Category : Stories

Sub Category : Suspense/Mystery

Through the snowy forest, not much can easily be seen or sensed, even by the strongest of beasts. The snow swirls and violent wind gusts make the wilderness almost impenetrable tonight, which is no good news to the fury creature. 
The shewolf is fighting her way through the white hell, blood trailing behind her. It's torture, but she has no option. She must find the Witches Cottage, no two ways about it.  Lilith's Witch is the only one who posses the power to heal her oldest offspring. Without Arlac, the Warewolves will have no great leader. She knows that. The Warewolves must remain as solid as ever, on solid grounds. 
The Moon and Stars momentarily appear from under the clouds, and the storm stops for just long enough that she can readjust her senses and locate the Witches Cottage. She starts moving towards it. She must be careful, the villagers and their forks, and arms, and guns have not proved to be anywhere close  to being allies lately. Times have changed. She must be especially on her game around the cottage, as it is a spot well known to any of the  Nightcrawl Hunters.  The Cottage door opens just as she gets to it, and she steps inside. Out of the hart of the home, a dark, purple smoke rises, and out of it a voice shrills "In times of need a Witch you seek, you must speak fast and my advice heed". 
"I want the Wolf Cure, which I know that Only You have, Great Witch. My Oldest has been cursed in battle, and He is on his death bed. I came to give you what you want." 
The Witch materialized out of the heavy smoke, and asked the Shewolf for her finger. The Shewolf transformed into her human figure, considerably less threatening, probably because her eyes quickly turned from red to the most comforting baby blue the Witch has ever seen. She felt her finger getting pricked in the most intrusive way possible, and,  in dreadful anticipation of what her Sacrifice will be, she heard the Witch say these words :
"To cheat Death for Life, you sacrifice not much, but an Eternity of shrills and begging for escape. The pleading will not be Yours, My Faithful Hellhound. But one job you have, to collect the Living so you can feed the Dead".