He nudged the body of the larger of the pair with his foot to roll him onto his back. The body had a large gash across the cheek and the jaw was barely attached to the head, holding on with only a few strands of a tendon. Several other stab wounds were all over the man's body. By now they were dark, sweet-smelling, and covered with maggots. What was a light-brown linen tunic was now a dark brown burial shroud.

Fang noticed the other traveler had wounds in his back. By his count, it was at least ten. He nudged the body of the other man over, noticing a similar collection of wounds across the chest and belly. Whoever had killed the men was particularly ruthless with their strikes, and likely the men had died before they had hit the ground. There were no signs of a struggle beyond at least two assailants ambushing the travelers.

He sniffed at the surroundings for the scent of iron, but there was no sword or blade in sight. There were no signs of the travelers even having weapons of their own, either. But, what was apparent was that the smell of iron was present and growing closer. Too close.

The rattling of bones from behind him gave Fang enough warning to dodge a dagger that swiped at his rib cage that was clad in a leather vest. Fang whirled around and bent low. Had he not moved in time his little armor would not have spared him from a nasty gouge just between his ribs.

His attacker was a skeleton, wearing rotten leather and wielding a simple, rusted dagger. The skeleton had nearly lost its balance from the exaggerated swing it had taken at the werewolf, but it recovered and took another lunge at Fang, who took a step back, dodging the second attack. Fang's chains rattled with the dodge, and he felt several links pinch at the fur on his shoulder. There was no time to dwell on the discomfort, though, as the sound of more rattling behind him gave Fang another warning. He threw his entire body to the ground to his left, landing hard on his arm. The knife of the second skeleton tore at his cloak on the way down but did not get caught in the heavy wool.

Fang scrambled to his feet, agile despite his massive weight. His claws dug deep into the soil and he pulled his body forward enough to put distance between himself and his attackers. He rose to his feet, but kept his form low, his head tilted down and muzzle twisted into a full snarl.

He had not smelled the skeletons.

The scent of the travelers' bodies was so strong that he could not smell the little rotting flesh that remained in between the joints of the walking bones. He had picked off enough animal carcasses to know that flesh could be found between the joints in his more lean-times.

Was it a trap set for him by the skeletons? He was used to being hunted by those who believed him capable of the crimes of his kin. Though, whatever fiendish intentions he projected onto mindless bones were more than likely just his frustration in himself being caught off guard.

But, it did not matter.

He straightened his posture and towered over the attackers.

"If it is a fight you want, monsters, then I am happy to oblige" he roared.

He grabbed the handle of his broadsword with his right hand and unsheathed it from his back. The sword was incredibly heavy, even given his strength, and he grunted slightly as he adjusted the weight of the sword between his two clawed-hands. The tip of the sword hit the ground with a dull thud.

Having regrouped, the pair of skeletons continued their tandem approach toward him.

Fang smiled, baring sharp teeth and darkened gums. He had always wanted to fight a living skeleton. Now he had two. Sometimes the Gods were generous.

He let loose a deep-throated howl, preparing himself for the battle.

One skeleton, missing several teeth and wearing little but rotten trousers and boots, jabbed toward Fang with a rusty rondel. With a slight turn of his shoulder, Fang raised the broadsword and let the dagger glance off his larger blade. Then, taking a heaving breath, he swung the blade upward, shattering the upper ribs and shoulder of the skeleton. Shards of bone splintered from the impact as the blade sliced clean through the remains of the torso and severed the column of bones that made up the neck. The skull and a few vertebrae flew into the air and landed harmlessly a few feet away. The rest of the reanimated body clattered to the ground, unable to keep the enchantment in place.

Fang was still in mid-swing as the second skeleton, unfazed by his comrade's shattering, took an overhand swipe toward Fang's stomach. He moved quickly, immediately letting the momentum of his massive swing send him tumbling to the leaf-strewn ground. The dagger did not catch flesh, but it hit the cloak and pinned it to the ground, but Fang's weight was so great that his tumble simply split part of the cloak from the dagger's point. The momentum continued to drive him forward, and the sword swing continued its deadly arc as it sailed behind the body of the falling werewolf who still had it gripped with one of his massive hands.

The skeleton's bones ground together as it reached for the knife buried in the earth. On his back, Fang saw the skeleton fumbling for the knife with bony fingers and he kicked at the skeleton with his powerful legs, popping the various bones of the Skeleton's nearest leg several feet away and sending the whole creature clattering into a pile on the ground. Fang propped himself up with his sword and rose to his feet. The bones of the skeleton were still rattling and in a state of undeath, but the wretch was in no shape to continue the fight, unable to pull itself back together.

Fang gave a small, rasping laugh, and crushed the remains of the fallen warrior with the flat side of his broadsword. The skull crumbled and the bones ceased to move any more.

The skeleton had not been as intimidating as other warriors had indicated, and Fang felt underwhelmed. He realized now that it was not a real ambush. He had been sloppy. The skeletons were mindless and had no mind for tactics. His senses were like muscles, and he had not been honing them as much as he should have.

He sighed and returned to the corpses of the travelers. He looked them over, but then crouched down over them to rifle through their pockets and pouches, finding little except a couple of copper coins between them. He took the coins and placed them into his belt-pouch. The money would serve them no good, but at least he could use it provided someone was friendly enough to accept it from him.

The scent of burning wood was growing stronger now and the darkening sky meant that he was near a town or village. The amount of burning wood implied several hearths were nearby. Fang looked back down at the corpses and considered carrying them to the town, but he did not feel like picking maggots from his fur later. Making a good impression on the settlement would be hard enough given his tremendous, furred form. Being a louse-ridden beast would make it far more of a challenge to find lodging. Being a louse-ridden beast carrying the bodies of two dead men would likely get him attacked.

Yet, he could not let the remains of the travelers just rot in the woods. He had left too many unburied in Triseria for at least two lifetimes.

He sighed and looked toward the splintered remains of the skeletons. He grabbed one of the daggers and began to dig a shallow grave. The dagger would loosen up the dirt a great deal, enough to save his claws from too much intensive-digging. The town would need to wait.

About a half an hour later he had buried the travelers and marked each grave with a dagger stuck into the earth, just over the heads of the dead men. Fang's great strength had made short work of the digging, and the scent of the earth was helpful in masking the rot that had begun to make him feel ill after such a great deal of exposure to their source. He tried to lay the bodies below the soil with as much care as he could muster.

His nobility had, again, gotten the better of him, and he took the remains of the two skeletons and placed them into piles near a tree. He tried his best to keep the splintered bones separated into the two, distinct beings. Though they had nearly tried to kill him, they, too, were once human. Just as he had once been.

Necromancy had ripped their bodies from the grave and set them loose upon the world. They, too, had been cursed. The thrill of battle, now, was long gone, and all that remained was a bitter realization of his own monstrosity.

At least he still had his own, strong mind. In that he was lucky.

Fang stood before the makeshift graves. "Rest well, travelers," he said.

He traced his own scent that he had left near the road. He was thankful for his instincts as the sky had now darkened so much that he had nearly stumbled over the road and into the woods on the opposite side. He peered further down, detecting what were likely the lights of a settlement. He would explain his findings to the villagers when he arrived. Chances are, the two men he had buried were from there.

About twenty feet further down the road, in the dim evening light, he made out a sign pointing to the town ahead.

Gordhurst.

Fang pushed on to Gordhurst.