Eli
Brute wavered,appearing, disappearing, and solidified at the side of the Dwayyo’s prison. He snarled and snapped at the trapped creature.
“Brute. Don’t break the ward,” Liz warned.
The werewolf whirled and snarled at her.
Not sure what was happening, but knowing that something was off, Eli took careful aim at the wolf. He wasn’t loaded with silver-lead composite slugs or even the silver fléchette rounds Jane had special made for para-creature hunting, but at this range, he’d kill the white werewolf anyway.
He slowed his breathing.
The cute neon green grindy did the unexpected.
It leaped from Brute’s head, through the ward, to the Dwayyo’s back, breaking the wards with a shower of sparks.
Steel claws out, the grindy cut into the Dawyyo with a sound like swords clashing.
The creature screamed, made it to her feet, her pups in her arms, and dashed for the tree line. It stumbled. And headed down the hill.
Silence descended on the clearing.
“What just happened?” Liz asked.
Eli tilted his head, putting things together. He murmured, “Yeah. That explains a lot.”
“Son of a bitch,” Chewy said, clearly following Eli’s train of thought. “Am I gonna turn furry?”
“Furry?” Liz asked. “Is it coming back?”
“No. Let the wards down, Lizzie,” Eli said.
She touched the ground in front of her.
Eli walked down the angled tree and drank two bottles of water. Took that pee break. Then, his face schooled, he approached his friend. Knelt near him.
Silent, Chewy had watched him work. and when their eyes met, he said softly, “I asked you a question, Hoss.”
“I don’t understand,” Lizzie said.
“Best I can tell or deduce,” Eli said to Chewy, “the Dwayyo made a series of bad life choices and had a run of really bad luck. First it ate some deer with mad-cow. Then it had a run in with a werewolf.”
“Get to the point, Hoss.”
“Blunt. With few exceptions, werewolves, of all the were-creatures in the world, are never sane unless they have a pack structure. And even with a firm alpha pack leader the females never regain sanity. This one is Dwayyo and part human. Maybe Dwayyo are all part human, maybe shape-shifters, which is the direction I’m leaning. Maybe the healthy ones are moon called. Lots of maybe’s. She was also bitten by a werewolf. She ate her mate, she’s leaving her kills in a pit. Best guess is that she’s insane.”
Chewy cursed long and hard. Eli touched his friend’s shoulder and went to work. He emptied and repacked his rucksack, placing the gear so the weight was properly distributed. As he worked, he created a smaller gobag of water, ammo, a pack of food, an unopened military surplus metallized polyethylene terephthalate blanket, and a lighter to start a fire should he get stranded over night or need a signal fire, old school-style. He checked his earbuds. Working.
“Why do you think all that?” Liz asked, finally. “About the werewolf?”
Without looking up from his chores, Eli said, “I saw a wolf head in the shack. Saw the dead mate. He had been dead a while, and not of natural causes. They had been eating his corpse. Brute said they had something like rabies. Mad cow fits that bill, and it’s a fact that the disease is making its way here in deer. And if all Dwayyo left pits of dead animals around they’d be easy to track and kill. And mostly because the grindylow is interested in all this, but seems uncertain what to do next.”
“And grindys kill were-creatures that infect humans,” she said softly.
Chewy cursed again.
From his peripheral vision, Eli watched Liz. She was standing inside her circle, staring down the hill where the were-Dwayyo female had vanished, a tiny executioner on her head. Lizzie looked weird. Like she was thinking too much. He hated it when she thought too much. It always ended up being bad for him.
The silence stretched on too long. Eli was ready to go, knew he had to go, but also knew if he did, he was leaving them unprotected. And that Chewy would die if he didn’t go and bring back help. His eyes met those of his old friend, both of them saying too much, and not nearly enough.
