Flint the Weredog

Prologue    
The old professor pushed his glasses back up his nose as they slipped dangerously low, to the point any little movement would make them fall. Sitting up looking at the screen of the laptop reading the last sentence. With a grunt of satisfaction he pressed the print option and sent the novel he had been working on these last six months via bluetooth to his printer in the other room. Listening out he heard the whirr of the printer.
As the printer spitted out his opus page by page. Professor Graham Lewis, one of the most eminent professors in biochemistry padded over to the door of his office. Walking out he entered a small sterile room with four hospital beds within, only two were occupied. The two patients within were hooked up to a  machine, tubes snaking from their arms into clear bags slowly filling with blood. The old professor whilst checking the machines noted with a nod they had finished their cycles, he switched off the machines, unhooking the bags collecting the bags now bulging with the precious blood, one more final check of the patients watching their chests rise and fall in a slow pattern, nodding his old grey haired head, happy the two patients were for the time being stable. Taking the bags of blood through to a small lab  he very carefully laid the bags within a centrifuge machine to spin it down. Leaving the machine to do its job, knowing in a few hours he would be able to extract the one blood factor in the spun down blood  using some artificial proteins of his own invention drawing out the one part in a million of the blood make up he was interested in. He reentered the sterile room hooking a fresh bag to each of the tubes from the patients murmuring to himself as he worked. Once happy all was hooked up and again the little pump started pulsating, pulling blood down the tubes into the empty bag, the professor started walking towards the door when a small groan behind made him stop. Walking quickly back to the furthest bed he heard the patient groan again. Filling a syringe with some solution out of a small glass phial he placed the needle into the arm of the waking patient. Just then the patient's eyes opened, a look of terror flicked across his face then eyes closed and normal breathing continued. Professor Graham checked his vital signs before moving on. He double checked the second patient as well to make sure he was properly sedated before leaving the sterile room, switching off the light, all was silent again, just the steady hum of machines slowly pulling out the blood from the patients.
Rechecking the blood bags in the centrifuge Professor Graham heard the printer come to an end and at the same time the doorbell rang. Closing the doors to the room with the patients and the small laboratory he made his way to the front door. Looking through the small peephole he smiled to himself as he saw the unmistakable uniform of the home help nurses. Opening the door he beckoned them in. 
“Hello Jane, Helen lovely to see you two please come in” 
Smiling at the old professor as they entered the house. They both set around their tasks with a lot of vim and vigour. One of them changed the dressing on the professor's leg where a weeping ulcer was soaking through the old dressing. The other one checking his tablets, replenishing those ones that needed replenishment, finally they stripped and changed his bed. The Professor watched all of this with faint amusement, when they had finished he thanked them
“That’s no problem, prof. Oh how’s your novel coming on? The fantasy one about the werewolves you said you were writing”
With his eyes now gleaming, Graham stood went next door and came back with a large bundle of printed paper. 
“It’s finished Jane. I'll tell you what I’ll make a cup of tea and I’ll read to you the first chapter or so what do you think?” 
Jane and Helen passed looks but then Jane nodded, this was the last call of the night so they could come off the clock and listen to some of the story, she knew he was so excited about writing it and even though fantasy stories was definitely not her sort of thing she thought why not, it will do him good to have someone listen to his story, the number of times he mentioned the book every time they came round, it was obvious he wanted a sounding board. An audience if you like, so yes she was sure it wouldn’t hurt to stay late and hear it. She would tell John, when she got home that she felt sorry for the old prof. and promised to stay a bit later to listen to his story. 
Helen, the other nurse, shrugged her shoulders, she was single with only an empty house to go back to so more than happy to kick back in this very comfortable warm house and save some money on electricity and gas at home. 
The old professor busied himself in the kitchen, returning with a wooden tray on which he placed an exquisite china tea set, placing the tray down he sat back down on his chair and poured out three cups of  tea. Passing over two of the cups to the carers. Blowing on his cup of tea, placing the cup carefully to one side he picked up the typed out manuscript, looking over his good at the two ladies sipping their tea. With a theatrical cough. He looked back down at his story, pushing his glasses firmly in place, an excitement running through him. He felt tonight would be the night he had been waiting for, for quite a while.
“Right. I’ll start from the beginning, it starts way back in the early years of the sixteenth century. 


  
Genesis

The professor settled into his chair pushing his glasses firmly up the bridge of his nose. Looking over at the nurses as they drained their cups of the tea he had made. Picking the manuscript up with his paper thin skinned hand. He looked up one more time the two nurses seemed very comfortable, clearing his throat, he  began reading out loud in a strong voice.

The year is 1705. This story is mainly about a young werewolf named Flint who will not be born for another eighty years. But first we shall witness the genesis of Flint's family. 
   Royston Ludovic, a cobbler and saddler was sitting in a bar nursing his pint. 
“Are you going to drink that Roy or just let it evaporate?”
