Be Were [fantasy]

[Arya Ravenwing]

Running feet pattered through the leaves, muscles gathering and extending as a lean canine shape leapt over a fence. The dark grey shadow cleared the top beautifully, landing almost silently on the other side and continuing it's headlong run into the tree line.

A chicken was clamped tightly between the animal's teeth, nerves still causing the bird to twitch uncontrollably. The wolf slowed its run, and shook it's head back and forth, the chicken's body flopping crazily from side to side. Then it dropped the fowl on the forest floor, put a heavy paw on its side, and listened.

There were no sounds of a pursuit. The full moon peeked through the clouds, bare autumn branches reaching up from the trees as though to ensnare it. Moonlight glinted off the wolf's eyes, turning them a shiny yellow as the pupils dilated. The creature huffed, and whined. In the illumination, one could see it was huge. Shoulders built for strength, as well as speed, and it's black fur was shaggy and dirty. The wolf was completely black, except on its cheek, where a jagged patch of white fur marred it's appearance.

The bitch lowered it's head and began to tear the chicken to pieces.


It was raining. Huge drops the size of a man's thumb were falling from the heavily clouded skies, the cresent moon swallowed up in the storm. A horse whinnied, and then came into view, walking up the middle of the street. On the gelding's back sat a bundled traveler, head down to avoid the rain.

There was no one out in the streets at this time of night. The town was quiet, barring the usual row at the local tavern. The rider directed the horse towards the lighted windows of the Happy Dragon The horse walked to the rail, and the stranger slid out of the saddle, tossing the reins down. The horse stood still, ears flicking back and forth as the traveler checked the saddlebags and pack. Seemingly satisfied, the person turned, and entered the tavern.

The jovial noise and talk quieted, as the heads nearest to the door turned to regard the sodden being who'd just arrived. The dark green cloak was removed, revealing a dark haired woman wearing deerskins. She was soaked from head to toe, apparently having been out in the storm for hours. There was a short sword strapped in a scabbard between her shoulder blades, and as she shook her head to get rid of excess rain drops in her hair, the men closest to her thought she was pretty.

On a closer examination one could see that her skin was too dark, her features too long and pinched, and there was a wicked looking scar on her face that made one of her eyes droop just a bit. Her eyes held the only bit of true beauty that the woman possessed. A deep and vibrant green, they scanned the room, and then the woman approached the bartender.

He watched her approach, wiping out a glass, and then leaning forward, both arms on the bartop. "What's yer pleasure, Hunter? We don't take kindly to your kind around here."

She also leaned forward, her once broken nose close to his reddened one. "I'd like a drink. Or did I come to the wrong tavern?"

The bartender raised an eyebrow, suddenly a little less sure of himself, and then leaned back, placing a tankard in front of the woman. He sloshed a bit of the warm ale out onto the bar, but she took it, and placed a coin where it had been. He took it and bit it, then secreted the coin away, turning back to his duties.

[Arya Ravenwing]

The Hunter turned towards the rest of the tavern as the locals returned to their drinks and their conversations. Green eyes scanned the warm interior, and then she found the eyes of the man sitting in the back by the fire. She took her ale and strode through the long tables, brushing by a man who later swore he felt a chill as she went by.

A group of elves were sitting at the last table, the men giving them a wide berth. They were a small traveling group, obviously only passing through. The woman nodded to one, and it returned the gesture, a hidden smile appearing mysteriously under it's bright blue eyes. The elves returned to their late dinner, and the Hunter joined the man by the fire.

"This isn't what I was expecting." He didn't look at her, but she knew he was addressing her.

"Few people do." Her voice was deep and husky. It sounded like mountains and faraway waterfalls, an exotically feminine voice that seemed incongruous with the rest of the package. She extended her hands, reaching long fingers towards the dancing flames.

"A female Hunter?" He turned to look at her, his brown eyes challenging her green ones. "I'd not believe it but to look at you." His accent was cultured, like someone who'd studied at the university in Galing. She raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

When it appeared he was not going to say anything further, she prompted him. "You are the one who requested a Hunter from the Guild, are you not? Lord Ruistaan, wasn't it?"

"Aye, that I am. I expected ... well not just some female, that is for damn sure." His voice betrayed his anger and frustration. Ruistaan turned away from the flames. "I suppose you will have to do."

"Aye, that I will. Whatever it is you need killed, I can do it." Her tone suggested not pride, but confidence. She knelt in front of the fire, leathers creaking slightly as they dried out. Her eyes flashed angrily for a moment, and then she turned back to Ruistaan. "M'name is Nadiene. And that's all I'll be telling you about me."

