4: Tooth and Claw
In the morning Mutt awoke with the sun and set about brewing coffee and burying the bones from the previous night's dinner. She hummed softly to herself as she did so, as if attempting to soothe herself, squinting at the sunrise and keeping her hands busy and moving. She paid no attention to the still bodies around her until one addressed her.
"Gutentag," said Johann.
The girl jumped about a foot in the air and spun around, lips twisted in a snarl.
"I apologize. I seem to startle people quite often. You appear tense, yes?"
Mutt relaxed slightly and ran a trembling hand through her dirty hair. "Um. A little. We're getting really close. I can smell it."
"Are you afraid? Of this creature who killed your brethren?"
"Not afraid, really. Excited. I mean, kill or be killed, that's the way things work, right? Besides," she paused, laughed nervously, "This is my chance to be useful for once."
"You want to be useful?" said Abe, rising from the ground. He looked wan and irritable, as if he hadn't slept well. "Then come on, Mutt. Let's find this thing."
The B.P.R.D. continued to follow the werewolf through the woods. She was obviously tightly wound, at times forgetting that she had a group of people following her and disappearing for minutes at a time before returning sheepishly to find them. The woods were obviously thinning as they climbed higher, the gaps between the trees growing progressively larger. They could see a barren mountain face about a half a mile ahead of them when Mutt froze. She stood stiff and trembling, like a dog scenting a pheasant. A low whine rose involuntarily from her throat.
Something horrible was loping through the sparse trees ahead of them. It stood about fifteen feet tall and resembled some sort of horrible, albino cross between a polar bear and a giant ape. It was completely covered in thick, shaggy white fur, so much so that its actual frame was hard to distinguish. It walked on two legs, but the huge, viciously clawed paws on the ends of its long, furry arms hung almost to the ground. The fur around its yellowed claws was stained pink with old thing turned and stared at them.
The monster's face was the only part of its body not covered in hair. Set into its pink skin were a wide, flat nose, far-set, beady red eyes, and a gaping slit of a mouth bristling with razor-sharp teeth.
"Sense anything, Johann?" asked Abe. He drew his gun and turned off the safety with a soft click.
The German shuddered. "There is… nothing. Just hunger. A terrible hunger."
Abe nodded, silently raised his gun, aimed, and fired. The retort of the shot echoed through the silent woods. A tiny spot of blood blossomed on the beast's white chest. Its slash of a mouth widened in rage, exposing rows upon rows of teeth.
"Damn fur," muttered Abe and fired off a few more rounds. The beast did not look particularly hurt. It just looked very, very angry. It turned and began to charge them, crashing through the smaller trees. It was slow, but quickly picking up momentum.
"It looks like snow. I bet it doesn't like fire," suggested Roger.
Liz raised her hands. Flames burst from nothing and engulfed her fists. "One yeti, extra crispy, coming right up," she said.
"No no no," yelped Mutt, shaking her shaggy head furiously. "Can't use fire here. It's been a dry summer, the whole forest would go up in flames. We just need to lure it out in the open."
"And how do you suggest we do that?" snapped Abe exasperatedly.
Her answer was a quick flash of movement and the sound of clothes tearing. "Oh," said Abe.
Mutt was nowhere to be seen. In her place, standing in the remains of her shredded clothes, was a large, rangy wolf creature. It looked as if a scruffy, oversized wolf had suddenly decided to walk on its hind legs. The creature stood close to nine feet tall with thick, unruly brown fur and glowing yellow eyes. The length of its dangling furry arms, ending in hand-like paws, suggested that it could lope on all fours if it wanted to. The creature had very poor posture, and stood in a distinct slouch.
Before anything could be said, the werewolf ran to meet the yeti's charge. As she drew closer to the beast, the initial impressiveness of Mutt's wolf form was marred by the fact that the white monster was still much, much larger than she was. She was a stray dog about to fight a polar bear. The kid didn't stand a chance.
The B.P.R.D. team watched imminent collision in horror. A hair-raising, whooping cackle rose from the yeti. It raised one great, terrible paw to strike…
And missed. The werewolf had run right past it. While the yeti was still trying to figure out what had just happened, the smaller creature turned and leaped agilely onto its back. She snarled and bit into the thick ruff of fur around the snow creature's neck.
The yeti wailed and swiped at the werewolf with an enormous clawed paw, knocking her clear of him. She crouched on the ground, frozen, tail trembling. The monster's claws had opened three enormous gashes in her lupine shoulder. Pale flashes of bone showed through the wound. Mutt coughed and spat out large hunks white fur.
The shaggy white creature paused for a moment. It looked at the wounded, antagonistic werewolf, then at the B.P.R.D. team. It turned back towards the easier meal and began to move towards the lycanthrope.
Mutt dropped to all fours and bolted with surprising speed in the opposite direction of the B.P.R.D., towards the edge of the treeline. The yeti roared and gave chase.
"She's just baiting it so that it will follow her to the slopes!" cried Liz, "Come on!" The pyrokinetic broke into a desperate run, Abe, Roger, and Johann following close behind.
A high-pitched, pained howl filtered through the trees.
"I think we should hurry," said Roger, "Mutt doesn't sound like she's doing too well."
When they finally burst through the trees onto the rolling, lichen-covered slope of the mountain, the werewolf was definitely the worse for wear. Outside of the trees, her agility was no longer much of an advantage, while the yeti now had plenty of room to utilize its brute strength and deadly claws. Blood matted parts of Mutt's dirty brown fur, and she visibly favored one leg as she attempted to dodge the monster's onslaught.
"Now, Liz!" yelled Abe.
"I can't! She's too close!" cried Liz in frustration, hands blazing.
"Sylvia!" called Johann, shooting a bolt of ectoplasmic light into the air to get the werewolf's attention, "If you can understand me, move out of the way!"
Mutt blinked her yeloow eyes. The yeti turned towards the B.P.R.D., squinting its beady red eyes at the source of the light and noise. While it's back was turned, the werewolf crawled, limping, behind a low-lying boulder and collapsed.
A familiar mantra began to play through Liz Sherman's head. The fire is not my enemy… It is a part of me… It is mine. Mine. The fire is not my enemy… Streams of fire poured from her hand, surged through the air and engulfed the yeti.
The monster shrieked as its fur blazed like dry kindling. It ran in faltering circles, flailing its long arms futilely, before collapsing in a charred heap on the ground. The acrid smell of burning hair and flesh drifted through the air. After a while, the fire died out. There was nothing left to burn.
The four agents walked over to the remains of the creature. Roger poked it experimentally with a toe, and the entire thing crumbled to ash. They stared at the smoking heap in awed silence.
"Shit," said Liz suddenly, "Mutt." She scrambled up the slope in the direction of the rock where the werewolf had last been seen. "Mutt," she called, "Mutt! Can you hear me? Are you all right?"
A familiar, sallow face peeked painfully over the top of the boulder, sporting a scabbed-over split lip and the fading remains of an enormous black eye.
"Excuse me," said Mutt, "Could someone please hand me a spare change of clothes?"
Author's note: I tend to think of werewolves as turning completely into a wolf, not a wolf-man. Trying to keep somewhat in line with The Wolves of St. August arc, though, the Oboroten werewolves have the classic pulp horror form.
Next week is the last chapter! Yay! Or boo! Whichever you prefer.
