New Year, new chapter :)
Chapter 26
-oOo-
Both Hunters chose to abandon their duffels, depositing them inside the tent and opting instead to carry their chosen weapons and equipment about their person. Given the terrain and how jungle-like some parts of mature forests get, a kit bag slung from one shoulder or hanging at their backs had the potential to become an unwanted restriction on their mobility or movements. Confronting their target while tangled up on a tree branch by a snagged strap had very little to recommend it. Despite how werewolves appeared, heavy set, ungainly, ponderous looking and unlikely to possess much in the way of speed or stamina; the truth of the beasts was very different. Swift and silent when necessary, they could leap, twist and turn like an Olympic gymnast and, unlike either dogs or nature's true wolves, the creatures' hybrid paws/hands meant they had some ability to grip and climb. The sheer strength the monsters were endowed with meant that close combat was a seriously dangerous endeavour best avoided if at all possible, even given the physical strength, experience and well honed fighting skills of the Winchesters. Whenever Hunter and werewolf did get close up and personal, those Hunters lucky enough to survive the encounter generally did so through a combination of their wits plus a large amount of good luck.
Projectile weapons that allowed for a distance kill made a gun loaded up with silver bullets along with a couple of spare clips the go to weapon of choice for Sam and Dean. As emergency backup they each carried a silver dagger at their side, tucked through the belt of their denims. A flask of oil and a bottle of holy water were safely tucked into their inside jacket pocket and flash-lights were fitted with fresh batteries. Dean flicked his Zippo a couple of times, making certain it flared into life before slipping it into a back pocket on his denims and both men checked their cells for a signal. Dean's gaze went to his brother's neck.
"You still wearin' your man jewellery?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Wouldn't be seen without it. Ok Sam...How d'you wanna play things from here?"
Surprised at being handed the decision, Sam gazed around the clearing thoughtfully before verbalising his thinking for his waiting brother.
"Well...We know the werewolf's been here so it's definitely got our scent. If it had a good sniff around it'll also know we stuck to this area. The only trail we left was the one where we came an' went. Same route we used tonight, right?"
"Right."
"And, assumin' our target sticks to the forest again instead of takin' a stroll into town, it's a reasonable bet it's gonna swing by an' check out this spot again tonight, yeah?"
"So you're sayin' we should hang out here all night...Again?"
Dean's voice was even but Sam could see the lack of enthusiasm in his brother's eyes. Dean didn't do staying in one spot very well, he was always happier being on the move but, having given the decision making over to his younger brother, Sam knew that Dean would go with whichever way he decided to play it, however reluctantly. Holding back the urge to smile, Sam shrugged his shoulders.
"The way I see it? Hangin' round here an' lettin' it come for us is gonna save us a whole lotta legwork, don't you think?"
The level of disappointment that blossomed on the older Hunter's face was so profound that in the end Sam couldn't stop himself from grinning.
"Dude, you can lose the glum face, I'm not gonna suggest we just wait the critter out. If it comes it'll be quiet, careful, wantin' to check us out out before it attacks so, instead? Our first move should be to split up and head into the trees round about to look for any signs that'll tell us what direction it came from an' if it left the same way, or by different route. My guess is that it'll probably use the same routes again so, if we can pin-point the thing's path an' follow it, there's a good chance we'll get the jump on the it. Hell, even if we don't pick up on a trail? Tonight, big brother, I say it's us doin' the huntin'! We search, find and kill. That work for you?"
Gun in hand and ready for action, Dean winked at his brother,
"That's my kinda plan Sammy. How about we give it half an hour lookin' for tracks or a trail? If that's a bust we rendezvous back here an' agree our next move?"
