's melody. He finished as they arrived and two of the Werefolk Triplets helped pick up Cole. Carrying him back to his tent. Natalie couldn’t help but giggle at how uncomfortable Cole looked. Being manhandled by the two shorter men made for a comical sight.
Other members of the Pack broke away from the service. Two, in particular, caught Natalie’s attention. A stout woman with forearms thick as tree roots, accompanied by a skinny fellow with a long lupine face. They met Jak and Jokin and directed them to drag the Boar a little ways from the camp. Two children slipped from the Wagons and towards the two older Werefolk. Presenting them with aprons and butcher tools. Life in an Inn had taught Natalie to recognize Cooks from across a mountain valley. The sight of the pair directing their kids to help them brought a throb of sadness to her. Stirring up memories of her Father’s kitchen and her days helping him.
Pushing down the sadness, Natalie found Cole in their tent. The exhausted-looking Paladin was stretched out on his cot. More blankets had been added to his sick bed, and that wasn’t the only change. Natalie's pitiful fire had been replaced with a small but serviceable circle of rocks with some tinder and wood in it. A wash basin and bucket of clean water was over in one corner. While a long wooden box lay next to Cole’s cot. Natalie stared at the box for a few seconds trying to figure out its purpose. Then it hit her. Someone, probably out of misguided courtesy, had supplied her with a coffin.
Slipping past the morbid container, she reached Cole's bed and climbed onto it. Carefully slipping a leg over him and straddling his body. Cole slipped a hand to her thigh and opened his eyes. “I’ve certainly had worse dreams”
Natalie leaned down, embracing him but careful to not put her weight fully on him. Warm with false life, she nestled into Cole’s chest. Putting his other hand on the small of her back, Cole asked, “How was the hunt?”
Shrugging slightly, Natalie kissed Cole’s chest before answering. “I fed well, and I think the Werewolves are tolerating me now. So that's good”
“Yes, it is,” murmured Cole, his hands drifting along Natalie’s body. With surprising speed, he found her buttocks, squeezing the firm flesh beneath the tight leather. Natalie let out a surprised gasp followed by a contented purr.
“You seem to be feeling better,” she remarked.
Cole chuckled, a deep rumble Natalie could feel. “More, I just have had the image of you in these leathers stuck in my head for the past few hours.”
Sitting up, putting her hands on his chest, Natalie smiled down at him. “Oh? Then how about you help me get them off, and we measure your recovery?”
An awkward cough brought both of them back to reality. Ametza was standing at the tent entrance, looking profoundly uncomfortable. Quickly pulling herself from Cole, Natalie sheepishly asked. “Uh, how long were you….”
Ametza shrugged. “Long enough. I’m here to invite you both to the Feast. But I can clearly see you are busy, so…”
After exchanging an embarrassed look, Cole, and Natalie said in unison. “No!”
Natalie recovered quickly. “I mean, we’d be happy to join the feast.”
Ametza looked at the abashed Cole and asked. “Do you need me to get someone to help you?”
Cole pulled himself off the cot and started to stand. Through great wincing effort, he got to his feet. Just to nearly topple over. Natalie caught him. Her enhanced strength let her catch Cole. Looking down at Natalie, Cole smiled slightly. “If she helps me, I’ll be fine.”
The trio left the tent and entered the wagon fort. A great fire was roaring with multiple kettles, grills, and pans balanced over it on a huge metal rack. The two cooks and their helpers scurried about preparing a veritable feast. The smell of roasting pork and strong spices filled the air. Making Cole’s mouth water and making Natalie mildly envious of the living. Awnings stretched between wagons covered part of the camp clearing, and fallen trunks had been repurposed as benches. Laughter, conversation, and the clatter of cooking filled the winter night. The sounds only lulled slightly as Cole and Natalie entered. The two or three score Werefolk observing their new companions before going back to their earlier business.
Jaks and Jokin came over and greeted Natalie. The older brother clapped her on the back. “The woman of the hour! It's not every day you see someone rip out a Dire Boar’s throat with their teeth!”
The Werewolves settled Cole and Natalie next to one of the wagon wheels. Soon two Werefolk children approached them cautiously. The first, a small boy, maybe seven or so, gave Cole a plate with a side of boiled meat on it. The other, a girl entering her teens, handed Natalie a large mug. Confused, Natalie looked down at the mug and realized it had fire-warmed boar's blood in it. Another crude but appreciated attempt at hospitality.
Cole dug into the strip of Pork eagerly, and Natalie tentatively sipped the blood. Hours after the beast's death, it lacked magical charge, but it still tasted good. Looking around them, she saw other Werefolk digging into their meals. They lacked anything resembling table manners, and the meals seemed to be just varieties of meat and flavoring. But as she sipped her blood, Natalie knew this was to be expected. They were wolves, after all.
Conversation died down as a lanky Werefolk with a mess of long shaggy hair stepped from one of the wagons. He wore a strange patched coat and held a bizarre contraption in his hands. Wooden in construction, it had a small hand crank on one side and was vaguely fiddle-like in shape. A small cheer went up from some of the Werefolk as the newcomer sat down on a log nearby Cole and Natalie.
Jaks hollered. “Three-Fingers! Play us a song, will you!”
Three-Fingers smiled broadly and spoke. His voice was loud and clear but flavored by an odd creaking sound. “Family and new Friends! It is my pleasure to play for you all!”
Standing up, he strutted over closer to Cole and Natalie. Cole glanced at the man’s hands and saw his alias was accurate. The hand holding the crank of his instrument was missing two digits. Running his intact hand over his contraption. Three-Fingers bowed to Cole and Natalie. “Sir Paladin! Lady Natalie! I am Martzel Three-Fingers. Troubadour and vagabond of the Shohgard Pack.”
Slowly at first, he started to spin the crank and strum his instrument. “Have either of you heard the arcane melodies of the Hurdy-Gurdy?”
Both of them shook their heads in the negative, and Three-Fingers beamed. “Oh, then you are in luck! For I am one of the few Minstrels trained in this most rare instrument! Hand-crafted by the Clock Monks of Conradburg! It is a marvel gifted to me in my travels and now here for your enjoyment.”
His cranking sped up, and a creaky, humming melody came forth. Initially disconcerting, but slowly becoming pleasing. Cole and Natalie listened to the strange music as Three-Fingers started to sing.
“~Oh, I speak to you of the Storm Knight! Brave and true was he! Herald of the Father and Sword of mystery! Oh, I sing of him whose blade was lighting and whose foes were frightening!~”
“~Champion of the Sky, born to fly. You twirled through the air like a dancer and faced the Demon’s cancer!~”
“~He who braved the Giants' lair to save a lady fair! The Storm Knight of yesteryear whose memory we keep ever dear. He fought Titan’s spawn and ventured where none had ever gone.~“
“~Champion of the Sky, born to fly. You twirled through the air like a dancer and faced the Demon’s cancer!~”
Three-Fingers continued on. Singing the familiar anthem as bellies were filled and gentle snow started to fall. Natalie leaned her head against Cole’s side and shut her eyes. Only opening them at the sound of Cole’s gentle whisper.
“This road we travel. It’s going to be a long one. But I think it's the right one.”
Looking at the minstrel and the laughing Werefolk, Natalie smiled. “I think you might be right.”