Prowlers of the Night (Chapter One)

Chapter One

The wolf howled up at the ghostly sphere, its dagger-sharp teeth glistening eerily. Its eyes were sky blue, and its ears pointed and upright. The wolf’s ears pricked slightly, as low rustle could be heard in the near by bushes. Something glinted from the shade of the trees. The wolf had sensed danger earlier, so she knew something was coming and silently crept by the bushes and lay flat down-ready to pounce. The wolf growled violently, trying to warn the enemy off. But it was too late, far too late. The metal thudded into its flank, knocking the air from its lungs. The wolf yelped in pain and made a desperate attempt, limping to safety, but -- bang. The second bullet put it out of its misery and the wolf landed with a loud thud. Its eyes were open but still. A large shadow appeared out of the bushes and strolled casually towards the bloody corpse.

*

A big man towered over the wolf, examining his handiwork. He smiled as rotated his gun with his index finger, blowing the barrel. His eyes were shielded by long black hair, but his mouth revealed stained and chipped teeth. He had a cocky air about him; he laughed quietly to himself as he stared at the wolf's limp, blood-soaked corpse. He wore leather boots and a light brown suit. At each side a revolver was pocketed, the gold trimmed handles poking out of the holsters. He grinned as he unsheathed a hidden blade in his shoe. He stared admiringly at it, as it glinted in the darkness, before sinking it into the wolf. With the knife he dug it deeper and deeper in the flesh, before finally he found and flicked out the last bullet that was lodged deep inside her. He lent his head back and tried a poor attempt and howling at the moon. He pulled a bottle of whiskey out. And moments later, when the bottle was half empty he dozed off.

*

Something suddenly spooked the man and his eyes shot open. He sat up and stared puzzled at the wolf. He didn't remember much in the last few hours, but he seemed pretty sure that the wolf was cut up and drenched in blood. But now the wolf’s fur was as it should be; dirty, scruffy and blood free. The man shrugged it off as he picked up the whiskey and started downing it again, getting himself wasted silly.

*

The wolf’s eyes flickered to life. The man’s night wasn't over yet. He had just made a new enemy. One that wasn't as forgiving as the previous and one that was as reckless as him.