Where You Lead, I Will Follow Ch. 02

So he had started to plan his hunts. He hung at the local dive, checked out the local papers. Pimps. Drug-dealers. Wife-batterers. Once a killer-cop. That had been exhilarating: he'd seen the arrogance of the man turn to surprise and horror when Ben jumped him on the side of the road where he had stopped to relieve himself on his way home to beat his wife.

That kill had been a hard-won fight, the man having his baton with him to defend himself, and when he drew his gun, Ben barely avoided the shot. But he brought him down, and tore his throat out, and made sure he was dead before he slunk away.

For he could imagine what kind of werewolf that monster would become if he survived.

The trail led them finally to an uprooted tree. There was Dale, the would-be killer, curled up in misery in his hole. Ben and his followers nipped at him and he started awake. They watched him root around himself in search of a weapon and Ben warned his companions: he could have a new gun.

He had a dull imitation of a bayonet. It wouldn't cut, but it could still poke holes in their hides. In the darkness, Ben growled, and the others joined him.

Of course, the man froze and pissed himself. Ben laughed, but it came out as a cough.

In this werewolf form, he was much larger than an ordinary wolf, half again his size as a man, and much stronger. He dove in and bit down on a boot and pulled. The man kicked and the dark grey male on Ben's left caught the other foot, and they both pulled the human out from under the fallen tree.

He was hollering now, trying a deep voice, as if he could order them to stop, as if they were dogs, and women were bitches, and he was the Master of all nature around him. Ben nipped his butt and he got up to fight.

The human swung his dull knife around, as if he had a chance against two wolves and a Lycanthrope. When he lunged at the female, being the smaller one, Ben shoved forward and took the stab to his shoulder, knowing he would heal quickly, whereas the wolf would not. But now of course, blood had been drawn.

The dark grey leapt and bit the man's knife hand, causing him to drop the blade.

Dale screamed, shat himself, and ran. The chase was on.

Ben hadn't asked what the blond man's job had been, but he was fit, so they herded him far to the west and north, where the woods got deeper, and he stumbled and caught in every bush and bramble along the way, crying now. When the pack left the mated-pair's domain, the dark grey barked and they chased him another two hundred meters before Ben jumped and brought down his prey.

The pair looked at him, waiting. Dale lay on his stomach, exhausted by the chase, bloodied by rips and tears, crying. Ben climbed on the man's back, and bent down to gently take the man's exposed neck between his dripping jaws. Pressing his fangs against the skin, feeling the panicked pulse there, breathing his hot breath into the man's space, knowing the other was breathing him in, in that strange moment of intimacy where, utterly defeated, his prey surrendered and prayed to his deity, knowing he could not be saved. Ben savored the moment, enjoying the play of muscles under his paws as they stopped fighting and relaxed, not even trembling anymore.

"Leave her," he told the man in an unexpected rumble.

"Wha-- What?"

"Leave her or die."

The wolves barked and yipped at him. What was he doing? He risked damning himself! It was a risk, and he ached to break the man's neck, but as much as he'd been an asshole, he hadn't deserved death yet.

So the werewolf was careful now. He had nipped at his prey, careful not to break the skin; he could still show mercy, unlike the bum he had slain Saturday, whom he had recognized as the one who had tortured the Tully girls for years before Ben had left town, all those years ago.

He padded off the man's back and this one quickly turned and pushed himself away, eyes round in terror. He stank so much Ben snorted in disgust.

The pack waited to see what Ben would decide. He was not their leader per se, but the werewolf had enough of the wolf to belong, and enough of the human to dominate: such was the way.

The man finally understood he was given a chance. He got up on shaky legs and started north. Ben guessed he might find the road and follow it, maybe turn himself in, maybe disappear with the other bums and assholes that roamed the country. He was safer with humans than in the woods.

As Dale stumbled away, Ben turned back to his companions: a deer hunt?