Royston tore his eyes away from his pint, looking up at the ruddy face of the barkeeper. 
“Hah at your prices Brogan, I will definitely not let it evaporate but also I’m not downing it like a commoner. A beer is to be savoured, the freshness of the hops against the dryness of the barley is to be allowed to play over one palate. The joy of a pint is not the consuming of the alcohol till you lose the use of your faculties but more in the enjoyment of the whole package”. Royston sighs, staring morosely at his pint.
“Also I’ve had a real fallow week so can’t afford more than one pint anyway”. With a shrug he goes back to his pint taking a small sip. The barman with a snort and a shake of his large head, goes off to the other end of the bar where people with more money were happily spending their hard earned guldens. Royston contemplated his lot in life. He knows he is a good cobbler and a fair saddler but was stuck in a rut, his little village hemmed in by the river Rhine, near the border of Switzerland right in the darkest depths of the Bavarian Black Forest. Often he would dream about hiking over the mountains rising to the east into Switzerland which he considered must be a far better cultured place, a place that would embrace him, his skills as a leatherworker would surely blossom. Instead of being stuck in this back water making and mending shoes for woodchoppers, and saddles for beast of burdens mostly mules. He felt he was meant for more than this life.
 A sudden draught on his back sent an icy shiver through his body. Looking behind him he saw through the opened door a figure wrapped in a large hooded shawl striding up to the bar. Royston looked on with interest as the figure stopped at the bar, raising hands to the hood pulling it down and with a shake letting a large mane of thick black hair cascade out. Royston gave an involuntary gulp, the most stunning woman he had ever seen stood tapping her long fingers waiting for Brogan to acknowledge her. Royston picked up his pint, taking a massive gulp forgetting his want to make the pint last the night. 
“Hello barman I’m a little lost, my horse has thrown a shoe and is limping badly and my feet are killing me. Do you take borders? I have money. With that the woman bent down to a satchel on the floor opening a flap and taking out a leather pouch with a drawstring. Placing it down on the bar, it gave a heavy chink sound as it hit the wooden surface. Brogan the barman gave the woman a judicial look. Narrowing his eyes. Leaning over the bar. He hissed.
“We have no rooms sorry, the blacksmith is shut for the night, maybe best if you move on to the next village missy” looking again at the woman the barman leant in closer and in a voice barely more than a whisper, Royston standing so close was the only other patron sat in the bar to hear him. 
“I wouldn’t touch your tainted money, begone before trouble starts - the next village is a few miles east  from here. Stick your snout to the air I’m sure you will be able to sniff your way”
With that he stalked off to the other end of the bar. The woman sighed, collected up the money pouch and replaced it in her satchel. Pulling the shawl's hood up, throwing the satchel over her shoulder she strode out. Royston was taken aback, he had never known Brogan to turn away anyone before. Hell for a few gulden’s he would turf his sick mother out of her bed and sell her room for the night. So to turn away a paying customer and one so striking looking as that one he was at a loss to know what was happening. He looked down realising in all of the intrigue he had indeed gulped down his pint. With a sigh he picked up his thick overcoat from the chair next to him, pulling it tight around him to ward off the icy wind outside he walked towards the door. Stopping for a second dithering on the doorstep thinking about turning back, going up to the barman to find out why he had pushed the woman out like that. But deciding, Brogan must have his reasons with an internal shrug of the shoulders he pushed the door open and stepped out, the cold frigid air immediately robbed him of his breath as he pulled his overcoat closer around him he started to trudge back to his cheerless little home. On the way with his head bent down against the biting wind he very nearly missed the sight of the shawled woman walking a very obviously limping horse down the road towards the outskirts of the village. Once again Royston dithered, he was still unsure of the barman’s motive, something about the woman upset him greatly but Royston couldn’t let her walk what he knew was at least 10 miles over very tricky terrain to the next village, a place which was even smaller than this rotten little village. Trotting on at some speed Royston caught up with the shawled lady.
Calling out as he caught up. “Hey slow up, please sorry I think I may be able to help” 
The shawled figure stopped. Lowered her hood, turning she waited for Royston to trot up.
“If you’ve come along just to check if I’m leaving please don’t waste your time. I think your hostilier in the pub made it quite clear I’m not wanted here”
With blazing eyes and a look of sharp determination she started to pull her hood back up.
Royston with his hands up in a conciliatory way, nailed to the spot by the stare she gave him.
“ No no I’ve not come from the pub.. Well yes I did come from the pub but I wasn’t sent by the pub” Pausing looking at the figure in front, Hood fully replaced he couldn’t tell if she was listening, also realising he was making a hash of his answer he tried again taking a big breath, almost gasped after inhaling a lungful of painfully cold air he restarted.
