The White Wolf

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Gazing through the tree's, the wolf's yellow eyes watched its prey. The creature moved with the silence of its kind, shifting through the dark forest on four large powerful paws. From the tree's the wolf watched.

Geralt had arrived in the town about a day and a half ago, stopping at the Inn for the night and was looking for work, he had spotted the sheet of parchment hanging on the notice board and took it up, reading the badly scrawled script with difficulty even for his mutated eyes. Nodding, he folded it neatly and tucked it into a pouch on his belt before going to find the owner of the awful penmanship.

It was almost light outside tonight, the full moon shone high above the glade where the creature was prowling, it had just crawled out of its nest ready to hunt. The light of the full moon shone off its black coat and its maw of teeth and fangs let out deep gouts of breath.

The wolf watched from behind cover, testing the time to walk out. He stepped out into the glade with easy and slow steps, drawing the weapon of choice, the silver blade shone a light green in the twilight of the Full moon. The yellow slitted eyes of the wolf never left the beast.

The man had been helpful, giving him information on his missing wife, Geralt went around the village asking for any clues and found she had entered the forest five nights ago. He followed and found a trail of her footsteps still in the soil. Keeping low to the ground, his Witcher eyes followed the gentle footsteps. He found a blood pool, and black fur attached to a twig, something big had cut open something... about five days go..

He knew what it was now, the fur confirmed it, adding to the claw marks he found near the blood. Kneeling down around a small fire pit, he mixed several materials and plants into a small metal pot and after an hour of heating, rubbed the gooey oil onto his silver blade. The blade used for Monsters.

The beast saw the wolf and turned, its snarling mouth opening wide as it aimed its body at the wolf. The Wolf did not move, simply shifting his body as he brought the blade up to his face. The White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia, Witcher of the Wolf School of Kaer Mohren, jumped to the side as the Werewolf dashed at him with such speed a human wouldn't have time to react, but Geralt wasn't a human, he was a Witcher; a Mutated human created to kill and fight monsters.

Dodging the razor sharp claws of the Werewolf , Geralt hit the wolf with the tip of his sword several times, swing, pirouette and then swing, slash down and then right, jump back, roll, pirouette then slash again. He was winning. Soon the wolf fell to its knees, he approached slowly.

"Please do not kill me" the Werewolf snarled in perfect common, with a slight monstrous accent. "I did not know... I.. I did not know" it whimpered.

"I am sorry, I cannot cure you...You are far too gone for me to help" Geralt mumbled as he knelt down at the Werewolf's head.

"I can only offer you a quick death, from your curse" The wolf took a few moments to nod and then closed its eyes. Its head fell quickly and Geralt returned to the house of the man he'd got the contract from. It was empty, he knew it would be; the poor man had not realised he'd killed his own wife during his cursed nights.

He took the payment from the strong box at the back of the house, and then told the Mayor of the village; got on his horse, Roach, and rode off to the next time, another job, another payment for Geralt of Rivia

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