Chapter 2

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"Miss Rose!"

She awoke to the sound of frantic calls outside the cottage. One of the townspeople pounded on the door outside, before pleading, "Miss Rose! You have to get away!"

Rose stood, suddenly becoming more aware of the sounds around her. People were screaming, some shouting orders while others simply screamed from fear. Her heart slammed in her chest, panic flooding her mind. No! It had come back!

Her father ordered sternly from behind her. "Run."

Rose turned, "No, I won't leave you alone."

William pushed her towards the door. "Go on. I'll be fine."

The young woman swallowed, adrenaline running through her veins. Snatching a knife from the kitchen draw, she made her way to the door. Throwing it open, the young woman froze in her place.

Bodies, or rather pieces of them, covered the ground. Blood was splattered on the walls of several homes, staining the wood. The severed arms, legs and even heads of the unlucky villagers and animals who had been slaughtered lay carelessly where they had landed. The air held the strong metallic stench of fresh blood. It was enough to make Rose want to vomit.

Her eyes scanned the landscape, frantically searching for the beast that had done this. Then, all of a sudden, it was there. It had come out from behind a cottage and was now slowly approaching her.

The werewolf was about twice if not three times her height, and in the form of a wolf. This was how it always looked on a full moon. It's fur was mattered and the colour of rust, and it's claws were long and sharp.

The werewolf narrowed his golden eyes, growling. The sound was a low rumble similar to that of a volcano. Rose's legs shook from fear. The werewolf's fangs caught the moonlight, making them seem even sharper then they were.

Rose sucked in a breath. Her mind screamed at her to run. This beast was feral. She could see the dried blood on its fangs.

The werewolf stopped, although it didn't matter. It was too close. Rose could smell both human and animal flesh on the creature's breath. With shaking hands, she gripped the knife. Being as quick as possible, the young woman lashed out and sliced a cut across the werewolf's face.

It moved back, shaking its head. When the beast set its eyes on her, Rose braced herself for an attack.

Before the creature could pounce, a crossbow sounded. Seconds later, the werewolf let out a high-pitched howl of pain. While the beast moved around in agony, Rose noticed a silver tipped arrow in its shoulder blade.

The werewolf suddenly whirled around, looking directly at the person who had shot it. A woman, Rose realized. She was dressed in dark colored man's clothing...and was clearly a werewolf hunter. Most likely one of Robert's group members.

Rose was suddenly knocked to the side with one swipe of the werewolf's massive paw. She hissed as the fresh claw marks in her cheek began to sting.

She shot up, looking around for the werewolf. The young woman only saw its quickly disappearing outline as it ran back into the thick forest. It was going back to its home to heal.

Allowing herself a moment to breath, Rose's thoughts went to her father. Standing, she ran inside the cottage, "Papa!" she called.

The old man emerged from his hiding place. He embraced his daughter, "I was so worried about you."

She hugged him back, "It's alright Papa." She sighed, letting him go, "But a lot of people died because of the beast." An unexpected anger struck her. The werewolf had slaughtered innocent people yet again! Rose clutched her knife in her hand. Stepping back from her father, she said, "I'm going after it."

William's eyes widened, "Rose!"

"Something has to be done about that beast! We can't keep living in fear of it!" The young woman answered.

Her father clenched his hands into tight fists. "Alright, go," he said reluctantly. He knew there was no point in telling her otherwise. She would have just found a way to go after it anyway.

Rose smiled, "Thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can." Kissing her father on the forehead, she went to the door. She had to track down that werewolf.

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