Guul'Zaroth Ch.14 - Hope

With a pair of steaming cups in her hand, Dragana sat across the table from Edwin and slid one of the mugs toward him. He slouched in his chair and stared into the dark pool of his drink for a long, silent moment. Despite the blazing hearth in the corner, he and Dragana wore thick fur housecoats and drank deeply from their tea.

"I haven't seen Lavinia in the market since... that night," said Dragana while absentmindedly twirling one of her ebony braids. "The townsfolk miss her medicines."

"Draga, she's barely left the house in months. I can go days without even hearing her voice. Before this, before Viktor, there was a time when she was loud and vibrant. Always singing while she worked, dancing at the slightest hint of music. A mouthy, stubborn girl who was too much like her father." Edwin lowered his head into his hands and smoothed down his grey streaked beard. "She misses him. Those two, they'd been friends since day one. Playing together as babies, making mischief as children. Then they grew up and Lavinia just had to be in love with that idiot. Most men would have strangled a boy like Rolf for pursuing his daughter but..."

She shook her head and downed another mouthful of tea. "Edwin, this is the most you've talked about him since the funeral."

He tried to smile when he thought about Rolf but his best efforts came up short. "Do you remember how at the end of the week, at 8 o'clock, he'd come storming into the fort and challenge me to a duel? Every night, right around that time, my heart stops for a moment when the door opens and it's not him." He lifted his head to look Dragana in the eyes. "Why couldn't he just listen?" Edwin swallowed his cup in one gulp and got to his feet. He stood next to the window and gazed into the slowly building blizzard and the swirling zephyr's of frosty wind. "We promised Rieker we'd look after his son. I watched him grow up, I looked out for him for years and still I couldn't protect him."

He felt Dragana's hand on his and turned to see her donning a rare smile.

Suddenly, a loud rapping at the door stole Edwin's attention away. "I'm not receiving visitor's at the moment," he called out.

"Edwin, it's damn cold out here and I'll not take no for an answer. Open this accursed door!"

"Who the hell is that?" Edwin shook his head, stomped toward the door and threw it open. He was about to tell whoever it was to go home but was abruptly when he revealed the grizzled figure of Viktor, leaning on a cane and covered in a big fur coat.

"This cannot possibly... Viktor?" Edwin said under his breath.

"Aye it is, and not quite so dead as previously thought," the old man replied as he pushed past Edwin and slammed the door behind him.

By the time he reached the middle of the room, Dragana was on her feet and had her sword pointed squarely in his direction. "Who the hell are you, barging in here and looking far too much like a dead man?"

Viktor stamped his cane on the ground and stood as straight as he could manage. "Miss Molotova, I would request that you put down the sword at least long enough for me to explain myself. If you want to kill me afterwards, and you probably will, then so be it. For now, sit the hell down and shut the hell up."

Edwin skirted around to Dragana's side and cast glare at the intruder. "Then start talking. What the hell happened that night?"

Viktor hobbled over the nearby window and reached into his coat pocket. From inside he pulled a small locket and placed it on a nearby table. Drawing the sleeve back on his coat, he raised his right arm to the window and held it under the moonlight for a moment. Within seconds, something started to move under his skin. The muscles in his forearms bulged and thick white hair sprung from the flesh. His fingernails grew into claws and his one good eye tightened shut as his body struggled with the changes. After a few seconds more, Viktor yanked his arm back and snapped up the locket. The moment the trinket was back in his grasp, the change started to reverse itself and his limb returned to human form.

The room was quiet for a time until Dragana spoke up. "He was right. I do want to kill him."

Edwin shot to his feet and looked coldly at the man before him. "What the hell is going on here!?"

"The night I disappeared, you remember the wolf that killed Lukas. It may have been me."

"You're one of them?" Dragana asked.

Viktor scoffed at the suggestion. "Spoken like a true wolf-hunter. You have no idea what we are."

"I am not about to debate this with you!" said Edwin. "They kill our people and we kill their's. We put an end to their curse and their suffering."

"And what position do you stand in to make that decision for them? Would you end my suffering, Edwin? I'll have you know I'm rather happy with my life."

"I don't care what they are. I care only that they are far too dangerous to treat as anything other than a threat. Now you stand in the middle of my house while my daughter sleeps in the next room. If you don't explain yourself right now, right damn now! I am going to do you in like so many wolves before you. Am I clear?"

