Werewolf Hunting

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Authors Note: A large block of text in italics is a flashback.

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See? I told you so.

16th Day

Chapter Twenty: Nightmares

Remus shivered as he stared around his 'new room'. As usual yesterday the robed figures had come and gotten him, but instead of taking him to where the Dark Lord was always waiting for him, they took him to another door. This door led to a set of stairs which went down into the dark and even colder room. It was a cellar with a cement floor, water dripped from the roof, mould and mildew clung to the walls and floor. They had untied him, not that Remus could do anything. He could barely move, let alone run away. And even if he could escape, he had no idea where he was or which way safety was. He struggled to curl up into a ball, his muscles screaming in protest. He whimpered pathetically, fear gripping him. He felt like he had been here for an eternity, each day was moulded into one another, time meant nothing to him. He had eaten little, merely scraps that his captors had given for him. Drink was more frequent although in the past Remus didn't know it was possible for water to taste stale.

It was freezing in the cellar, the combination of water and cement left the floor like ice. Rats, mice and a few other unrecognisable rodents watched him from the darkness and moved around inside the walls. He shuddered once more. Wondering when the torment would end, even if the end meant death, it would be better than what he was going through now. Outside thunder rumbled as the storm rode in on steads of lighting.

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The wind blew cold and harsh through the trees. The full moon cast an eerie glow on the ground. The dark figure moved swiftly through the trees, eyes and ears alert as he listened to all around him. His breathing was soft and even as he watched the ground pass beneath his feet, following near unnoticeable signs of where his quarry had passed. A cloud moved over the moon throwing everything in darkness. The figure froze, listening for something and then right on cue it came. A lone howl echoed around the forest. It was the kind of howl that struck fear into the hearts of normal men and women, magic and muggle alike. The cloud moved again, throwing the moonlight back onto the world beneath it. The figure grinned, to some people the moon stood for serenity and peace, for him, it meant business.

The howl sounded again, much closer than before. It sounded as though it came from everywhich direction, surrounding the figure, but he knew better. He had done this too many times to be fooled by such a trick. He waited patiently, letting his prey believe that IT was the predator and come to him. His hand moved drawing an item from his belt. In his right hand, he held a silver knife, the moonlight catching off it disturbingly. He was silent listening to carefully, there was no sound, no night-time birds or animals moved, they knew what was coming. The figure suddenly grinned, baring his teeth triumphantly. He could hear it now, the rhythmic thud of paws on ground as something large and powerful made it's way steadily towards the man. He closed his eyes focusing solely on the creature as it came closer and closer, he could hear the sound of it's breathing, deep and harsh and broken by the sound of it breathing his scent, tracing it to the clearing where the man had stopped. The figure listened harder, he could almost make out the beasts heartbeat in it's chest. The figure turned his back to the creature, relying singularly on his hearing to pin point his prey. It was close, so close. He could hear it slowing as it prepared to stalk him, the sound of it's large furry body scrapping the ground, claws burying into the soft dirt beneath it's paws as the braced itself for it's attack. He knew it could see him he shifted his grip on his weapons, gripping them tighter. The ground behind him shifted ever so slightly as the beast prepared the leap.

He turned slowly and faced his enemy. The wolf gave a guttural growl as he met it's cold golden eyes. He watched the muscles ripple under the wolf's hide, all of them bunched and tensed, the beast was drooling, it's upper lip drawn back in an snarl, it's pearly white teeth gleaming. The figure snarled back, his eyes triumphant. The wolf could no longer wait for the figure to run, it leapt.

The figure moved, jumping enough to the side to avoid getting bitten, yet still keeping himself in the wolf's path. He moved with the beast the pair of them dropping to the ground. He grabbed the wolf's paw as it struck; ensuring the beast could not get to it's feet straight away and attack before he was ready. The figure spun as the wolf struggled to get back to it's feet. He grinned as the wolf leapt at him again, he moved quickly gripping the beast's ear suddenly causing it to yelp in shock and surprise. For several minutes the beast and man fought, rolling around, neither of them winning nor losing.

Finally the man's arm wrapped around the beasts neck and gripped it by the ruff, he made a triumphant noise as he moved his right hand, preparing to drive his knife deep into the monster's side, but something metal and cold slipped between the fingers of his left hand. The moonlight glinted off of something around the beast's neck. He moved his hand, distracted by what he realised was a chain. His eyes followed it around the struggling wolf's neck and then fell on the pendant hanging off the chain. He froze. A hand of ice gripped his heart. He knew that necklace, it was unique, there was only one of them. But that had to mean…

The figure released the wolf with a yell of horror. He couldn't believe it, it couldn't be! He stumbled backwards slightly, staring at the wolf. "Not her" he thought desperately, "anyone but her." The wolf snarled deeply and lunged forwards, He didn't move in time and a massive pair of forepaws topped with claws like daggers, dragged across his chest. He fell with a yell, as the wolf leapt onto him and stared down into his face. The creature bared it's teeth and growled, a long hard sound that echoed in his mind for years to come. The beast then opened it mouth, and lunged.

Boewyn woke with a strangled yell. He got out of his bed and stalked over the sink, his breathing harsh and uneven. He washed his face and then leant on the sink, staring down the drain. Finally he raised his head and looked into the mirror at his reflection. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes feverish. He drew in several shuddering breaths, gasping slightly. He struggled to calm himself down. He hated that dream, that nightmare.

That memory. He thought dismally. A compulsive shudder ran through his body. He turned away from the mirror and made his way back over to the bed, he rubbed his temples with a groan, his head was pounding.

The room was cold, contrasting with the sweat glistening on his body, making him shiver slightly. He climbed back into the bed and lay back, this time he was on top of the blankets. He stared at the roof, almost looking through it, in his minds eye he saw the full moon, though in reality it was not for another 2 weeks or so. With a sigh Boewyn sat up, propping himself against the pillows. He looked down at his chest, despite the fact that it was dark in the room, his eyes had quickly adapted and he could clearly see the ugly scar that lined his chest. He shuddered again, unable to stop himself. He lay back and tried to get back to sleep but he couldn't manage it. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the necklace, the glinting teeth of the wolf, he could hear the snarl, the breathing and he could remember a voice screaming her name. He suddenly sat up and got out of bed. A few minutes later he was dressed and making his way downstairs. There was only a sleeping looked bartender there, obviously just watching the desk in the odd event hat someone should come to a tavern at this hour of the morning. The bartender looked surprised when Boewyn came down but said nothing. Boewyn hesitated and then ordered. This was one thing he wanted to forget, and although he had tried and failed to do so some many times before he was determined to try again.

Authors Note:

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