“ What I meant was I don’t know why Brogan the pub owner was so horrible to you and I don’t know why he refused to help you. I do know it’s a good ten miles to the next village, with a horse that has thrown a shoe and in this cold weather I don’t think I could live with myself if I let you walk all that way through the forest. Please I have a small shop and rooms with a stable. I can put you up for the night and warm up your horse.”
The figure dropped her hood again, eyes narrowed with a look of suspicion but maybe tinged with a want to get warm, she eventually gave a small nod turning her horse round she started to follow Royston. 
Royston walked a few steps ahead, kept his counsel not wanting to bombard the lady with questions although there were many he wanted to ask, keeping a steady pace he led the mysterious lady and a limping horse back to his little house. Pushing the door open beckoning the woman to go in, he took charge of the horse taking the handsome steed around the back to his small stable where he would house the mules and ponies he was making leather goods for. Luckily the stable was empty at the moment so plenty of room for the poor horse. As Royston removed the saddle and tackle, rubbing the horse down and giving him some feed in a bucket he couldn’t help but notice, the horse had been through the wars recently. Deep raw looking scratches to its flank and a small tear above the right ear. Royston poured some water in a pot and bathed the cuts as best he could, thinking he would look at him properly in the morning. Just as he was leaving he noticed the saddle he had removed and hung on his wooden saddle horse prior to rubbing the horse down, going over to it now with his lamp. Immediately he was struck by the style, holding his lamp closer he could see beautiful tooled marks. He also noted the fine hand stitching and the suppleness of the leather. Knowing this wasn’t made by a humble saddle maker in a backwater village like his village. It was made by a master leatherworker. Feeling the leather again he could tell that it had some age to it, the leather although well  looked after and had been mended several times it was old, possibly very old. Leaving the horse to settle in the stable he walked back round to the front of his shop, stumbling into what he laughably called his front room, stamping his feet and blowing on his ice cold fingers, he saw the lady with her shawl now off, standing in front of the only source of heat in the small room. A dying fire in the hearth of an open fire. The last few embers were spluttering barely a light. Royston went to attend to the fire, raking it getting the last few embers to reignite the fresh kindling he laid on top and when it was burning nicely adding a few small logs to get the fire properly burning before adding a large log on top to keep the burn going through the next few hours. Moving around the room he busied himself making a small meal of leftover meat and chutneys he had in the larder and then hanging a kettle over the fire he heated some water to make a hot drink. Beckoning at last to the lady to sit down he presented the meagre offerings and drink to her sitting down at the table opposite her. She sat looking over the table at him and with a smile ate the food. When she finished, thanking him and in a voice strong but weary she eventually spoke
“ This is very kind of you, you were right,  I would have struggled to get the horse to the next village. I’m not sure if old Pepps would have made it. So I am very grateful. I will obviously pay you for the meal and boarding costs''
Royston shook his head “ No, no payment. I know you must be cold and tired please, make yourself comfortable, my bed is round the back, there is fresh water in the bowl. I’ve put some hot water from the kettle in it as well. Soapwort is hanging in a bundle by the sink. If you rub it hard it does make a lather. Sorry I don’t have anything better than that.”
With a small smile the lady stood. 
“My name is Victoria Constance, my friends just call me Vicky.”
“Hello Vicky my name is Royston Ludovic, I’m known as Roy.” Smiling, they formally shook hands. 
“By the way Vicky uhmm I’m a saddler and a cobbler. I couldn’t help admiring your saddle. I know all of the saddlers around this area and I must say I have never seen such exquisite markerty or stitching, the leather so soft and supple. Is it a deer hide? Such brilliant work. Sorry for my professional interest.”
Vicky with a wan smile. 
“Yes it is beautiful isn’t it, a product of a bygone times I am afraid. My family were saddle makers in a large city north of here many years ago. I trained myself in the art of leather working. It's not deer, it's well it doesn’t really matter what its made of but yes it is my prized possession. Oh and my satchel.”
Suddenly Vicky jolted to a stop. 
“Oh god my satchel, did you see it on the saddle?, god please don’t say I left it in that miserable little pub”.
Royston stooping down picked up a leather satchel he had placed by the door as he had entered. 
“This one you mean?”
“Thank god I would have been lost without that. Thanks Roy for everything I think I will turn in now.”
“Of course Vicky, I’ll just bank the fire to keep it warm for the night”.
As Royston made himself busy again, getting the fire banked up so it would burn slowly through the night, tidying away the couple of plates and cups, his mind kept going back to that saddle. Where and when was it made? If Vicky was a member of a family of leather makers then why hadn’t he heard of them? She had said she came from north of here, so maybe over the Rhine out of the forest or maybe even over the mountain range from neighbouring Switzerland. In which case what had brought her all this way and finally what was it about her that unsettled Brogan to such a degree that he refused her money? Ah well all questions that may get answered in the morning. 
As he settled in the hard wooden chair, using his overcoat as a cushion and a leather apron over him to try to keep the worst of the draughts coming in under the ill fitting door,  he tried to settle into some sort of sleep. Just as he was dozing off he awoke to see Vicky standing by the bedroom door. 
