“So that’s the Werwulf Trials.” Carmine murmured by his side. Klerien glanced behind, at the horizon where the sun created a halo of red and orange as it set. The shadows of evergreen peeked above the roofs of various houses. Around them, the crowd already dispersed, yet some remained.

“Hemlock, a town of endless winter…” He listened as she trailed off. The plaza ground’s cracks and crevices had dried blood that seeped in. The platform stood and the bodies had yet to be removed. Those who remained scrubbed and cleaned the spilled blood. “A town littered in secrets. I can’t believe how those rumors from five years ago drove this.”

“Mikael Berthelemy with two other men, accused and persecuted for practicing Sabbath.” He added. “Confessing in committing cannibalism, and love for blood and flesh.”

“In France, they immediately disregarded and passed it as men with problems in their heads. Do you know how it spread until Hemlock?”

“To protect his sheep from the wolves, he confessed about making a deal with cloaked men in exchange for his faith in God. Ingesting elixir that gave him power and strength that rivals wolves allowed him to protect what he loved. Rumours claimed that Satan walked the earth and, one day, he would give the chosen humans power that was greater than a ferocious animal. With the help of Satan, they could transform into wolves.” Klerien said. “Hemlock is a sheltered and religious town. Werwulf is a word that anyone avoids and fears. It was easier to accept baseless rumours than to succumb to their fear of the unknown.”

“Fine. I’ll first find an inn, then I’ll accomplish your order, first.” She waved the pouch dangling on his fingers. A scene of murder and society’s restraints painted behind her. “Where are you heading after this?”

“I don’t think that the people are in the mood of buying from a foreign merchant. I’ll go and visit some graves.” He murmured watching the blood being wiped from the ground. Like desperate men scrubbing off the evidence of their madness. In his eyes, it seemed like turning a blind eye from their actions and live like nothing happened on the morrow.

The clouds of grey and dark morphed into a sea of red lumps. Fitting for the flowing rose blood that flooded the plaza grounds. He strolled around the small town. His wolf would stay in the caravan until dusk, he trusted. Eyes wandering underneath his hood, hearing the chatters and murmurs. The smell of porridge and bread drifted by his nose as household had dinner.

“Move it.” A rough voice, out of breath, disrupted his thoughts. He stumbled forwards as a hand pushed him from behind. The man ran like a mad man, cloak flapping and long blond hair weaving through the cold winter breeze. Klerien frowned, hands on his shoulder, turning around.

“Aaaaahhhh!!!” A high-pitched shrill scream of a woman alarmed his senses. With his heart pounding against his ribcage, his pulse quickened. A surge of strength creeped from his core. He ran, turning from alleys into corners, trusting his hearing. As the terrified whimpers went closer, Klerien skidded to a stop. His eyes bulged out of its sockets, seeing the scene before him.

He froze. Klerien wanted to take a step forward but his subconscious would not let him. He glanced towards the female crawling away from the bodies, trembling and frantically weeping. Beside her feet, an empty weaved basket laid. Cherries rolled on the ground. A pair of bread quickly turning frigid as the cold seeped in. Tinges of orange reflected on the shiny surface of a pool fresh blood.

Klerien scanned the mixture of mud and blood on the ground, finding a mutilated cadaver. Muscles were torn to shreds. The man laid on a pool of dark red blood that’s soaking through the ground. His stomach, wide open, exposing his intestines, liver and bile, and ribs. The gruesome sight mirrored earlier’s scene

“What… happened?” His voice didn’t reveal anything. At the same time, the woman’s head snapped at his stiff form. He noticed the woman’s expression. Her line of sight stretched further behind him. Wincing, he recognized the familiar woman as the lady that once sold fabrics to his mother. The woman could wait, he decided, before slowly turning around.

His chest jolted at the sight. Another man laid unconscious in a similar pool of blood. The rising of his chest indicated his breathing. Klerien leaned closer the unconscious and bare-chested man, realizing unusual features. The man was covered with thick red hair and with a large physique.

Appropriate words seemed to evade his head. Furthermore, he noticed the way the man’s skin glistened under the moonlight like oil was applied over his skin. Klerien shuffled towards the man. The pads of his finger felt warmth coming from the man’s bare skin. He flinched.

“He’s so…”

“Werwulf!” The same woman shrieked.

“No. They do not exist.” He said. The street darkened as the sun disappeared under the horizon. He saw the terrified woman along with the yellow shadows of light coming from the corner.

“A beast isn’t the cause of my misfortune and suffering but a living human. Werwulfs never existed. Humans would always see what their minds want them to see.” He tsked as the woman cried again in a deafening tone. Certainly, the whole town heard her voice.

“Scheiße!” Klerien cursed. Voices and heavy, hurried footsteps approached because of the woman’s loud screams that pierced the silence of the night.

Crouching, he grabbed the man’s arms. For now, he should hide. It was a risk, but he had to take the bare-chested man. At the least, he had a live witness. If the townspeople had a hand, they would throw him in a trial without listening to reason. He gritted his teeth as he lifted the weight of the man. Klerien groaned, his body shouldered the heavy dead weight.

It felt as if he’s being enveloped by a subtle burning fire. The man’s skin, undoubtedly hot, seemed like he’s burning with fever. As he took a step, the man groaned beside his ear. Klerien shuddered. A deep voice rolled from the bloody man’s throat, reminded him of his wolf’s growls.

Klerien dragged the man from the scene, with the man’s right arm draped on his shoulders and his left arm tightly grasping and supporting the man’s torso. Their figures vanished into the forest while the sound of frantic villagers drowned any noise coming from their escape.