It always amazes you how difficult it is to tell the time without a clock or time-telling device. You must have been, what, 3 hours since you were separated from your group? Maybe 4? You cannot tell. The moon had just started illuminating your group's path before those... things attacked.
You had watched as two hunters were ripped clean in half by one of the creatures. Blood had splashed the still green grass and splattered across your face as the leader's head was crushed in the jaw of the second creature. The screams and desperate running of the hunting group flashed in and out of your mind's eye.
With each step you take forward, the dew-covered grass crunched under your feet, mimicking the sound the scout's flesh and muscle made as it was torn from their limbs by the creatures' jaws. You know not what they were. Only that they were big, fast, and, despite their size, moved in complete silence. You were the only girl in the group, wanting to prove just how much of an asset you could be to the hunting party. Your understanding of animal behavior and the various properties of plants in healing was vital in cases of emergency. But no amount of Yarrow or Chamomile ointment would save a man from those creatures. You are lucky enough to have survived, let alone to have made it this far alone.
The wind whistled gently, brushing your hair from your blood-splattered face. Your breathing had eased over the past two miles you had walked alone. It was no longer shaking or heaving, but shallow and slow. Your head was pounding with stress and fear. Why had you escaped? Not once did the creatures even touch you. Maybe it was your size. The men you were with were all either built or repulsively fat. Perhaps you, as a small target, did not seem like an immediate threat. You were also unarmed aside from your small hunting knife. The other men carried boar hunting spears, crossbows, or daggers. Could the creatures identify harmful objects? Were you ignored because of your lack of weapons?
A feeling of cold settled into your being, but it was not caused by the warm summer evening breeze, no. It was that deeply rooted, quickly spreading, skin-crawling cold feeling. A feeling caused by thoughts and revelations. Why were you still alive? Would the creatures not look for you? They had seen you. One had leapt over you while another had turned to face you, staring down at you with its bright shining yellow eyes as it crushed the servant boy's windpipe, almost absent-mindedly.
It was another half mile before anything happened. You had just crossed a small network of streams and were walking along the pebble beach when the chill set in again. Not the same as before. This was a primal chill. You could feel eyes on you. You felt stalked. The feeling was not the same as back in the village when the sleazy baker's apprentice had followed you home, hoping to ravage you in your sleep after an argument the two of you had had about your bread being charred. No. This was different. You were not a quick, everyday target. You were carefully monitored prey.
Before you could even consider sprinting back the way you came, a large shadow bolted out of the trees before. As quick as an arrow it pounced on you, flattening you against the pebbles. You feel matty fur tickle your nose and cheeks as the creature presses its full weight against you. You struggle and kick, but the weight of its body is too much. Its breathing is ragged. Somewhere above you, the sound of doglike panting can be heard.
Your struggles become increasingly desperate, costing you precious energy. As though feeling your fatigue kick in, the creature backs away from you, letting you sit up. The quiet shifting of pebbles is audible as the creature slowly slinks around you as if waiting for you to make any rash movement as an excuse to pounce again.
The clouds shift, allowing the full moon to beam down onto the beach, revealing one of the most magnificent beasts you had ever laid eyes upon. The creature had erected itself onto its hind legs, towering a little over 8 feet above you. Its fur is long, unkempt, and grey as ash. It was built for speed, its legs are muscular and bent backwards, like a dog. Its midsection is slim and defined, its abdominal muscles flexing with each breath. Its head is that of a wolf with sharp, yellowing fangs on display as it snarls down at you. Its glowing green eyes pierced right through your gaze, boring into your flesh, past muscle, past bone, and straight into your life essence.
It becomes very obvious what you are dealing with. To your knowledge, werewolves were not from around these parts. They typically dwelled far to the north, thousands of miles from your village.
The werewolf approaches you again, slower this time. You cower, curling up, ready for your arms to be torn from their sockets or your neck snapped in those gorgeous jaws. But no. Silence. You gradually open your eyes to see the beast surveying you with mild interest. There is an almost playful nature lingering in its gaze. It leans closer, gently sniffing your face. You recoil at the tickling sensation. It leans closer again, sniffing your cheek before gently beginning to lap at your skin. Its tongue is rough and soaked. Each lap of its tongue scrapes your skin. It is now that you realize what is happening. The creature was rinsing your face, ridding it of the dried blood of your fallen party.
After a while, the beast distances itself from you again, once again surveying you. Your feelings of fear and horror subside as if blown away by the cool wind. You feel strangely comfortable and lazy. Your face tingles in the places where the werewolf's tongue had touched you. You had read a lot about these and many other creatures in the village book collection. A particular detail about their saliva sluggishly floats to your mind. Infused with a powerful acid, werewolf saliva has the ability to cause a relatively mild tingling sensation to its victim's skin. Once absorbed, the acid is broken down by the victim's immune system, the byproduct of which acts as a strong paralyzing toxin. It has been observed, however, to affect humans like a powerful aphrodisiac. The reasons for this are unknown.
You had spent considerable time in the village's bookstore and library, reading about all sorts of creatures. The effects of werewolf saliva are known to you firsthand now.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the beast nearing you again. You gasp sharply as you notice something new about the creature as it now stands before you. Its magnificent cock throbbing and twitching between its legs. It was about as long as your forearm, only slightly thicker and a dark shade of purple, resembling a Munstead Wood rose. You marvel at its size. Precum dripping from the pointed head. Your eyes wander to the base. You almost gasp again. At the very base of its cock was its knot, veiny and bulging only a bit larger than your fist and a lighter pink shade than the shaft. You gulped, knowing why you felt like prey earlier. But you were not prey for killing, no. You were prey for breeding.
