The window is suddenly forced open by the powerful gusts of the storm. The story's flow is inevitably disrupted. The fierce winds rushing into the tavern extinguish candles and lanterns, plunging our refuge into total darkness. The storm's intensity sends a clear message: no one is safe from its wrath, not even in the midst of Lysander's tale.

I quickly get up, steadying the window to prevent it from opening further. Philip comes to assist, securing the window with a long wooden stick across the handles.

"Thank you." Phillip says.

Brushing off the snow that had settled on my coat, my hand passes over the emblem of the D'amano estate – a star above a mountain. This emblem brings a flood of memories from my days serving as Arland's personal guard. William's recognition of my origins came from this very coat. Despite the years that have passed since the tragic massacre at the village of Bertoli, I continue to wear it.

I smooth out my coat and settle back at the table. The group remains somewhat on edge, still startled by the window that had swung open with such force.

Roy, keenly observant to every aspect of Lysander's life as detailed in my story, takes a sip of his drink. His eyes glinting with intrigue. "So, continuing with your tale, what did you do after discovering that your brother was a werewolf?"

I paused to drink my ale, then let the story continue to unfold.

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

That morning, I put on my coat, and joined Arland outside the house. Glancing around, I noticed Lysander wasn't playing in the yard as usual.

"Is Lysander, ok?"

Arland's expression shifted rapidly, an indication he was aware something had transpired the previous night. I could see he was armed and prepared for whatever might come.

"There have been reports of dead animals all across town. We need to track down the culprit responsible and put an end to it."

I felt a foreboding feeling inside, the nagging suspicion that the wild animal in question might be Lysander. The images from the previous night were still vivid in my mind; I was certain I had seen him transform into a white wolf.

"Sir, I think it's important to check on Lysander first, before we set out."

"No need for that, Randall. He's sound asleep in his room. However, there's a concerning detail. I found dried blood on his hands and mouth. I'm afraid it's becoming clear who our wild animal might be."

Arland's voice quivered slightly as he expressed his concerns to me. Despite knowing Lysander's wild nature, my experiences with him suggested he only killed for sustenance.

"You mentioned there are multiple reports?"

"At least three." Arland said.

"I don't believe it's Lysander, despite the blood on his hands and mouth suggesting otherwise. We should consider the possibility of a pack of wolves. That seems like the most logical explanation."

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Arland's expression brightened at my reasoning. "You're right. Let's start by heading to the Olsen's house. They were the first to report the incident."

As we set off to investigate the Olsen's claim, I took one last look back at the house. There, I saw Lysander peeking through his window, his eyes fixed on us.

I offered him a smile and a nod before continuing on with our task. Internally, I wrestled with the idea of telling Arland about what I had witnessed the previous night. Yet, revealing it might shake Arland's confidence in his own judgment, a risk I wasn't sure was worth taking.

Upon reaching the Olsen's residence, we found Frederick sitting on his porch, evidently waiting for our arrival. "I'm glad you decided to finally show up."

"Good morning to you too, Fred. What do you have for me?"

Fred stands from his chair and motions for us to follow him. "This way."

We entered his barn to find the lifeless bodies of three sheep. "You're lucky it's winter, or I would've had to bury these corpses early in the morning."

Arland crouched beside one of the deceased sheep, examining its injuries with careful attention.

"It looks more like the work of a bear. The size of the wound is too big to be a wolf."

I carefully inspected the injuries on all three bodies. There were distinct bite marks on each, varying in type. That observation led me to a different conclusion: a single bear wouldn't be fast enough to inflict such varied injuries on all three sheep.

"Arland, take a look at this bite mark, and now this one here. They're different."

"How can you tell?" Arland leaned in closer to the corpse, prompting a swift reaction from me. I quickly grabbed his hand to stop him from making contact with the body.

"Don't touch the bite marks. The foam around the wound suggests that whatever killed this sheep was a rabid animal."

"Thanks for the warning son. So, you're saying these bite marks are from different animals?"

"Yes, the sizes of the incisions vary, my guess is a small pack of wolves. The bite mark you initially pointed out likely belongs to the Alpha. It might be a wolf as large as a bear cub, or perhaps even larger."

Fred stood behind us, clearly confused about our conversation. "Ok, you guys have figured out who did this to my sheep?"

Arland stands and turns towards him. "Based on these injuries, we are dealing with a couple of wolves."

"I wish you luck in your hunt, milord. You're going to need it," Fred said.

"We'll start by scouting the outer rim of the forest. That's likely where we'll find some tracks." Arland said.

Leaving the Olsen's property, we headed straight towards the northern forest. As we followed a narrow trail, I noticed several footprints, with one set noticeably larger than the others. Curious, I dismounted my horse to take a closer look at the unusually large footprint, finding its size and shape unusual for the type of wolves roaming these lands.

"Arland, this is a big wolf. I don't think is wise for us to go after them on our own."

Suddenly, from the shadows, a massive grey wolf appeared, flanked by four smaller wolves. Its jaws were dripping with foam, indicating it was likely the animal responsible for the deaths of Olsen's sheep.

Quickly, I grabbed my bow loading it with an arrow.

"Arland! The wolf!"

The wolf let out a chilling howl, signaling its pack to charge towards us. Arland quickly dismounted, but in the chaos, he couldn't reach his bow to counter the wolves. One of the smaller wolves lunged at him, gripping his clothes in its jaws.

The massive grey wolf moves forward, standing across from me, its fangs completely exposed, waiting for the opportunity to attack.

The tables were turned, we were quickly overpowered by the pack. They were faster, agile and more threatening than any other animal I've encountered.

"Randall! Run! Get out of here!"

I had the alpha wolf in my sights, but in a split-second decision, I redirected my aim to assist Arland. The arrow flew true, striking one of the smaller wolves in the head, causing it to release its grip. Meanwhile, the remaining wolves turned their attention to our horses, causing them to panic and bolt from the scene, leaving us to face the wolves alone.

Lying on the ground, I watched as the massive wolf steadily advanced towards me. Its gaze was unflinching, its growl instilling a deep fear in me. In that moment, I came to the realization that our attempt to hunt these wolves alone was a foolhardy endeavor. The power and ferocity of this creature were beyond anything we had prepared for.