Fides in Culpa
Chapter Seven: Incensed and Murtlap
Thunderous paws against the grass in the moonlight, a pack of seven werewolves huffing heavily with a cacophony of growls and snarls. One led the Pack, its mane a light shade of gray, burly and more ferocious looking than the rest of them; its face was painted with flecks of blood along its yellowed teeth, its claws digging harshly into the mud at it led its followers away from the screaming town behind them. Its mate trailed closely at the heels: the Beta, darker in fur, though not entirely made of muscle as her mate, snarls louder than her leader. Her tail flicks with agitation as she bounds after him, keeping up with his veracity, hoofing it to keep her stamina.
The five that follow are smaller in size, nipping at each other, bounding after the first two. It is when the Pack comes to a clearing, safe enough from the forming mob in the closest town, that all seven werewolves transform from four legs stomping into the mud to two, coming to a halt.
Rita furiously slapped Greyback across the face. Greyback, finally returned to his human form half-way through the slap, uttered an angry snarl; he didn't hesitate to hit her, and with the full force behind his brute strength, he sent Rita reeling, doubling her over. She grunted, and despite the blood dribbling down her lower lip, she shoved her face in his, coming within inches:
"What did I say?!" Rita roared.
"This is my pack—!" Greyback fired back,
"UNDER THE DARK LORD'S ORDERS!" Rita screamed, her voice harsh and suffering from her heavy breathing. Footsteps approached from behind her, and she withdrew her wand, pointing it threateningly at the approaching Pack. "Don't you move. Don't move, I say…" She doubled down, despite her threat, trying to catch her breath.
Greyback shook his head. Pathetic. Rita's Animagus Form was just that; a form, not a real werewolf. She couldn't pack the speed and stamina that her cohorts had as their true nature was more superior than her shape-shifting abilities; and she suffered for it with a few bruises and a couple of lacerations that she had received while trying to escape a rural town that had been an occupation of Wizardkind, not Muggles as Greyback had suspected. She straightened her back, wincing from pain, and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her robe.
"You led us into an ambush…" Rita said breathlessly.
Before Greyback could answer, one of the males behind her stepped forward, "But the last I heard, it had all been Muggles."
Rita turned to look at him. She lowered her wand. "Yes, but…Clearly, there are some who believe the Dark Lord has returned; and they have taken it seriously. We all should have known better."
Feeling a searing pain, Rita ignored Greyback's smirk, for it seemed that she—aside from them all being exposed—had been hurt the worst. She ripped her sleeve to find a gash across her shoulder. Greyback made a step toward her, she dismissed him with revulsion,
"Don't touch me. I'm angry with you right now; I won't feel bad for cursing you."
The Pack whom had mentioned the town removed his wand from his jean pocket, and said in a small voice, "I can help you…"
"I don't need your help." Rita snapped at him.
"You really haven't changed, have you?" Greyback's words spoken casually as if not all have been lost a few miles back aggravated her.
Rita looked at him, "We're supposed to be recruiting for Death Eaters, Greyback. And instead, all we've found in the last two weeks are two towns that have been littered with Wizards; and I said I wouldn't take over command. But you won't wait for my say-so. You just trample into the grounds as if they haven't put up some kind of defense: enchantments, safeguards—Fucking guns," Rita hissed as she lowered herself to the ground, feeling the burning white hot in her leg and she uttered a painfully angry sound as she observed her calf muscle.
A Muggle had fired a silver bullet; and it had merely grazed her, but it didn't hurt any less. She glanced up at her cohorts. They had all been wounded in their own way, suffering some bleeding and bruising. She shot Greyback an annoyed look, "We're too impulsive. Gotta…Mm…" she placed the tip of her wand against her leg. "Episkey—Fu—" The graze from the bullet healed, her skin latching together suddenly that Rita uttered a string of swear words.
Rita aimed her wand at the five younglings, giving each in turn of the healing incantation; the Muggle cubs uttered pained and surprised cries. The Wizard cubs took it better, grunting as what small injuries that they had suffered patched up and the blood disappeared from their faces and hands. Rita gave Greyback a cold look, for he hadn't tried to heal his Pack the moment that they had stopped.