“Sorry, are you awake Roy, I can’t let you try to sleep on that chair all scrunched up like that, without at least giving you something to warm you up properly”. With that Vicky padded across the room to her leather satchel, rooted around till she found what she was looking for then walking back to the table in the middle of the room she put down a bottle of brown liquid on the table. Retrieving  the two cups that Royston had just washed and put away she poured a small amount into each cup then sitting down and beckoning Royston to sit with her she took a small sip of her drink, closing her eyes as she did and letting out a sigh. Royston, intrigued, stood up stretching trying to get the stiffness out of his limbs, he eventually walks over and sits down, picking his cup up doubtfully he takes a sniff and immediately his eyes water as the heavy odour of the drink hits his nose. He raises the cup and takes a sip the same way as he just saw Vicky did. The effect was startling. He thought he had swallowed hot embers from the fire, the heat of the liquid as it coursed down his throat into his stomach. He started coughing and spluttering. Vicky smiling at him reassured him “It’s fine Roy try again this time hold it a few seconds in your mouth before you swallow and let the warmth into your system. It will I guarantee be worth it”
Roy tried again taking a mouthful then letting it sit in his mouth before letting it slide down his throat. Knowing the effect it was going to have this time it was a pleasant warming experience with a look of contentment he let out a sigh “ Ahh wow what is this drink? It’s cold to the touch yet it warms like a hot cup of tea, how is that possible?”
“It’s something I picked up on my travels. I believe it came from the wild end of the British isles over the sea in the top end called Scotland, they call the drink Whisky or scotch. It’s a strong alcohol drink so don’t want too much but as you say it will warm you up on the coldest of days” 
with that she refilled there cups and holding hers up she said  “ I toast you Royston, a proper life saver”
Raising his glass Royston chinked his cup to Vickys and took a larger glug of the whisky drink, feeling the heat as it galloped down his throat. His eyes watered but he didn’t cough or splutter this time. 
Looking at Royson over the table, Vicky started to talk, stopping then continued “I know you have questions, I know you must be wondering where I came from and why I ended up here. To be fair I wasn’t planning to stop but when old Pepps threw a shoe off when he was trying to keep up…  uhmm well when we were coming through the woods last night, I knew I had to stop for help. I slept in the woods last night till sunrise. Knowing today I would be ok to walk in after a change of clothes. My other one well that doesn’t matter they were lost in transit” Stopping giggling a bit, refilling their cups and taking a mouthful with eyes shut for a second she continued “Lost in transit, that's a good way of putting it! Anyway, as I was saying I keep a change of clothes for that very reason, I noticed poor Pepps was in a bad way and started walking him. Luckily we only walked a few hundred yards before I saw a sign pointing to your village, and well here I am” 
With a shrug she took another sip of the fire water, Royston had decided to call the whisky drink.
Emboldened maybe by the fire water or by the fact that Vicky seemed like she wanted to open up a bit Royston looking directly at her asked “Ok that explains why you stopped here in the first place, although not what happened to your clothes and how Pepps your horse got so many scratches to his flank and a small tear to his ear as well as throwing a shoe. It doesn’t explain where you are from originally and why Brogan threw you out and oh yes why you have such an expensive old saddle and to that point a beautifully made leather satchel, and a drink I have never heard of, you say comes from all places Scotland which is over the sea on a different island. I’m sorry I hope I didn’t offend you. I’ve never seen anyone like you before and well you are stunning….” 
Royston going beetroot red stood up turning his back on Vicky feeling just like he did when he turned thirteen and thought he was madly in love with the butcher's daughter Olga who was five years older than himself, he remembered at the time seeing Olga on her own at the counter of the butcher and  tried to tell her his feelings. Just for her to laugh in his face and tell all her friends afterwards what the saddler's little boy had said to her. It took a long time for that shame to disappear and now it all came flooding back.
“Sorry it’s the firewater gone straight to my head I must of offended you terribly”
Feeling a hand on his back he turned to see Vicky looking at him smiling, her eyes soft and with the smile she held his hand shaking her head. “No I’m not offended, It’s you who should be offended I will tell you everything in the morning but for now I’ll tell you some of it. Hopefully that will suffice, As for saying I’m stunning, well how could that offend!” 
Laughing she sat back down. 
“I assure you I’m not looking my best at the moment, but maybe you noticed something I recently changed uhmm well the day after a certain time of the month I do get an extra glow about me that people notice” Pausing looking down for a moment she continued
“I think that’s what Brogan noticed. You find with barmen especially in these smaller villages they pick up on a lot of vibes, they see so many types going through their place of work, they can tell with unerring accuracy what type of people are in front of them. I think as soon as I stood in front of him so soon after uhmm well after my night in the forest he knew what I was”
Royston looked up sharply or at least as sharply as he could with half a bottle of firewater galloping around his body. Now she said something important, what was it? Ahh “he knew what I was” What did that mean? Roy tried to get a sentence out that would make sense, a question which Vicky would have to answer but instead all that came out was slurred nonsense. Oh god what has she given me to drink? Have I been poisoned?
