Chapter 2: Being Bitten

Remus ran through the streets of his home town. His friends and he were playing hide-and-seek. Timothy and Jonathan were his two best friends. He was sure they were hiding behind the casks near the baker. It was their usual hiding place.

He grinned and approached on tiptoes, ready to scare them a little bit. Suddenly he noticed a dark figure looming over the casks of flour. Immediately followed by the terrified screech of Tim. A jet of light, coming from one of the windows overhead, illuminated the contorted face of a huge dog, standing on its hind-legs. Remus screamed, too. He noticed the werewolf from stories his father had told him.

With his scream he had drawn the attention of the beast to him. But it just looked at him and reached down, grabbing Jon around the throat and lifting him up bodily. Jon tried to scream but couldn't get enough air through his windpipe. His legs kicked fruitlessly.

Remus was the oldest of the trio and he had promised Tim's and Jon's parents that he would take care of them. He grabbed the nearest object and hurled it at the werewolf. The small rock bunched off it without even leaving a scratch or hurting the beast in any noticeable way. The only effect it had was that the werewolf narrowed his eyes menacingly and threw Jon away. Slowly and deliberately it lowered itself onto all four of its legs.

Roaring its anger, the werewolf charged. Remus turned and ran but he was just a child with short legs. The werewolf overtook him easily. He felt the paws of the creature around his shoulders. Then he was lifted clean off his feet.

Jerking and screaming, Remus hoped that someone would hear him and come to his aide. His feet were kicking frantically and he managed to hit target in the werewolf's stomach. The paw-like hand around his throat pressed together painfully and Remus began to gasp for air, panicking even more now that he couldn't breathe. In his struggle for air and his fight against death his efforts to escape doubled. Blindly he kicked at every inch he could reach and even used his hands to punch and scratch. Finally he managed to kick the beast where it counted and he was dropped to the ground.

There he sat, gasping for air. He had to get away from the beast as long as it was in pain and licking its wounds. Struggling to his feet, Remus managed to make two steps before he was hit in the side and thrown to the ground again.

The werewolf circled him slowly, more weary of the boy it had perceived as an ease victim. Remus felt his heart in his throat. He was sure he would die tonight and the only thought creeping into his mind was that he thanked God that Tim and Jon at least were safe. And then the beast lunged forward.

The last thing he perceived was a huge gorge with rows of huge, yellowish teeth, ripping through his skin. Then darkness engulfed him.