An: This chapter I took some liberties to flesh out some of Carmilla's back story, most of it isn't cannon (as far as I know) for anything but this story in particular.
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She hadn't had this much fun in years... ok well that was a lie, but Laura with her goody-goody morals usually kept her from cutting loose and going on a good old fashioned murderous rampage like she'd sometimes used to back in the days of peasants and pitch forks and sometimes she just really needed to murder something and a feral pack of werewolves that had strayed from their territory was a good as anything.
She didn't usually hunt wolves for sport but maybe there was something to the ideas about vampires and werewolves hating each other that had been perpetuated by modern story tellers after all, if she wasn't careful she might end up making a habit of it, this was fun.
It had been a surprise to find Voldermort's attack dog outside of the isles. Werewolves of Greyback's sort didn't usually stray from their territory.
She didn't particularly like dark lords; she generally didn't particularly like anybody really. She was perfectly happy being ambivalent. Dumbledore was her friend though so she'd help him, and Laura, she was still the same girl she met at Silas a little paler, a little older perhaps, but still as cheerful and bubbly and disgustingly goody-goody. She'd never let someone as vile as Greyback and his dark lord run around unchecked without trying to help out. Oh and they were vile, the miserable little wretches.
Yes she would teach those Futsau Abschaum a lesson they would not soon forget and help her old friend where she could, while making Laura happy at the same time.
Three birds with one stone, it was the perfect plan and so far she'd been enjoying herself.
So here she was chasing down werewolves in a forest and having fun while Laura stayed safe and out of harm's way at their hotel. Laura for all her small size was tough and despite her relative youth and inexperience could probably take them but somehow she didn't think hunting down some Fetznschädl wolves through a forest would be Laura's idea of fun.
Oh well, Laura wouldn't be Laura if she did she supposed, and as infuriatingly stubborn as she could be at times Carmilla wouldn't have her any other way.
Glancing up she took note of the cloudy skies above, hopefully it didn't actually rain, but the reprieve from the sun mild as it might be here was welcome.
Laura would be happy that she was actually doing something productive and she would get to show some miserable, vulgar little worms their place before squashing them beneath her feet. Today was going to be fun.
The forest Fenrir and his pack had taken up residence in might serve as an advantage for them against almost any other foe but unluckily for them she was just as home here as they.
With a twist and flurry of black wings she split herself apart in a murder of crows.
It was appropriate she thought; today there would be a great deal of murder.
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After a glancing search from the air she decided that while idiots, Fenrir and his pack apparently did have some sense and had taken steps to hide their den.
She doubted she'd find many of the wolves wondering the forest so as she coalesced into a more human form she pondered briefly about how best to draw them out. The forest was quite large randomly searching wouldn't cut it.
The forest bristled in the breeze and the leaves at her feet were disturbed as she slowly began to walk, casting her senses out as she thought.
It wouldn't be fun if it was over to quickly so she would have to limit herself, if only a little.
Slowly an idea came to her, not even pausing in her stride she let out a deep breath of unnaturally chilly air. As she continued to exhale her breathe slowly began to form into a long wisp of fog like mist that twisted and curled in the air.
Raising a hand she ran her hands along it almost an owner would a pet. Slowly the mist took the shape of a simplistic ghostly figure reminiscent in shape of a cat with long trailing ears.
With a final gentle caress she sent it darting out amongst the trees, tiny ethereal wisps drifting in its wake.
Halting she leapt upwards taking to the tress above.
Taking a seat on a particularly enticing limb she took out the blade she'd carried with her.
The sword of Hastur was all well and good but she much preferred the slender sabers and elegant rapiers of her ancestors. She was proud to say they would do the job just fine thank you very much.
Deadly in their elegance they were far more suited to someone of her size and slender build.
She remembered with fondness her papa's many lessons and the many 'battles' they had fought all about their home; she'd had an unusual education for a girl of her time.
He had been eccentric but she had loved him dearly and he had always doted on her. Her mama had died when she was very little and it had only been her and papa and their servants and frequent guests and visitors alone in their ancestral Schloss.
She cherished the memories of her childhood, they had been all that kept her from giving into despair many dark days under her forced servitude to her 'mother'.
Papa had taught her to ride a horse and fight with a saber and all the other things and more that a man of those times was expected to.
She had been wilful even then she mused with a almost wistful smile. She'd been so full of fire, how it had galled her to be shackled to that Schlampe.
Her poor papa had expired of sadness at her death.
Shaking herself she brought her attention to the mist creation that had returned bearing news of muddy claw prints, putting away for now the memories of her childhood.
Sure enough when she arrived there were muddy prints littering the small clearing when she arrived.
Unbidden a smile came to her face, let the hunt begin.
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An: The foreign looking italicized words an Austrian/German swear words.
If anyone actually speaks German or an Austrian variant feel free correct me on any mistakes no or in the future.
Translations:
Futsau – cunt pig
Abschaum – scum
Fetznschädl – idiot
Schlampe - bitch
Schloss - castle