Royston had been drunk many times before, trying some of Brogans stronger brews when he was flushed with money but never had a drink made him insensible like this before. Smiling again at Roy, Vicky helped him up. If at this point Roy wasn’t so inebriated that he was beyond conscionable thinking he would have been frankly amazed how easily Vicky picked him up and carried him into the bedroom, lying him down. Vicky then walked back into the front room next to the fire, bending down she gave the banked fire a bit of a stir adding another log, then checking Roy was indeed fast asleep she got on her hands and knees, turned around a couple times before bending into what seemed an impossible shape in front of the fire. With head tucked in she gave a pleasurable half growl sound and she also fell asleep.
Roy awoke to a horrible banging sound at his door, looking around half asleep with a chronic headache he at first didn’t know where he was or what had happened. Looking around he saw his familiar bedroom. Thinking god what did I drink at Brogan’s bar last night he gingerly got to his feet. Feeling his head thinking my head is banging like a banshee.  After a few minutes his head eased but the banging persisted, he also heard voices, deep gruff male voices emanating from his front room. Remembering about Vicky, her cryptic clues about her life and the firewater drink which knocked him out, he stumbled out of the bed. What was all that banging? Pushing his bedroom door open he saw Brogan with a huge spear, the wicked metal point on the end  gleaming in the half light of the front room. Turning his head he saw Vicky behind the table holding a chair up trying to hold off the attack of Brogan. Running into the front room he stood in front of Brogan and the other three big men he now noticed standing behind him. 
“What the devil do you think you are doing? Stop this at once, how dare you break into my house and attack my guest. Get out now!”
Brogan eyes wide, perspiration running down his red ruddy face. “Get back Royston, get out of our way, I told this devil creature to leave the village and when I heard you took pity on her I knew she would weave her magical skills over you and seduce you. She is here to destroy us, just as her ancestors tried to destroy our families before. Now move and let me put this cur down!”
Brogan launched himself towards Vicky knocking Royston to the ground. Plunging the wicked looking metal tipped shaft towards Where Vicky stood holding a chair up. Royston half knocked out by the fall, tried to grab the shaft of wood as it plunged towards Vicky, suddenly it stopped, Royston looking up could see the shaft inches above him, looking back along the shaft he saw Brogan grunting with exertion, thinking oh god he’s impaled Vicky to the wall looking the other end he saw Vicky holding the shaft of the spear and pushing it down she stamped on the metal tip snapping it off. She then proceeded to walk pushing the broken spear and Brogan back until she was out of the corner of the room then whipping the stick up wrenching it out of Brogans strong callused hands she threw it to one side then with a howl she ran towards Brogan and the three other men standing at the doorway knocking them over as if they were just pegs in a game of skittles. Once outside she ran towards the dark brooding forest at an incredible speed and was soon out of sight. Grunting Brogan stood up,  walked past the still prone shape of Royston, looked behind the thrown down chair he bent down retrieving the spear tip. Looking carefully at it he pocketed it. Royston at this point sat up looking at Brogan shaking his head trying to dislodge the last part of fog that remained in head. 
“What the hell did you do? Why attack a lady like that and try to ram a spear into her?”
“That was no lady Roy, that was the devil spawn, a creature not of this human realm. It needed to be destroyed. You saw what she did to my spear? You saw how she knocked over the four of us like we were made of nought but paper? If I hadn’t come she would have devoured you in your sleep then attacked the rest of the village. At least now she knows we will protect ourselves
”Royston shaking his head in disbelief. He did see that Vicky was a lady of great strength, maybe stronger than a person of her size and stature had the right to be. But even when escaping she was only intent on getting away. Vicky, Roy presumed, could have easily destroyed the men blocking her way. Instead she just knocked them flying like skittles,just intent on escaping into the forest
“Right I want to put my house back in some order. I want you to leave right now.”
“Ok Roy we will leave, in the harsh light of the proper morning you will see, I was right, you will be out from under her spell and you will come over to the pub and thank us for saving not only your life but you eternal soul, come chaps leave him to gather his senses let’s go back for a celebratory pint.”
