The Lycan Games

Prologue

Transfăgărășan, Romania.

Aaron Locke has just finished his dinner at a local restaurant and was walking back to the campsite where he and his best friend had been staying for the past few days. They had a long day hiking under the sun to a beautiful mountain lake. Now, Aaron was walking alone in the dark, digesting what he ate. His friend, too full and too drunk to move, headed straight back to the campsite to sleep. 

Aaron had no worries about being alone in the dark in Transfăgărășan. It was a small place, picturesque and relatively quiet. Everyone knew everyone. As a foreigner, he stuck out like a sore thumb, and that was beneficial in some way. The more eyes on him made him feel safer.

Although, lately, there have been a few people who had gone missing. Not in Transfăgărășan, but in neighboring towns. Authorities have told locals and visitors to be vigilant. They are unsure where, how, and why some of these people have gone missing. The only thing, a detail that authorities probably tried to keep a secret but failed, was that there was always blood left behind at the scene. Lots of it. Everywhere.

But Aaron didn't care. He had sore muscles from a day worth of avid exploring. Some drinks in his belly, downed with locals at a quaint pub. He was in a good mood. He walked with a smile, stumbling from a good buzz.

When Aaron arrived back at the campsite he could see the faint glow of the lamp from within his tent. But he also noted how eerily quiet it was. He knew it was night and that the birds, squirrels, and all the other little critters were asleep. But it almost seemed too quiet. Like the night itself was holding its breath. 

As Aaron got closer, he smelled something different about the air. Something wet. Not water, sickly sweet. Not foul, but fresh. It reminded him of something, but he wasn't sure of what.

"Tommy. You drunken bastard. You awake?" Aaron called out to the night. 

No answer. 

"What have you been up to since I've been -- ".

When Aaron got closer to the tent he noticed that from inside the tent there were smear marks all over the walls. The lantern, still lit from within the tent, made the smear marks glow. And they were...dripping. 

Aaron came to a full stop. His mouth dropped open and he stepped back. He didn't know what he was seeing. But whatever it was raised every single hair on his body in alarm. 

He backed up. Afraid.  "Tommy?" Aaron said, quietly. 

Suddenly, a rustling behind him. Aaron turned. "Who's there?" 

Something stepped out of the dark, into view. Aaron's eyes grew wide with terror. But then something else stepped out, then another. Aaron didn't know where to look. They all made guttural noises. Aaron could only think of running. And so he did.

Stumbling backward, Aaron screamed as he spun around, and raced to the tent. It was the only source of safety that he knew.

The tent flap was already open. He threw himself in and zipped up the tent. He was shaking with fear. 

But now inside the tent, Aaron could see what the smear marks were. It was all blood. And his friend, Tommy, was dead. His body ripped open. Torn to shreds. Guts on full display. His eyes still open, recalling fear. 

Aaron fell back, slipping on blood. He tried to scream but there was only silence. 

Then he heard them. Outside the tent, circling. Aaron felt warmth between his legs. In pure fear, he urinated on himself. If they couldn't smell his fear before, they could now. 

"Please. Leave me alone. Please. Please" Aaron begged. He hoped and prayed to God that whatever was out there would leave.

It was silent for a while. Aaron could only hear his panicked breathing. 

He thought he made it. He thought he made them go away. How could he be so lucky? Until the tent flap started to open from the outside. 

Aaron watched it slowly unzip, then a single long-nailed muscular finger poked through. As if it was both a piercing and slashing weapon, it pulled down on the zipper. 

Aaron opened his mouth finally, sucking in a breath to scream. But it was too late. 

In a lightning-quick display, whatever was outside, tore through the flap and was on top of Aaron. Devouring him. Ravaging him. Smearing his insides across the tent.