64 the hunt begins

Sitting around the fire, I finished off the last of my own plate, while John and Henry had just started to cook their own food.

At the moment, both of the boys were still inhaling away at their own food, like vacuums.

Setting my plate to the side, I turned to look at the two kids.

"Oh, I nearly forgot to ask. What are your names?" I asked them.

Both of them looked up at me, with nervousness.

Wanting to ease the tension, I decided to speak first.

"I'll go first, my name is Adam." I said with a smile.

Picking up on what I was trying to say, John spoke in english.

"Yeah, he's the Adam you know the one from th~ ow that hurt"John cut in, before I tossed my plate at his head to shut him up.

"Quiet" I told him, giving him a 'you talk, and i'll hit you again', look.

"Neither of them can understand you, but that doesn't mean you can go about telling everyone and their mother who I am. " I chided him.

Our actions made both of the kids laugh at our squabble, and ease up, but only a little.

Turning back to them, I gave them another smile.

The first to talk was the older brother.

"My name is Gérard, and this is my younger brother Olivier." Gérard said, pointing to his little brother, who was just finishing off the last scraps of food on his plate.

"Well it is nice to meet the both of you." I said, giving them both another one of my best smiles.

Now that both of them were done eating, I gathered the plates and gave them to John and Henry to take care of.

Now seated again, I spoke again.

Not wanting to, but not having a choice, I asked the questions that had been on my mind since this morning, when I saw the town.

"What do the two of you remember about last night?" I asked tentatively.

The younger boy, Olivier, turned his head down, and clasped his small hands together at my words in fear, as he clearly remembered the events of the precious night.

But again, his older brother, who was at most 6 or 7, was the first to speak.

"We don't know much." he said, sadly.

"I remember our father waking us from sleep, when it was still dark outside. He carried us to the church. People were screaming." He said, then stopped, as he remembered.

"We made it to the church. Father Philippe was rushing people inside, then…then, he put some wood in the way of the doors. People were scared." He said, stammering out what he could remember.

"Then people started to scream again in the church, that is when our father took us to the side of the church, to the, the." He said, trying to remember what it was called.

"I know what you are talking about, it's called a cupboard." I said.

The boy nodded his head.

"Yes, that. He brought us to the cup-board, and put us in there, while we heard the people in the church scream, someone inside was attacking people…then our father closed the doors, and all we could hear were the screaming people." Gérard said, his eyes glossed over, as the memories of what he could remember flooded his mind.

Looking at the two boys whose minds had become places of mental torment, I couldn't help, but feel bad for them.

Standing up, I walked to the two boys, crouched down, and put my hands on their shoulders.

Me doing so, seemed to break them from their memories, as they both looked up at me.

"It's okay." I said in a reassuring manner, not knowing what else to do.

For an adult I might be able to say something to help, but all of this was new to me. Kids saw the world differently than adults, at least I think they do. And my words may not help them the way they might for an adult.

My words seemed to help a little, as the older boy, Gérard nodded his head, while Olivier sat there still looking down at his clenched hands.

Sitting back down, I started to go over what Gérard had just said, but the church in particular.

'Someone was attacking people inside the church?' I thought.

There was someone in the church who wanted the werewolves to come in.

'But why?'

Who in their right mind would let, what was to then "demons" in?

Satanic cultists was a thing I had heard about only a few times across the ages, and normally as soon as the word of one spread, towns and villagers would pick up their pitchforks, and torches, and kill all who were suspected of being part of such groups, innocent or not.

But could it have been just some deranged cultists in the church?

Doubtful.

There had to have been no less than fifty people in that church, no normal man could possibly take on that many…unless they were supernatural.

My brain shot to the door of the church.

I remembered that it was still perfectly intact, and in no way was damaged, so either what was in there did kill everyone and simply left, or the person inside somehow managed to open the door, and let in the werewolves.

If it was a cult working with the werewolves, that could be a real problem.

They could Enter a village pretending to be a traveler the day before the attack, then when the attack starts, they act like any other scared person, and sneak into any safe place the villagers go, the cultists could open anything to get in their way.

'Mmmm…no, the werewolves I fought were too strong, there's no wooden door, bared or not, that could keep them out, so that can't be right.' I thought, as I scratched my chin, while blocking out the loud munching sounds of John and Henry as they ate their food.

'Could it be that there was already a werewolf inside the church?'

'No, the church was too small for one to hide.' I thought, answering my own question.

'Maybe it was an unchanged werewolf?'

That thought stalled me.

Werewolves can't control their shifting. As soon as the full moon rises, they become mindless beasts, and kill anything and everything they come across.

'But could it be possible?' I thought.

Werewolves were new to me, never before had I run into them before, and in all honesty, I didn't know they existed in this world in the first place, except the shapeshifters from forks Washington.

So recalling the memories from my past life, I went over what I still could remember about werewolves.

Werewolf lore is different in different places.

Some mythologies believe werewolves can control their shifting while some believe it is uncontrollable, during the full moon.

And personally, I have to side with the involuntarily shifting, because anything with at least a smudge of sense, would have known not to continue attacking me, like the werewolves yesterday.

Even though I killed all that had come before them with clear ease, they continued to attack me.

But, there is still the chance that there are some that can control their shifting.