With much back slapping and already claiming a victory against creatures of the netherworld the four men walked out of Royston house. Checking they had indeed left and were heading towards the pub and not towards the forest. Roy picked up the fallen chair. Looked with interest at the broken remains of the spear, noted it was made of a solid piece of fresh green birch wood, holding it he stamped on one end trying to break it the same way he saw Vicky snap it, it yielded a small way but didn’t snap. Shaking his head he dropped it back to the ground. Then collecting Vicky's satchel and replacing the half-drunk bottle of firewater he went out in the half gloom of the early morning. Walking round to the stables he saw Pepp the stallion looking at him with what seemed a slightly bemused look in his eyes. Looking down at the horse's feet he located the one that had thrown a shoe. Looking through his desk drawer he found his collection of horseshoes he had collected over the years, trying them next to the stallions foot he found one that seemed a good fit. With the small amount of farrier skills he had picked up assisting the smithy over the years he was able to fashion the shoe into some semblance of proper shape and after cleaning the hoof, filing off loose part of horn he tacked it on. Walking Pepps around the small yard he was satisfied he would be able to walk on it safely enough. He expertly replaced the saddle and tackle, mounting the stallion he made sure the rein was lined up properly, giving Pepps a little nudge in its ribs with his foot, they trotted out.
Heading towards the dark brooding shape of the forest, Royston urged Pepps on. The horse's ears pricked suddenly broke into a canter, maybe he senses his owner somewhere in the gloom of the trees, Royston thought as he let the horse find its own way just going along for the ride. As they reached the first tree line, Royston started calling out Vicky’s name. 
“It’s ok Vicky it’s me Roy, I have your satchel and horse, please show yourself. I’ll help you anyway you want. Please Vicky I’m here with Pepps. The horse stopped seeming to smell the air then taking a sharp left it started again to trot at a greater speed. Royston had never seen a horse do this before, it seemed to be crossed with a bloodhound! Suddenly the horse whinnied rearing up and upended Royston off the back onto the forest floor. Momentarily stunned. Royston lay there looking up at the circle of trees above him. Groaning thinking his head can’t take much more of this today, he sat up to see Pepps pawing the ground head down. Every sinew of its body tight, it suddenly reared up again and then Royston saw what had caused the horse to react so violently. Out of the morning mist, with heads lowered and small growls emanating from five throats, a pack of wolves started to circle the horse and the now very alert Royston. The horse still up on its rear haunches brought its front hoofs down hard narrowly missing the front wolf which darted out of the way just in time. A little more wary the wolves convened a few metres back then with a sudden rush they galloped past the rearing horse straight towards Royston. 
Royston was rooted to the spot he had only seen glimpses of wolves before, usually solitary creatures they kept to themselves, rarely attacking humans. But Royston had to concede he had stumbled into their domain, onto their stomping ground. As they rushed towards him Pepp head down butted one sending it crashing into a tree and got a good stamp on another pushing it into the soft forest floor. Those two limped off to lick their wounds. The other three though still barrelled towards Royston, he turned and ran breathing hard. He shed his coat off to gain extra speed.Weaving in and out of the trees, he could hear the wolves behind him keeping up easily. Blindly he ran, just hoping to god the forest would open up and he would find a dwelling, anything knowing woodchoppers had a number of shacks dotted through the forest. But too late with a despairing look behind he saw the front wolf a few feet behind him, it leant back on its haunches then sprang forward landing on Royston back, knocking him flat to the ground. He turned over and tried to grapple the wolf off of him but a searing pain in his arm knew the wolf had him, just hoping for the blessed release of consciousness so he wouldn’t know the end was coming. Royston couldn’t believe this was how his life was going to end. He didn’t even find Vicky to tell her what he felt he needed to say. Never had he felt such a strong connection to anyone before. Even though he had only seen her a few hours earlier, he knew he needed her in his life. Unfortunately that life was soon to be permanently foreshortened. Just as the other wolves arrived to finish him off in his darkening vision he thought he saw a horsed figure galloping in with a huge stick in its hand. Ahh help is here, you are just a little too late. Then the lights went out. Royston lay breathing no more under the weight of a huge black wolf. 
Vicky galloped in on Pepp, with a swoosh of the stick she had in her hand she knocked the wolf on Royston off. Jumping off the back of Pepp. She walked towards the wolves. They backed off, she threw her head up and let out a long howl. The three wolves cowered. Stepping forward she went towards the biggest wolf, the one that had attacked Royston he bared his teeth, shackles up, with incredible speed Vicky ran headlong into him grabbing the wolf around the neck and swinging him round threw him against a tree where he fell with a sickening crash. The wolf shakily got to his feet, padded over to Vicky and sat down next to her head bowed it licked her shoes then with a look at his companions he limped off into the forest. The other two wolves looking back at their conqueror slunk off after their leader.
Vicky shaking her head, went to Pepp soothing him as he was still in a heightened mood. Lifting his hoof she saw the shoe that Royston had fashioned for him and with a sigh she went over to his prone body. Lifting him up easily as if he was a bag of flour she lay him across the back of Pepps and turning the horse round walked him into the forest.
