SPHR

Beowolves are Poor Sport and the Two Letters

       The snow glistened like diamonds in a forest. While a beautiful sight it was also a dangerous one. Filled with danger, many stayed away.

       A creature like a oversized black wolf ambled out of the trees. It sniffed then snarled, it's red eyes scanning. Two more padded out towards the other. Their long legs allowed them to rise up on two legs for a period of time. One of them growled ever fiercely and started to rise for a howl. Before it could even get to the full hight, a feminine figure with silver hair with a stroke of green leapt from the side, blasting one off its feet and into the snow with the staff she was holding. The others quickly turned and lunged but ended up bashing their heads together with enough force to kill themselves.

       "Beowolves," she said disdainfully as she dropped, "the are such poor sport."

The girl was a fairly attractive young lady who wore a long sleeved, white leather jacket, stopping at the waist, and a short, short sleeved, grayish battle dress. She also wore knee high black boots and soft white pants, similar to jeans, but more flexible.

       "I might as well get some Lien." The girl sighed, and proceeded to remove teeth and bones, crushing them into a bottle so they could be used instead of evaporating away, along with other assorted parts of the Beowolves that could be taken without it evaporating. Soon after, she was walking back to town and went to a late night shop. The owner stood on the other side of reinforced glass if in a hat that covered the top part of the old man's face. Even with all the shady looking aspects of the interior, the man's smile was kind and his deep voice sounded as though a grandkid was visiting him.

       "Hello there, Sage. What do you have for me today?"

       "The terrible usual of some Beowolf parts."

       "Oh Sage, you know it is still quite the bravery you have to go out at night and fight all those creatures. It's not that bad."

       Sage sighed and put her finds if the slot for the old shopkeeper to inspect.

       "Medium pelt," the shopkeeper murmured to himself, "high teeth, and pretty good bones. Quite the good skull you got there. 40 Lien for the whole thing."

       "High for this stuff, you're to kind."

       "Sage...you'll never get this sort of stuff will you?"

       "I guess I won't." She said with a shrug.

       As Sage walked out, a black clothed figure leaning against the wall, her face hidden by a hood, spoke.

       "You know you shouldn't go out and hunt. You could get hurt." Her voice wasn't hurtful or soft, but still forceful.

       "You sound like mother." Sage answered and continued walking.

       The hooded figure stood up straight and followed after her, "You know I care a lot. You could get really hurt. Especially how you keep going deeper and deeper for bigger prey."

       "And you should know that I would never get hurt. I have trained for 10 years and never gotten hurt." She retorted.

       "You have gotten hurt. Not seriously thank goodness. And the only time you have fought a small Ursa, I was with you." After a long pause, she spoke again, "Sage, please, do it for Mom. For me. You know how long hard life has been for Mother and Father."

       Sage stopped and sighed, "I want to make sure they have a great retirement and we have plenty of money after that. You should know I want that, Raven. You haven't been doing your regular fun and jokes recently either."