Blood Moon

Chapter 7

A blood curdling howl floated from the other end of the village; the men set off again at a run. They could now hear the terrified screams of the women and children. "Faster, brothers!' Ibraham yelled in an attempt to spur on the men. 'The beast is attacking the church!" As they entered the clearing around the church, they saw the creature attacking the doors to the chapel in a demonic frenzy.

Ibraham continued his charge even though several of the men froze in fear. He could not blame them. It was, however, his job to protect them as their spiritual leader so on he ran. He gripped his silver sword with both hands and drew back for the killing blow. Two arrows flashed by his head to bury themselves into the beast's broad back. A quick glance at the approaching line of torch bearing men and it was gone; it sprang atop the church and from there to the next roof. Its howls of rage echoing around the entire village as it disappeared over the roof tops.

Turning, Ibraham stormed toward the only two villagers with a bow...the village Fletcher and his son, both stood around looking as though they were proud of themselves. "What were you doing?' Ibraham roared as he fought the urge to take the elder Fletcher by the throat. 'I could have taken the beast's head while it was distracted!"

"You are welcome, Priest!' The elder Fletcher bellowed back, spittle flying from his lips. 'The likes of you could not have prevailed against such a demon as that!"

"I find your lack of faith disturbing, Fletcher.' Ibraham retorted, his tone softening as he regained his self control. 'I can do all things through Christ, who gives me strength."

"This is a DEMON, father.' The Fletcher replied, his own tone softening though the fear was evident in his tone as the anger subsided. 'It is not merely a man and besides that...what do you know of fighting?"

So many bloody memories threatened to overwhelm him but it was no business of this Fletcher what experience he did or did not have in war. "Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle."

The Fletcher just stared at the priest in disbelief before shaking his head and turning to walk away. He had not made it more than a handful of steps before a blur of motion sped from one of the darkened allies. The Fletcher barely had time to scream before he was gone; he had been taken so quickly that one of his boots still lay in the street.

"Back to back, everyone! Keep your eyes open!" Ibraham held his sword in the well remembered high guard. An oblong shape hurled through the air to thud wetly in the muddy street, it rolled to a stop at the priest's feet. It was the Fletcher's head; his eyes still wide with shock stared up into the midnight sky...his mouth was stretched in a silent scream of terror.His son fell to his knees screaming, scrambling through the muck to cradle his father's head in his arms.

Everyone cast their eyes heavenward as the beast roared and lept from the church steeple, for a split second it was silhouetted in the full moon's light...almost hanging at the apex of its leap. The wolf's fangs and claws dripped gore; its fur was matted in crimson. In a flash the moment was broken and the creature's massive form thudded into the street in the defender's midst. Mud fountained up where the werewolf's monstrous form crashed into the street.