They moved through the forest for several minutes Vicky holding the reins of the large horse biting her bottom lip knowing now what she was about to do will change everything for her. On the trudged until  they reached a big clearing next to a deep pool of water on a corner of a river that had gouged out the pool from the soft forest floor as the river itself forced by harder rocks turned a sharp corner. Vicky lifting Royston down, laying him flat on his back then after bathing in the pool drying herself off, she rooted through her bag brought out the whisky, took a large mouthful closing her eyes as she swallowed breathing in the intoxicating fumes she then poured some on the damaged arm of Royston bathing the wound in the strong alcohol, opening a side pocket of her satchel she pulled out a thin bladed knife safely ensconced in its leather sheaf, she pulled out the knife and letting the light play along its metallic edge, enjoying the way the light refracted off it’s wickedly sharp edge. Eventually she held it over Royston and with surgical skill she cut a longitudinal cut into his good arm letting fresh blood ooze out then turning her head away so not to see, she sliced across her arm letting her blood pour out. Placing her arm on top of Royston’s she lay down with him, their bloods intermingling. Vicky pushed her arm down hard onto his to assure the best possible transference of her blood to him. 
Royston jolted up,ahh the wolf is on me oh god I’m pinned I can’t move. Staring wildly round he saw what he thought was the weight of the wolf was in fact a thick blanket, sat upright properly now he could see he was in a proper bed. The likes he had never seen before. The mattress was so soft.The corners of the bed had four wooden pillars rising up and above his head a thick cloth cover attached to each pillar. He had heard of four poster beds before but presumed he wouldn’t ever lay down in one.  Lifting his arm he saw a large white bandage over his left arm. His right arm was similarly dressed. He was wearing what seemed to be a nightdress looking to his side he saw a large jug of water and a glass. Pouring himself a glass he stood up but immediately had to sit down again hard as the blood left his legs. He felt like his limbs were made of solid rock, too heavy to lift or hold his weight.
“Hello, anyone out there? Hello, where am I?”
Royston croaked his voice so weak, his throat like sandpaper. He took a gulp of the water from the glass and was about to try shouting again when the door opened and in walked Vicky. 
Her thick black hair pinned back, wearing a dress and holding a plate of hot steaming food.
“Ahh you’re awake, how are you feeling? Here have some broth, it will help give you some needed energy. Placing the broth on a small table next to the bed, she got Royston to sit up then plumping his pillow she pulled the table over his legs, passed him a spoon. Then looking down at him she gave him a wan smile.
“Eat up then rest, I’ll be in later to collect your dish and then we can talk. I’ll tell you what you need to know. What happened and what it means to you, but now just rest. You will find if you let your body rest it will repair itself so much quicker. Anyway I have things I need to attend to so I’ll take my leave now”
Royston wanted to grab her arm, ask her not to leave but then the smell of the broth hit home and all thoughts of anything else soon left him as he ravenously fell onto the heavenly food, never had he eaten anything so filling, so tasteful as this broth. Vicky smiling took her leave, closing the door she leant against it thinking oh dear god what have I done? How will he react when he finds out the truth? Oh well what has been done cannot now be undone. With that last thought Vicky walked off to the barn to check on Pepps. Back in the bedroom feeling replete after the meal, Royston fell back into a fitful sleep, his dreams punctuated with disturbing imagery of a kaleidoscope of colours and smells, he could see wisps of scented mist like substances as he ran full pelt through the forest following the trail of mist the smell of which seem to fill his brain with an explosion of feverish excitement. In his dream he carried on this running till at last in front of him was Vicky looking down at him saying good boy you found me good boy then bending down her face distorted but the aura of her smell and the sensation as she ran her hand over his excited body became almost unbearable, Royston letting out small whimpering sounds. A strange swishing noise behind Royston made him look behind to see a long white tail wagging. Looking down at a puddle on the ground he sees the face of a wolf looking back at him. Sitting back up he screamed into the air
“Arghhhh what have I become?” 
Holding his hand up shakily in front of his face he was relieved to see his five human fingers. Slumping back down in the bed bemused by the dream, presuming the trauma of his near death encounter with a wolf pack just tipped his mind over the edge.
lying there on the incredibly soft mattress looking up at the cloth canopy above him,Royston noticed for the first time a pictorial scene stitched  into the cloth. A scene of wolves chasing a deer through the forest, smiling to himself thinking damn wolves everywhere! This time Royston fell into a dreamless sleep.
The next time Royston woke up it was to see Vicky sitting at the end of the bed, a big book in her hand reading it by the light pouring in through the large glass window.
“Hello Vicky, uhmm I don’t know what to say. Thankyou for saving my life, and for bringing me here. Where ever here is''
Vicky putting the book down after earmarking the page she was reading looked across at Royston, with a radiant smile which turned into a nervous look, biting her bottom lip she internally prepared herself to tell Royston what  she had to do to save his life.