"They take care of themselves," said Greyback with a toothy grin.
"Sure." Rita whispered.
She turned her attention to the gash on her arm. It hadn't been caused by a Muggle weapon. A Wizard had sent a Dark spell in her direction, slashing her. It oozed blood, and it couldn't be fixed so easily by an incantation. Rita suddenly felt homesick, missing Severus; he'd have something on hand to give her. Magic leaves traces. It would scar.
"OI!" One of Pack called out, and it turned the attention of the rest of them toward the tree line. A flash of light—
"What?! What do you see!?"
"What, mate?! Where is it? Who—?"
"Shut up, mate, it's right there! An Animagus!"
"Nah, man, it's a weird rat, mate! Got something on its back! Kill it!"
Greyback aimed his wand at a scurrying creature, Rita jumped to her feet, recognizing it—she shoved Greyback's wand in the other direction just as a flash of green light expelled from it—
"Don't kill it!" Rita snapped at him.
Greyback turned to her, "Are you going to bark orders at me all night long? It's my—"
Rita aimed her wand at the creature and said softly, "Imperio."
The creature in sighting was a rat-like creature with a growth on its back resembling a sea anemone. It had panicked and tried to avoid the new inhabitants of its ecosystem. However, after years of living and working beside a Potions Master, Rita identified Snape's description of a Murtlap. A curious little thing, Rita had found a stroke of good luck in finding a creature with such a valuable ingredient on its back.
Under Rita's Unforgiveable Curse, the Murtlap squeaked and gently made its way toward her feet. On its back, its tentacles wiggled freely, and showed its bucked teeth at her as it stood on its hind legs. She lowered herself to the rat, and held out her hand out for it to crawl into her palm. Very soft, its tiny toes. A little bigger than her hand.
"What is it?" asked one of the Muggle cubs, staring at it in both fascination and horror.
"Murtlap." Rita answered him without looking in his direction. "Water creature. There might be a pond or lake nearby. If one is lucky enough to find one, its tentacles can be harvested for healing properties." She glanced at the Dark wound on her shoulder. "And if one eats it, it can help resist against hexes and curses."
"We're supposed to be recruiting werewolves; and now you're collecting beasts," said Greyback coldly.
"A distinction without a difference," Rita said, casting a nasty smirk in his direction. She gazed down at the Murtlap, who was staring at her in a blank expression. "Hello, my lovely…"
Rita took two fingers and lightly pulled a tentacle.
"Doesn't that hurt it?" asked a Muggle cub.
"One won't. A few will." Rita said softly. "Of course, you wouldn't want to eat all of them anyway. One of the side effects of eating too much is 'flames out of the anus."
The Muggle cub stared at her bewildered.
"My husband has a knack for telling me things while he's brewing potions at his job," continued Rita with a genuine smile. "More out of boredom than trivial pursuits. I have a tendency to listen every now and again."
She flicked her wand and released the poor creature from her spell; it squealed and scurried back the way it came. Rita glanced down at her gash from her arm, and smiled as the pain slowly ebbed away; and while the gash didn't heal as properly as she had hoped, it was considerably less horrific. Rita was no healer; and she certainly wasn't a potion maker—two things that Rita hadn't ever tried to perfect while she had been at Hogwarts. But Severus could at least give some sort of confidence that she took in some of the things that he said during their little talks.
"When we come to the next town," said Rita calmly, "you are to use your magical abilities as a threat. An empty one."
"I said I didn't need a tail—"
"Bounding through the fucking town as feral monsters will not work," said Rita.
"I know how to do my job."
Rita frowned at him, but uttered an empty chuckle. "The Dark Lord expects results. I'll let him know how you're progressing—"
"—You do that—"
"I will," said Rita, holding up a finger. "And if He discovers that you've killed Pureblood Wizards before offering them a chance to join His side, I can guarantee He will be furious with you. But that will not rest on me, I have already informed you of what He expects. And I've seen what you've been doing, so expect me to be there when He, in his very own way, tells you how disappointed He is."
Rita lifted her neck to show Greyback and the rest of the Pack the evidence of the Dark Lord's Disappointment. She turned to the Pack, "Good luck. Welcome to the Uprising."
And with that, she Disapparated.