Chapter 27
-oOo-

Dean hung back in the clearing waiting for the younger Hunter's verdict. It didn't take long before Sam called out to him from within the tree line.
"Dean? You're right, they're not as obvious but I'd say you definitely found more footprints over here."
"That's awesome! Snoopy's left us a callin' card an' a heads up on which way to go to hunt him down. Maybe we should thank him before we gank him? Hey, you hear that Sammy? It rhymed."
Sam emerged from out of the trees brushing and pulling small twigs and pine needles out of his hair.
"Yeah, you should quit huntin' an' be a rap star...The ground feels rougher an' more uneven on your trail. If it carries on like that you'll have to be careful, any tracks or signs are gonna be much harder to spot."
Dean's hesitation was so brief that, still fussing with his hair, Sam didn't notice it.
"Well, here's the thing, I figured I'd take on the clown trail instead?"
A small flare of suspicion ignited within Sam and he looked Dean in the eyes.
"Why?"

Meeting his brother's questioning look with his own relaxed gaze, Dean gave a casual shoulder shrug.
"Like I said, you're the better tracker an', seein' as how the clown prints are clearer an' easier to pick out, it makes sense for me to head along that route an' leave the trickier one to your more superior skills; right?"
Sam couldn't deny the sense in Dean's reasoning and his almost instinctive suspicion was quickly quelled. Instead, his expression morphed into one of deep concern. Dean frowned back at him.
"What? Is somethin' crawlin' over me? What?"
"Nothin's crawlin' Dean, but somethin's definitely off. I mean, that's three times now you've admitted I'm the better tracker; you feelin' ok bro'? Maybe I should check you're not startin' with a fever?"
Grinning, Dean took a step backwards.
"Just 'cos I'm man enough to admit when you're better at somethin'? Besides, baby brother, we both know I'm waaaay better at ev'rythin' else!...Are we good to go now?"

Sam's smile faded and he glanced at his watch switching his focus onto the job at hand.
"Yup, but I want us to stay in touch. We put our phones on vibrate an' check in with each other say...Every 45 minutes?"
"Fine; unless I'm busy gankin' our werewolf pal, wouldn't wanna leave the freak waitin' while I have a cosy chat with you...Eyes in the back of your head little bro' an' keep safe."
Sam's expression became deadly serious.
"You too Dean. No takin' any dumb risks? Please?"
Dean gave a brief nod of his head.
"No intention of Sammy...C'mon little brother, let's go kill Snoopy."

Parting, the Hunters each headed to where the evidence of the supernatural visitor waited. Dean paused at the edge of the clearing, looking back over his shoulder he watched Sam disappear into the tree line and his lips curved into a small smile of satisfaction. Having successfully manoeuvred his brother into working the tracks made when the werewolf left their clearing, Dean turned his attention onto his own task, looking for more clues to help him back-track along the route that had brought the target to their clearing the previous night.

Werewolves in their monster form possess a superb and innate directional sense, needing only to travel a route once for it to become indelibly imprinted onto an ever expanding internal map of the individual's particular hunting ground. And so despite the creature having journeyed into an area of the forest wilderness previously unfamiliar to it, the werewolf unerringly made it's way back into known territory. From there it quickly found and moved along the route that within it's mind map would eventually lead to it's alternative hunting ground. With growing desire the beast could already picture itself moving invisibly through the shadows, crossing people's yards, along dimly lit side-walks, seeking out an altogether different kind of prey, experiencing the heightened excitement that it now sought. It felt like an age since it had last allowed itself the opportunity to feast on human.

Having had it's fill of it's kill, the second of the two werewolves moved away walking upright and headed off in search of one of the numerous narrow streams that meandered through the forest before eventually feeding into the fast flowing river that cut through the more southerly part of the wilderness. Had a member of Joe Public been around to spot glimpses of the creature by the moon's rays as it made it's way through thick, interwoven undergrowth and between close growing trees, they would doubtless believe they had witnessed the legendary and elusive Big Foot.

It didn't take long for the monster's sensitive hearing to tune into the sound of running water. At the side of the shallow stream, the werewolf dropped back onto all fours and, before actually drinking, began repeatedly scooping water up in one misshapen hand, using it to rinse as much congealed blood and gore off it's facial fur as it could. Once finished the creature sat back on it's haunches, and almost instantly raised itself back onto all fours. Lifting it's snout, it's nostrils widened as it scented the air. The elongated ears on either side of it's large head twitched like a cat's, both twisting to face forward. The odour it fleetingly caught was the faint but pungent aroma of it's companion. With a soft 'humph' of a sound the werewolf jumped the stream. Focused now it headed off, regularly sniffing the air, ensuring it was travelling in the right direction, moving without sound over ground that was densely covered by thick, spongy mosses.

Sam checked above his head before at last straightening up to his full height with a sigh of relief. Following the signs he had been able to identify as marking the passage of some sizeable creature had meant spending most of his time walking while bent over, consistently finding himself ducking and diving beneath tangles of low hanging branches to avoid repeatedly getting smacked either in the face or on the top of his head by them. Even then he wasn't able to completely get away without different parts of his clothing getting snagged, or feeling the occasional stinging whip of thin, flexible twigs across his cheeks. The ground too had become dangerously uneven with unexpected deep indents, hidden ditches, loose rocks and fallen trees who's trunks looked solid enough to step onto, but which suddenly crumbled underfoot when the wood turned out to be soft and rotten. So far Sam had managed to avoid tripping or falling but it was becoming more treacherous and more difficult to keep on moving forward. The forest surrounding him was now so dense and overgrown that it was rapidly becoming almost impossible to spot and verify with complete certainty any potential evidence which could signal to him that he was definitely still following the route taken by the werewolf. The way ahead looked to be even worse, presenting as virtually impenetrable unless he pushed through on his hands and knees. Sam had absolutely no wish to crawl his way into a confrontation with a werewolf and, with that in mind, he finally had to concede to himself that this route was a bust.

Still curious as to where the other of it's kind was heading but having no desire to risk getting so close that the other was alerted to it's presence the werewolf slowed it's pace right down, then abruptly halted. This was one of numerous parts of the great forest where the trees were a mix of different deciduous species and, right here, they had the space to spread their roots and their branches. With a greater amount of sunlight able to reach the forest floor, mosses and ivy had given way to grass and scattered clumps of wild flowers. Small animals visiting the area to feed on nuts and berries had formed a number of narrow trails which cut through the tracts of longer grass. None of these visual details, however, were what had distracted and garnered a new interest within the werewolf, rather it was the fragrances of this part of the forest hanging in the air that gently nudged at the creatures internal compass; and announced to the beast that it had previously passed close by this particular area only very recently.

Able to cover any distance faster on all fours than on two legs the werewolf broke into a loping run, threading it's way easily between the trees as it crossed the patch of deciduous forest until it found what it was searching for; the lingering remains of it's own scent on the ground. Any intentions of stalking it's companion dissipated, outweighed by the monster's desire to follow this route instead. It was the same route which the previous night had eventually led it to the edge of a clearing, and the sight of a rudimentary camp occupied by two human males. Guided by the remnants of it's own odour, the werewolf continued on. Although the beast was both eager and curious to discover whether the careless humans had returned to their camp, it intentionally moved along more slowly and cautiously keen to ensure that the men, should they be around, weren't alerted to it's presence by the sound of it's approach. Better that they remain blithely unaware of the potential danger and ignorant to the fact of their vulnerability.

-oOo-
Chick xxx