"Sounds good. I'll take this side, you go that way. If you find anythin' give me head's up an' I'll do the same. "
The stag was tiring, in it's chest it's heart stuttered in sheer terror, spittle flew from it's lips as it pushed itself to it's limit but, no matter what manoeuvrers the desperate animal tried in it's attempts to evade it's tormentor, the predator remained relentless in it's pursuit; sometimes giving chase on all fours, sometimes on two legs, changing back and forth to suit the terrain. A number of times the werewolf had come well within striking distance, and each time the unnatural beast had chosen to slow down, holding itself back and intentionally delaying the kill, thrilled by the hunt itself, revelling in it's own extraordinary strength and speed. Eventually though, having placed too much strain on it's heart and lungs the stag suddenly began to slow. Shaking and stumbling, the animals delicate heart finally began to fail under the relentless pressure and stress. Recognising what was happening the werewolf instantly increased it's speed. It swiftly began closing in to deliver the coup de grĂ¢ce, determined to bring it's prey down while it still lived; to tear open it's chest and glory in the sensation of the doomed animal's warm blood pulsating down it's throat in time to the final beats of the stag's heart. Already salivating in anticipation, it's timing faultless, the monster launched itself into the air, crashing down onto the stag's back, the sheer weight and bulk of the werewolf forcing the panic-stricken animal to the ground. In it's hybrid human-monster form there was no refinement in a werewolf''s attack, it slaughtered it's victims with nothing less than savage, blood-soaked glee. Clawed fingers dug and tore through flesh and muscle, bones were snapped and shattered, internal organs were ripped out and then hungrily devoured with grunting, slurping ecstasy.
Frowning, Dean stooped down low, giving the ground in front of him a closer inspection, not wholly certain whether the indents he was seeing in the mix of mud and fallen pine needles were merely a feature of the terrain, or whether they represented something more sinister? His brother's voice interrupted his inspection.
"Dean? Over here. I've got somethin'."
Straightening up and with a last glance at the scuffed depressions on the ground, Dean moved back out of the tree line into the clearing and jogged across to where Sam stood waiting.
"Show me."
Elsewhere within the forest and with still only one unsatisfactory kill under it's belt, a werewolf angrily strode through the forest at random on two legs, frustrated and bored in equal measure. Pausing, the creature glared around at it's immediate surroundings in disgust, feeling hemmed in, confined. Tonight, the hundreds of acres of wilderness weren't giving the supernatural being the sensations of space, opportunity and freedom it craved. Instead the forest felt over-rated, over-familiar and over-hunted. Tonight the monster desired more, something extra, something special. Dropping onto all fours, the werewolf moved off quickly and with a reinvigorated sense of purpose, thick yellow tinged strings of anticipatory saliva already forming and hanging from the corners of it's wide, foul stinking mouth.
Dean followed close behind while Sam made his way through a gap between two spiky leaved shrubs. Dean could see for himself that the gap had been created by something having pushed it's way into the clearing. Sam stopped four or five yards back from the clearings edge.
"Right here...See that?"
Sam shone the light of his torch downwards, illuminating a defined hollow where something sizeable appeared to have rested, compressing the low growing flora and fallen foliage under the weight of it's body.
"Yeah, I see it."
"That's not all; look there."
"Woah! Who's got the clowns feet?"
Dean grinned at his brother's instant scowl.
"I just meant that's a big footprint, right? Like somebody's been stompin' round in gigantic flat shoes, you know, like clowns wear."
"Fine, I geddit, enough now ok?"
Placing his own foot alongside the imprint, Dean hiked one eyebrow at how much smaller his booted foot looked in comparison.
"Well, seems to me either Big Foot lives in these parts, or our friendly neighbourhood werewolf definitely dropped by here at some point...Hey Sam? Do me a favour?"
"Like what?"
Leading Sam back into the clearing, Dean used the beam of his torch as a pointer, identifying the area he'd been looking in before Sam called him over.
"Through there, couple of yards in, think I might've spotted more footprints."
Sam looked at where Dean was indicating.
"Can you take a look, see what you think? You're better at this tracking thing than me."
Turning, Sam looked questioningly at Dean.
"Sorry? Take a look to see what I think an' what?"
"I said, you're better at track..."
Dean stopped mid-sentence, noticing Sam's growing look of amusement.
"Oh, ha ha, Sammy. You're real funny!"
Sam grinned,
"You noticed that, huh?"
-oOo-
Chick xxxxx
