Bright blue light illuminated the woods.
Shadows stretched everywhere, trees full of leaves, and bustling rodents burrowing about. Howls echoed every once in a while, and upon getting at least half a mile from the village, the beasts fell silent.
Arrow nocked, Al scanned the woods. Like a bird overlooking its prey, she was sharp, fierce, and communicated with him via blinks.
One blink for nothing. Two for movement.
Sword up, real metal making his pecker hard, he prayed for them.
Not out of mercy, but he wanted them, as many as possible. Rotten mangy cunts, a pack of dogs on two legs who bested him only after he'd retrieved a proper weapon. He wondered what it would be to cut into them.
They arrive at the caves entrance.
Nothing reeked nor growled from inside.
"Where the fuck are you?" He wondered.
Al held up a finger.
'We want them here you clutz!' He rambled in thought.
A wave of his hand, signaling her not to be so worried, and she frowned.
She raised a middle finger, and were he not so fond of her mouthy spirit, he'd clout her teeth in.
One step into the cave, torch in one hand, sword in the other, and growls rumbled outside.
"Bastards!" He snapped, facing the darkness while trying to keep an eye out behind himself.
"I've got the entrance," Al said, nocking another arrow. "We'll hold them here."
"Will you now?" A deep voice taunted, shaking their bones. "Meat sacks!"
Yellow eyes beamed from the shadows above.
It dove, a werewolf with a silver coat.
Claws like daggers, long without a curve, it scratched off Al's face. She spun before dropping into the dirt, her bloody skull cracked with an eyeball hanging out.
He screamed, swinging his torch, then thrusting.
The werewolf backed away, then took iron through its thigh. It wailed, scurrying back, dozens more werewolves surrounding him. Not as large as the silver alpha, they were more like bears, long coats down to their feet. A hunched back, they were all muscle and power, and he stepped away from a few swipes. He parried, ducked, then swung his torch. A few bests backed away, but others didn't.
Claws grazed him helm, the werewolf roaring with steam. He stabbed it's belly, cutting through meat like butter. Upon pulling back his blade, he swung again, but the beasts piled on him.
Within the cave's entrance, his armor was stripped. His throat was gnawed on, to the point he blacked out. Then his belly was ravaged, guts flying in the darkness.
"Soulless meat, the only kind to…," the alpha snorted, just before silence.
Death, once more, became a blessing rather than a curse.
He saw it all, the white walls, what he decided was his home. Then everything else, and he wondered what kept him from running out and facing those dragons. The firebombs were impressive, but was there nothing he could've done, between himself and the dozens others?
Light beamed, and there was no time to dwell on old dreams.
Leon greeted them, leaning in the doorway. "Long night?"
He nodded.
"Very well," Leon said, tossing them practice swords. "Take it as a lesson. How do you feel?"
He shook his head. "Not good enough."
A spring in his step, he led the trio into the field.
Wide eyed, and a small grin, Leon took a high stance. They sparred all morning, and he tried to keep up. Faster than any point before, Leon was like a burst of wind. One moment blade down, unsuspecting, then a dash. A spin, stab, or swat to the head, there was still a gap between their speed.
He believed he'd never close it, and as Al sparred with Leon, he practiced movements alone.
Leon let him keep practicing, for hours on end until lunch. Then they lifted logs, dragged the sled, cut down trees, all until his muscles were so sore he couldn't stand. Leon left them in the field after dusk, and they readied their gear for the night.
"Silver'll be in the trees," Al said, arrow nocked while looking up.
A full moon once more, howls echoed.
"Watch the shadows," he whispered, lighting his torch. "We'll stay clear of the caves.
Yet as the night went on, nothing appeared.
Howls stopped, save winds form the summit, and they leaned against a tree. Al kept alert, bow still nocked, and he considered one of them make for the caves.
"Stay a hundred paces back," he suggested, "then on my signal, start loosing."
"He could be watching us right now for all we know," Al muttered.
"Aye," he agreed, looking at swaying branches, "but he knows he can't fight us alone."
"Right," Al said, stroking her chin. "Stay in the cave's entrance."
"What? You mean for me to be swallowed on both sides?"
"Keep them all in once place," she said, taking his torch. "Then give your signal."
She was on to something, and he figured it best not to know.
Whatever it was, he wanted to be as unprepared as Silvercoat. If he could bait the bastard into thinking he were mad, then they'd both be as surprised to whatever devilry Al was plotting.
She hurried off into the woods, then whistled.
Were Silver to go for her first, it'd be for naught, but there was little reason to believe he would.
Something was sacred about those caves, like many things in the soulless lands.
The entrance was in his sight, a void where he once found his favored killing tool. Growls echoed in the night, his heart raced, and he readied his sword in one hand, hammer in the other. Their eyes appeared first, werewolves on all sides, some beyond the caves entrance.
'Shit!'
In full stride he wasn't quick enough.
The beasts surrounded him, and he swung to either side of himself.
"Dog fucking worms!" He shouted, swinging mad as foul hot breath engulfed him. "Incoming! Incoming!"
Smoke filled the air.
On all branches, a tree opposite the caves entrance, fire spread upon a great oak. Al leaped and swung across branches, spreading fire. She nocked two arrows, let flames kiss them, then loosed.
Two landed within a werewolf apiece, one in the belly, the other between the eyes. She loosed more, almost a dozen fire arrows raining down.
Many werewolves scattered about, though a handful snarled at him. Their claws came from all directions. He thrusted through one, bashed another's knees, then took paws to the belly. Tossed on his back, he crossed his arms, the beasts trying to strip him. Ignited arrows plunged through them, and all but one wailed scurrying away.
He recovered his blade, and sliced open the beast's face. Blood ran from its jaws, and he sliced again, severing its head off.
A deep roar shook the ground.
Silvercoat rallied the pack, and waves of claws and darkness swarmed him.
Atop the branches, Al fled from Silver, leaping from one oak to another. Silver dove over her, landing within arm's reach. She let herself fall, but Silver plunged into her, crashing to the ground before mauling her.
Fire roared within the night.
Firebombs erupted in his thoughts, and he felt to be drowning in ash until morning.