Decimandria: Fangs of Anger

Chapter 8: Deadtails

Before Sheraff could say anything Theraff jumped off, transformed midair into his werewolf form and shot off towards the village and superhuman speed. Levet, barely a moment behind, rushed after him. Ranfred and Sheraff looked at each other for a split second, Sheraff rolled his eyes and Ranfred shrugged his shoulders, and both of them rushed after the other two. 

Unsurprisingly, Theraff got the village first. The village gate had been busted open. It stood in shambles, barely standing now. Theraff skid to a halt and a looked around; the village had been utterly destroyed. Bodies littered the streets, houses were blown up like they'd been hit with a hurricane, trees were knocked over, patches of dried blood blotted the entire ground and there was a small stream of blood flowing through the main street down out of the gates. 

Sheraff and rushed in almost exactly when Theraff had registered all this damage in his mind. He looked around in shock too. It was scene of complete destruction. The village was destroyed like the werewolves hadn't been able to put up a fight at all. There was no smell of vampire blood in the air.

Levet and Ranfred came in last and looked around in shock too. Levet looked particularly appalled. "What the fuck happened here?" he muttered in a low voice. 

"What those blood suckers always do." answered Theraff bitterly. 

Ranfred started slowly walking around, almost a look of amazement playing on his face. Sheraff followed his suit but devoted his attention to inspecting the bodies. 

"This is...extraordinary." said Ranfred after a few minutes, as he scrutinized a big piece of beam presumably from a house. 

"What?" asked Levet, crossly. "That they'd fucking kill so many of our kind?" 

"You were on the way to do the same thing." said Sheraff seriously. 

"Yeah, but-" 

"What's extraordinary," cut in Ranfred, "was that it's impossible to find out who did this." 

"We can smell the vampires pretty clearly." sighed Theraff.

"Yes, we can." said Ranfred. "But to humans, they wouldn't be able to tell who did this at all. There is no damage that looks like it's been done by some wild animals, none to look like it was a big band of bandits, no magical residue...nothing." Ranfred paused and looked around in awe. "This village is just...destroyed. They cannot say anything more than that. They can't pursue anyone." 

Theraff looked him straight in the eye for a few seconds. "Yes, but we can." 

"Hey, come over here!" shouted Sheraff from deeper inside the village. The other three immediately rushed over to him. 

Sheraff was standing in the main village square which had a well in the center. A bloodied werewolf leaned against, spluttering blood, but alive. 

He had deep wounds all over his body. His clothes were so drenched in his own blood, you couldn't even tell what color they once might have been. His face was wounded as well; one eye missing, slashes across his face, blood coming out of his mouth. His dismembered arm lay a few feet to the left, still warm with blood. 

He was drifting in and out of consciousness but perked up when he sensed four werewolves around him. His eyes scanned the four werewolves but stopped at Theraff. 

"You!" he spluttered. 

Theraff slammed his foot on his throat and he yelped. "What the fuck happened here?" The werewolf just defiantly stared back up at the silverback. 

"What happened here?" growled Theraff a little loudly. 

Suddenly, the wounded werewolf broke into a laugh. Once he started, he couldn't stop. His maniacal laughter rang out through the village streets and into the surrounding countryside. Theraff eyes glowed bright green and squeezed his foot further, stopping whatever remaining air was going through his throat.