"You already know my name, and I need a wolf killed." Ruistaan smiled at the expression of disbelief on the woman's face. "Yes, I'm aware that wolves have been hunted to near extinction in this country. And yet, I have one running rampant on my lands. Its list of crimes are as long as my leg, and growing."

"How long has it been in the area?" Nadiene swiveled slightly to face Ruistaan.

"Five, almost six months." He unconsciously traced his cheekbone as he looked at the scar that twisted the right side of her face. "It attacks during the week of the full moon without fail."

The Hunter shrugged. "So set a trap for it. You're wasting Guild time." She got to her feet, downed her ale, and handed Ruistaan the tankard as she walked back through the Happy Dragon and towards the door.

"Wait!" She heard the tankard hit the stone floor as the lord's chair scraped back, and then she had her cloak in her hand and was back out in the driving rain. Her horse looked at her patiently, content to stand still as long as its reins were hanging free towards the ground.

She clucked at the gelding, and pulled her cloak back on as the doors released Lord Ruistaan into the storm.

[Arya Ravenwing]

"Damn you, woman, stop!" He stood in the rain, water quickly soaking his shirt as she slowly turned around to face him. "Everyone we send out after this creature either returns with nothing, or doesn't return at all. I've lost seven villagers and three of my men in the last two months alone, never mind before that. It is beyond me. Please, I need Guild help."

"No." The word was flat. "You need my help." Nadiene stroked the horse's face. "I will hunt this wolf for you. Standard Guild price." The Hunter turned back to the dripping lord. "I require half the fee up front, as usual, and a place to stay until I have the head of the beast on your gate."

Her green eyes were disconcerting, and he looked away momentarily. "Certainly. You shall stay under my roof until you have killed it."

[Charley]

A commotion at the door of the pub seemed to grow, as the door guard quarreled with an odd-looking man. The gentleman was tall and thin, with slicked black hair, spectacles, and a curled moustache. Pale as the snow, he contrasted himself by wearing a black silken jacket and matching pantaloons, obviously the dress of an aristocrat. He grasped a cane in one hand, and a clumsy assortment of books under the other arm, as he argued with the door guard.

"My good man, if you would please empart your pleasant hospitalities upon me, so as I might entreat upon your establishment in this deluge?"

The grimy guard blinked.

"Wot? You ain't from around here."

The pale man blinked.

"I do confess that I am an outsider from afar, yet my duress is quite genuine, I assure you. Perhaps a farthing might bid me purchase under your sturdy rafters?"

"Look'ere, mista. These lands is cursed, an I'm not in a mind ta open doors ta strangers. On ye way, there be an inn two score furlongs down the way."

The man seemed to shiver under the rain's unrelenting chill.

"I must protest, good sir. Might I seek parlee with your local Lord?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

Ruistaan began to point her towards his over sized mansion, but she stopped him. "I saw it on the way in. I trust the servants will know where to put me?"

"They will be expecting a man, but yes." Ruistaan looked a little embarrassed. Nadiene pulled herself into the saddle, and the horse nickered, backing away from the rail.

"I'll see you on the 'morrow, then, Lord Ruistaan." The Hunter trotted into the storm, back the way she'd come.

Lord Ruistaan turned back to the tavern as a pale man was being turned away by the owner. He brushed past, eager to dry off by the fire and then head back to his own house. His escort, the knight Fuvor, was toasting a wench and laughing uproariously as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

"We're leaving." Ruistaan gathered up his jacket and cloak, and the knight groaned as the wench got away and ran back into the kitchens.

[Arya Ravenwing]

"M'lord..." the owner of the establishment joined Ruistaan at the fire. "There's ...another traveler 'ere. I knows you ain't usually here, and these were 'special circumstances' and sech, but he's demanding to see you. 'Parlee with the local lord,' sez he." The Happy Dragon's proprietor shifted his feet as the taller Ruistaan looked down on him.

"Well, seein' as you're here, I wondered if you wanted to bother with 'im. Looks like a scholar. Mebbe from Galing. Y'know. Intellectual." He used the word like it was an insult, and then caught sight of the five elves who were getting up from their table. He spat on the ground as they walked away. "Good riddance."

Ruistaan watched the elves duck through the doorway, past an emaciated stranger who was clutching a brace of books. The elven folk were just passing through. Almost as rare as wolves. His brown eyes glittered for a moment in the firelight, and then he turned his attention back to the shuffling man in front of him. "Very well, Hander, I will speak to him. But do hurry it up, I don't intend to spend my entire night here."

"Right you are, sah! Your drinks were, o' course, on th' house." Hander hurried to the thin man, and was soon approaching Ruistaan with the scholar in tow. Fuvor stood up, and was a little disconcerted to find he was nose to nose with the newcomer. He liked to loom over people. The knight moved to stand to the right and behind his lord.