"It's just a business trip, I'll be back soon." Lyall had said to his son before heading out months ago, travelling around in search of a single wolf. Seeking out any signs of werewolf activity he could find, but thus far had been unable to find Fenrir Greyback.
He'd taken a pause, arriving in the small town of Beacon Hills, waiting to catch wind of another lead. Perhaps one that would take him a step ahead. He'd grown tired of hitchhiking, of snaking on cheap junk food and lying restless each night.
I'm sorry Remus…I would come home, but I know that bastard's still out there, thought Lyall, sighing as he entered the woods. A place he'd slowly grown to enjoy, he felt oddly…connected to his son when surrounded by the trees. He was hoping that the comfort would help him sleep tonight…besides, he'd been booted from the motel and had nowhere else to go.
He hiked his way through the trees with a single backpack, one he'd lugged around everywhere he went. Passing thick trees and taking deep breaths of the nightly air that skimmed the branches.
It wasn't long into his hike that he noticed a sudden trail pick up, one of broken branches and moved dirt. Footprints that freshly lingered in the moist ground. Crouching down he took a closer look, taking a glance around for further signs. Cautiously following the footprints, he took out a pistol that had been warming his belt. He held it confidently in front of him, wary of his surroundings and placing each foot down with great care.
After a few minutes sounds of panting and whimpering filled the air, Lyall noticing the origins shortly after. A young boy, huddled in a small opening, cradling his arms and bare chest. Shivering violently…or was it from crying?
As he approached the boy jolted, sliding away in fear. Lyall paused, hesitating for a brief second before holding his hands up and putting the gun away.
"Easy kid." Lyall said, crouching down to the confusion of the boy. "I'm not the enemy here."
"You've got a gun? Aren't you going to kill me?" The boy screeched, though it was more a whispered screech, as if trying to avoid attract attention.
"It's for self-defence, so unless you jump me I don't think I'll shooting anyone." Lyall smirked, looking the almost naked boy up and down. He was pale, freckled, though it could have been the dirt. Curly blonde hair poking out in different directions, a few leaves and twigs nesting in the mess. He gathered a few scrapes and significant bruises, certainly something done by another.
"But the other people with guns, they were going to kill me…so I ran…" He whimpered, his tension settling around Lyall.
"Other people. They wanted to kill you?" Lyall muttered, looking the boy up and down again before quickly adding, "werewolf?"
"What?" He stuttered
"Relax, you're not the wolf I'm after. But I wouldn't stay here, chances are they're still around." Lyall said, biting his lips. "Head out of town, I'll distract them." He smiled, patting the kid on the shoulder before ushering him up and away. While the boy hesitated, he quickly started running, Lyall watched for a few seconds before attempting the cover most of the tracks.
He waited a few minutes before pulling gun again, pointing at a tree and firing, and firing another round just past the tree. He quickly lay on his back, waiting a few seconds before heaving himself to a sitting position.
As he did so, two other gun wielding people wandered over to him. He sighed before looking at them.
"What have we here?" The older man said to his young female companion. These were clearly the two hunters, wielding guns like deranged drunkards who clearly don't care for appearances or subtly. It often seems like a forgotten art.
"I wasn't expecting hunters around here." Lyall said, dusting his trousers as he got to his feet.
"A hunter?"
"Who else is going to carry a gun into the middle of a forest. Besides I would only have that guess seeing it was a strange looking teen that attacked me."
"You saw the werewolf?" The lady jumped in, a little too keen on the boy…especially considering neither had bothered to ask his health.
"Yeah, he fled. I barely got two shots off at him the fast bugger."
"Where are you from?"
"I'm travelling, from England. Clearly ran into a bad spot, though given the way you two are going it must be quite the bad spot."
"More like a warzone." The old man smirked.
"Wait." The lady interrupted, holding a finger up as if to shush the already silent men. "Over there…I think it's the wolf?" She whispered, moving swiftly behind a tree. Lyall paused, following her and seeing a wolf in the distance. A rather large one, bigger than most. It seemed to just be lingering in the distance, Ombre brown fur, thin and scarred by the looks of it. Something seemed familiar to Lyall, though he could quite figure out why, he knew this wolf was not the one from earlier.
"Put it down." The man muttered, his companion setting up a shot, waiting for the right angle. The wolf passed between a few trees and for a brief second looked towards them, Lyall saw it. The scars running its face were that of his son's. His heart skipped as the wolf simply stood looking off in the distance, this woman was about to shoot her son.
He had to act quickly, lifting his gun and firing it close to Remus, who flinched and pelted it. Within seconds he'd practically vanished and Lyall could tell while he'd be scared for a few days, he'd be alive for it at least.
"The hell was that?" The geezer hissed, pushing Lyall's shoulder, almost knocking him back.
"She was taking too long."
"I was waiting for a clear shot, thanks to you it got away."
"Well maybe it wasn't alone, wouldn't you think a werewolf would be a tad more careful if it was alone?" Lyall argued.
"You saying he was with a pack?" The man scoffed
"Sure, maybe he was, maybe he was new. Who knows."
"You need some rewiring my friend."
"My wires are fine."
"That wasn't a suggestion. You were travelling, right?"
"Were? I still-"
"Not anymore, I can whip you up into shape, you seem like you could be a good hunter. And that wolf will be your ultimate kill." Smirking and patting Lyall on the shoulder, the old geezer began walking away with his friend. He paused and turned back briefly.
"The name is Gerard, this here is Monroe." Gerard added, pausing, keen to hear Lyall's own name, and out of concern for his son's wellbeing simply replied,
"Lyall, Lyall Moony."