Chapter 03: the Wolf Pack
Motion out of the corner of father Austin's eyes caught his attention and he looked up from the board he was holding, causing an eruption of swearing from the town's carpenter. "That will be ten Hail Mary's for you," replied the priest without turning. Two figures were approaching the little town of Northchester from the southwest, where there were no roads but only forests. The man caught his attention first. A tall and broad chap, he fit the description of any random fighter one might find about the land. However, he wore no armor, nor carried any weapon – not even the tell tell signs of a concealed dagger. His clothes were ragged and dirt stained and carried many memorials of bloody battles. His hair was cut in a short, haphazard manner, standing up every which way in a wild, fearsome manner. Even his beard, though full, had thin patches where someone had torn clumps from. On his back was a large pack that showed the bulging of provisions, not a sign of any weapon. And his eyes... they were an impossibly dark brown, such that Austin wondered if this man might be a son of the dark, not of man and woman.
The woman that tread by his side was such a beauty that for a moment, the priest's heart ached with a mournful passion (though later he rationalized that the woman's looks were heightened by comparison with the man next to her). Her black hair was also cut unusually short, just down to her neck though it did frame her face well and seemed to make her blue-green eyes sparkle that much more. She was about the normal height of most women, but a life of travel and hardship had thinned away her fat and toned her muscles into gorgeous curves. Her lips were almost as pale as her skin, further demonstrating her lack of access to the makeups even some of the poorer women possessed. Her lips too were slightly parted, but rather than appear as if her teeth were too big for her mouth, this instead gave the woman the appearance of ever on the verge of a stunning smile. She too wore no armor and carried only a tall, smooth walking staff. Her clothes were simple as well, ones that could almost be mistaken as those of a man's if her midriff wasn't exposed scandalously by the refusal of her tunic to meet her pants.
"Can I help you?" asked father Austin as he approached the two strangers, his hand slipping into his robes to grip the rosary he carried there next to a small vial of holy water.
"I am Murdoch, this is Alaine," the man answered. "I've been sent here by Bishop Corsini to deal with a... problem your village is reported to have."
The priest studied the young man a moment, waiting for the punchline. When none came, he looked to the girl but her gaze confirmed Murdoch's seriousness. With a sigh, Austin gestured for the two to follow him and led them to the town square where the full destruction could be seen. "As you can see... you're a little late." Alaine gasped in horror and even the stoic Murdoch seemed a bit uncomfortable.
Very few of the remaining buildings were undamaged. The least destruction were windows that had been widened beyond design. Other huts had large holes smashed through their thatch roofs, while large piles of rubble stood where buildings had their walls smashed in and collapsed. Murdoch stepped close to the priest so he could whisper, "I thought the full moon was tonight."
"The wolves come out the night before and after the full moon as well," sighed Austin. "We were lucky this time, only four people dead, none converted. But what about tonight? When the beasts reach the peek of their frenzy?"
"How long have you had this problem?" asked Alaine as her partner started to drift about, scouring the area for clues.
"Three generations ago, we have records that werewolves attacked before," the priest answered neither hiding his voice nor inducing a reaction from the people within earshot. "But it seems that... we thought they were wiped out."
"Think this is a matter of revenge?" Alaine wondered aloud. "Descendants being attacked for the sins of their forefathers?"
Austin was about to respond but the question wasn't directed at him. "Or a statement," answered Murdoch from a crouch, his back to them.
"Find something?" asked the priest as they joined the hunter.
Murdoch pointed to a spot on the dirt road which had become damp enough with last night's rain for an impression to be left: a paw print.
"I don't understand," said Alaine, "it looks like just a normal wolf track."
"Except the inner toe is too large," replied Murdoch. "It's not unlike a human's thumb." Then, he leaned down, putting his face almost in the mud.
"What's he doing?" grumbled Austin.
"Getting the scent," said Alaine.
They watched as Murdoch stood up and scanned the village, his nose flaring. They followed him as he wondered the neighborhood, studying each resident, ever sniffing the air. They had almost made a full circle, heading back toward the town's church when he suddenly grabbed a young boy by the back of the neck.
"What are you doing?" demanded the priest as Murdoch hauled the protesting youth to the town square.
"Blacksmith!" he shouted with a booming voice. "Bring any iron cage you have and secure it before the alter in the church. Now!"
Mummers of disapproval rumbled through the villagers even as the blacksmith obeyed (for Murdoch's command was hardly one that could have been disobeyed by even the stoutest heart). When the cage was brought through the crowd and taken into the church Murdoch ordered, "Go about your business." When protests began to form, he shouted, "This youth will not be harmed, but I have reason to believe he is connected to your current troubles."
"Please," said father Austin in his most soothing voice. "Sir Murdoch is here in order to save us from this wickedness. I will ensure Paul's safety."
***
"I cannot keep you from their anger indefinitely," snapped the priest when they were behind the church doors and he had locked them. "You show up at our village without warning or notice and proceed to accost our young men! I'm sorely tempted to let my parish give into their murderous desires toward you," he barked as Murdoch hauled the kicking and screaming boy down the main aisle.
"If I'm wrong, the boy will be repaid with armor of pure gold," he replied as he stuffed Paul into the smith's cage.
"It's too small!" the boy complained. And indeed it was obviously designed to hold nothing much larger than an average pig.
"Quiet or this will all become far less comfortable," Murdoch snapped, as he crouched before the cage and studied Paul intently.
Alaine who had been silent and almost invisible during the entire scene, lay a hand upon her partner's shoulder. "What is it?"
