Howling In The Night | Night Cat #2

Howling In The Night - Chapter 12

Friend Or Foe?

I was pretty sure that that crazy wolf-creature was still running loose in the woods.

But that knowledge still couldn’t stop me from venturing into the forest that weekend. I couldn’t help it. I was anxious, restless and I had a lot on my mind. One does not simply fall asleep when you’re as troubled as I was.

Which is why, instead of heading downstairs and drinking a glass of warm milk, like any normal person, I climbed out of my window, shifted, and sprinted into the woods behind my house.

Crickets chirped, rabbits scampered, owls hooted, but until I’d ventured to the inner most part of the forest, I didn’t hear a single sound that suggested the monster was roaming about. Once I’d entered the clearing where I’d encountered the beast several times before, I ran around in circles a couple of times before finally scaling a high tree. I perched myself on top of a sturdy branch, waiting. I wasn’t going to run this time. I was going to face this creature and put an end to the torment it was putting me through.

I didn’t have to wait long.

The creature tumbled through the thicket a few minutes after I’d gotten settled into the tree. I cautiously peered over the edge of the branch I was seated on, ignoring the trembling sensation of fear that was coursing through my veins, sending shudders up and down my spine.

The wolf-man stopped in his tracks the minute he got into the clearing. He’d caught my scent. Raising himself up on his hind legs, the wolf raised its head into the air, sniffing at the wind. When he stood, I was able to get a good look at him for the first time that night.

The creature had changed a lot since I last saw it. It looked more like a hunched up wolverine that could walk upright and less like a man covered in fur. The only thing that helped me identify it as the beast – apart from the upright walking, of course – was the face that it was wearing a ripped up pair of pajama bottoms.

I had to say, the pajamas were looking a lot worse for wear than the pair of cargo shorts it had been wearing a few days ago.

The creature had also grown in size – something that I hadn’t thought was even possible. I mean, the thing was huge before, but now it was almost the size of a young grizzly bear. Its dirty blond fur had grown longer, along with both its snout as well as its tail. I also noticed, with a gulp of horror, that its canines seemed to have lengthened too.

The creature no longer had hands with elongated fingernails either – it had paws the size of saucers along with some intimidating, long claws. Unconsciously, I held up one of my own paws for inspection and saw that mine were nowhere near as long or as threatening as the creature’s were. I gulped again.

The beast – I was still too skeptical to call him a werewolf – suddenly threw his head back and howled. An ear-splitting, spine tingling howl. I felt the fur on my spine rise in fear and my tail go rigid. I’d heard the monster howl countless times before, but there was something about this particular one that curdled my blood.

Maybe because of being void of emotion like it usually was, this one happened to be filled with pain – excruciating pain. A small part of me wondered if the monster had been attacked, and that’s why it seemed to be in so much pain. The larger part of myself, however, wanted to know what on earth I was still doing up in that tree.

It took a long mental war to finally convince me that I needed to stay and face the monster instead of running away from it. I couldn’t continue being a coward. I needed to stop cowering behind bushes and hiding from the thing. I wasn’t doing anyone any good by hiding from it. Confronting the beast was the only thing that could help me.