'Perhaps this world has werewolf alphas?' I thought as my brain went over that possibility.

And one thing that was still possible, was the chance some who are bitten, have some sort of genetic difference then the rest of the werewolves, that allow them to be stronger faster and to control when they shift without losing their minds.

And a part of me let out a sigh as I thought of this.

'That's all I need, stronger and faster werewolves, who are already as fast as vampires.' I thought.

But there was also another part of me that knew this was all speculation, so I shouldn't be complaining yet.

But still, even the thought sucked.

Because all I wanted was a peaceful, easy life, with a smidgen of adventure.

And yet, shit just keeps falling in my lap, for me to deal with.

Turning to John and Henry, I spoke.

"I'm gonna take a nap, and will be gone for a few hours tonight, so the both of you will need to look out for the kids." I said, standing to my feet, and making my way towards the cart, where I planned to sleep, while leaving my bed role to the kids.

My nap was peacefully un interrupted, and when I woke, it was already starting to get dark.

Getting out of the cart, where I had used one of the bags of grain as a pillow, I saw Henry and John both seated around the fire while they talked to each other.

Stepping into the light of the fire, both of their heads snapped up to look at me.

"Oh it's just you." Henry said, letting out a breath of air.

"Yes it's just me." I said, with a chuckle, at the two skittish men, as I looked over at the two boys who were sound asleep, wrapped under their blankets.

Walking close to the fire, where both John and Henry were seated, I grabbed a water skin that had been laid close to the fire to heat. I uncorked the top, and down a few mouthfuls of the warm water, to quench my thirst.

Putting the top back into the water skin, I laid it back where it had been, then spoke to John and Henry, who were sitting silently while watching me.

"I'm going to be gone for a while." I said, simply.

"Where are you going?" John asked.

"Hunting." I said with a chuckle.

Continuing before they could speak.

"I need to find out more about these werewolves." I said.

"Earlier I was thinking about the attacked village, and I don't think it was just circumstance that there were that many werewolves that just got together and attacked that village."

"Wait, you believe the attack was planned?" Henry asked.

"I do. The church is what is giving me the most trouble." I said, going over what I had thought about earlier again in my head.

"Church?" Henry asked.

"Oh right, neither of you could understand what Gérard said when we were talking."

"Gérard?" John asked.

I let out a sigh.

"Did neither of you try to talk to the boys?" I asked.

"Of course we tried, but they didn't want to talk to us." Henry said, with a peeved tone.

I shook my head, and decided to deal with that when I got back.

"Look, the older boy is named Gérard, while the younger one is named Olivier." I said.

"Now back to what I had been saying…actually on second thought it's not important to either of you." I said, shaking my head, and turning around to walk back to the cart.

'Trying to explain everything to them would just be a waste of time.' I thought as I walked to the cart.

While John and Henry looked at each other with raised brows.

Once to the cart, I rummaged around for a few minutes, until I found what I had been looking for.

Pulling out one of the extra swords I had brought along, I walked back to the camp.

Stopping by John, I held out the extra sword.

"Here" I said, holding out the sword for him to take.

John looked at the sword in confusion, and didn't take it.

"Uhh, what…what am I supposed to do with that?" He said, looking at the sword.

"You're supposed to take it." I said, shaking the sword, to indicate for him to take the sword.

And slowly he did so, While the look of confusion stayed on his face.

"It's for protection while I'm gone." I said.

"For protection" John said, his look of confusion gone, and now he took on a look of trepidation, mixed with concern.

Looking around him, John spoke again in a whisper.

"Do you think we might be attacked while you are gone?"

I shook my head.

"No, but it's always better to be safe than sorry."

"Why does he get the sword?" Henry asked.

"Because I trust him more than I trust you." I said, turning to look at him.

Going back to the cart, I grabbed my own sword, and belted it on, then went back to the fire to give my last warning.

Stepping back to the fire, I could hear John and Henry arguing about the sword.

"Henry shut it, I gave John the sword, so stop being a baby, and accept it." I said sternly.

"But, if it makes you feel better, here." I said, tossing a dagger I had strapped to my belt to him.

I practically never used the dagger, unless I was cutting meat, so it wasn't important to me.

Henry caught the sheathed dragged in his hands, and wasted no time, pulling it from the sheath, to look at the blade.

"Don't go waving that about, it's very sharp, and can hurt people." I said, giving him another stare, until he re-sheathed the dagger, and set it in his lap.

"Good," I said.

Looking over at the two sleeping kids one last time, I looked back at John and Henry.

"No matter what, protect them if something happens, they have already had a hard life, and seen more than anyone should, the last thing they need now is more trauma. also try to learn their language or teach them English." I said, before leaving, to hunt some wolves.

Now away from the camp, I started running full speed.

Following the tracks I had followed earlier today. But now I was no longer looking for anything that might stick out to me, and now I just ran full speed in the direction of the town, where I could track where the werewolves had come from.

It only took me 30 minutes to reach the desolate town, where as I passed, I could still see a few body's of the villagers.

Circling the town, it wasn't hard to find which direction the wolves had come from. I followed the tracks, through thick forest, and brush, that was mostly trampled by the wolves.

_______

Sorry I didn't post recently, I had to leave town unexpectedly for a few days, and didn't have time to write or post.

Sorry about that.

Word-2'500