Viktor rolled his one good eye and presented his locket. "Fresh wolfsbane, I carry it with me always. Respite from the curse. So long as I carry this, I am human. You've no worry from me."

Edwin sighed deeply and gestured for Dragana to lower her weapon. "Viktor... I once called you a friend. At the very least, I will listen to what you have to say."

And so, the werewolf took a seat and went over recent events with Edwin and Dragana, while tactically omitting specific elements related to a certain supposedly dead man. Why he killed Lukas, where he'd been the past year and the reasons for the recent surge in werewolf attacks.

When Viktor's tale came to an end, Edwin stared into his second cup of tea for the night while slowly stroking his beard. "You mean to tell me that you kept the wolves at bay for all those years?"

Viktor nodded. "They're more than just animals. They form their packs with hierarchy and certain rules. One such rule is that they respect the hunting grounds of other wolves and at over seventy years, I hold seniority over most. You don't find many old werewolves around with men and women like the wolfsguard to prune the ones that get too far over the hill."

Dragana, who'd finally removed her hand from the hilt of her sword, was next to speak up. "But why? Why do you live as a hermit? Why not join a pack like the others?"

Viktor shook his head at the idea. "Some of us embrace the beast within. Those are the pack wolves. Others suppress it and live among civilized folk while keeping a safe distance. You're looking at one of the latter and there are far more of us than you know. We learn how to hide it, and of course, we look out for our own."

"So," said Edwin. "What now? Why come back?"

"Simple. The hunts need to end, on both sides. I've some work to do tonight. I'm going to let every wolf in the area know that Ulfenmoor is my territory and you shouldn't have any more issues with the pack as a whole, so long as you don't venture into their territory. Perhaps a few stragglers here or there but nothing you can't handle."

"What about us?" Dragana asked. "What about the Wolfsguard."

"Miss Molotova, if you must know, the winds of change are blowing. We will have need of great warriors in the very near future. Until then, enjoy a much earned rest." Viktor adjusted his coat and started toward the door. "And Captain Bastaff, if you wouldn't mind," he said as he placed a small, rolled parchment on the table. "Be sure that your daughter sees this."

Edwin stared at the letter for a long moment before nodding in compliance. "Good luck Viktor. And thank you."

The evening faded into morning and things proceeded as normal with one notable exception. Edwin began organizing efforts to rebuild the damaged property near the edges of town. So many homes had been left in shambles because there was little point in repairing what would only be knocked down a week later.

The next night, Viktor found himself standing in a small clearing at the edge of town. It was here that his cabin once stood. Now it was simple a pile of blackened, scorched scraps of wood, buried under mounds of snow.

The sound of someone trudging toward him grew nearer but Viktor kept his eyes on the moon and his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

"You came back. I knew you would." Lavinia's voice drew Viktor's eyes back toward the ground. She was dressed in thick winter garb and her words were muffled by her mask.

"I had to. If I'd never left, you'd never have lost Rolf. I thought I'd be doing this village a favour by going."

From the moment Rolf's name was uttered, Lavinia averted her eyes and stared at the swirling flurries that scored across the ground. "It's okay, Mr.Viktor. It's not your fault. Rolf... Rolf made a mistake and... and I don't want to talk about Rolf right now. If that's okay with you, Mr.Viktor."

"No, it's not okay," Viktor replied.

Lavinia stood stunned for a moment but before she could utter another word, Viktor took her by the shoulders and smiled warmly.

"We're going to talk about Rolf, because he's not dead."

Lavinia stared back at Viktor and her eyes grew wide behind her mask. "Wh-what do you mean? We held a funeral and... He was carried away by a werewolf that night and-,"

"And he killed it," Viktor said, cutting in. "He's still out there somewhere Lavinia. I know, because I met him. He's the one that made me come back."

The girl's eyes lit up and her voice came out in a trembling warble. "Wh-where is he?"

"I don't know. But he'll be back. I don't know when but he will. He has things he needs to do out there but someday soon, he'll be back."

Lavinia's eyes lifted toward the moon and a few small tears of happiness welled up in her eyes. "D-did he say anything?"

"Mostly curse words and threats."

Lavinia laughed softly and wrapped her arms around Viktor, hugging him tightly. "Yeah, that sounds like him."