“Good morning Roy, why don’t you have a wash and get dressed then when you are ready come downstairs to the front room. I’ll send Dorita up in about a quarter of an hour to show you the way. I’ll prepare a meal and we can talk afterwards”
Royston, thinking that sounded heavenly, agreed, looking around he spotted his clothes all washed and neatly folded on a corner table. Next to a large porcelain bowl and jug with steamy hot water in. Vicky, smiling again at Royston, walked out the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. In there she saw Dorita chopping a skinned prepared rabbit into quarters and placing the bits into a pot of steaming broth hanging over a large open fire. 
Seeing Vicky enter the room she put the chopper down and giving a little nod to her boss she queried 
“How is the gentleman upstairs Maam, has he fully recovered from his injuries?”
“Yes Dorita I think he has, he’s getting changed now and I told him you will go up and collect him in a short while, I’ll finish off the broth and serve it, if you could show him into the drawing room. I think we will eat there”
Dorita gave another small bow, then watching Vicky’s face closely with a shrewd look she asked
“Talking about getting changed, have you spoken to him yet about what happened and what you did in the woods to save his life last week?”
Sighing, Vicky shook her head.
“No I haven’t yet. I kept steeling myself to say something, but I could tell he had the fever upon him. The blood heat rising from him.I too was very weak and had to sleep off the effect of losing so much blood, so quickly. I will tell him all after we have had our meal. I hope he realises it was his only chance of surviving.”
Slumping onto the bench seat next to the rudimentary wooden work table. Vicky felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, biting her bottom lip, a sure sign she was worried. Dorita looking down at her boss,with a look of empathy she reassured Vicky
“He will understand Maam if I’m not too bold to say. I think he would forgive you anything. After the story you told me. I know no man who would risk everything for a woman he had only met the night before. He must have known the dangers of the forest and yet he went after you, that is one man who will understand I am sure.” 
Pausing for a second then with another shrewd look Dorita continued
“Strange for you not to grab your satchel as you fled, I mean you never go anywhere without that do you? You had already knocked over the stupid meatheads trying to bar your way, you could have picked up the bag? Ahh well I suppose you were too intent on escaping”
With another small nod, Dorita walked out, Vicky watching Dorita’s back as she walked out was lost in a maelstrom of thought’s, she knew what Dorita was quite bluntly hinting at. Had she left the bag behind on purpose hoping Roy would pick it up and try to find her? At the time she convinced herself she had left it in the heat of the moment, not wanting any man to have another go at stabbing her with that silver pointed spear, she knew straight away when Brogan shouldered his way in that he had silver on his person, the smell of that cursed metal burnt the back of her throat. So yes she could argue that she wasn’t in the clearest mindset as she had run. But the crux of the matter is she had been in worse scrapes before and always left with her precious satchel. She couldn’t deny she felt something for Royston, he seemed such a good man, helping her when everyone else shunned her. She was also attracted to him, when he was sleeping off the effect of the blood transference she had snuck into his room a couple of times and just watched him sleeping, sometimes jerking and on more than one occasion curling up tucking his head down towards his leg, scratching his ear with his hand, she knew the blood had done its job in saving his life but she also knew it had done to him the change that she will now have to explain that will affect the rest of his life.
Giving the broth one final stir, she grabbed a ladle and transferred a generous amount into two bowls before carrying them through into the drawing room. Sat down at the table in the middle of the room was Royston, looking spruced up and properly alert he stood smiling at Vicky as she entered. Breathing in deeply closing his eyes he let the heady aromas of the broth wash over him with a contented smile he sat back down again as Vicky placed the bowl in front of him. 
In silence they ate the broth dipping big chunks of bread which was also on the table to mop up the last of the juice, eventually pushing the now empty bowl away from him. Royston placed his hand over his stomach. Looking over at Vicky he stated
“Wow, that is the best broth I have ever eaten, I remembered it from last night, it is so full of flavour, it's superb.”
Smiling at Royston over the table, Vicky took a deep breath, thought right this it. 
“Uhmm Roy, earlier you thanked me for saving your life. What I need to tell you now may make you think otherwise. I didn’t save your life. I brought your life, you were basically dead. Your heart had stopped, I did the only thing I could, I infused you with my blood, luckily your heart may have stopped but your blood was fresh enough to allow my blood to combine with yours and restart your heart. So like I said, I cheated death by making you into what I am.” Stopping and looking away her heart banging like a drum
Royston stood up walked around the table to Vicky, putting his hand on her shoulder turning her slightly with a small smile he said
“It’s ok Vicky I know what you did, I worked it out. I know now why Brogan was so scared of you, I remembered him saying you can sniff your way home, I also saw how you dispatched four of the biggest men from my village. Knocking them over like skittles in a skittle yard. So I knew you were not human. When I was dreaming upstairs of wolves. Smells and sounds, I knew then I had changed. So you are a werewolf and I guess I am a werewolf? Please tell me if I’m wrong.”
Royston with an enquiring look in his eyes returned to his chair.
Vicky nodding her head “Yes yes you're right, I’m the last of my pack of werewolves. Parents died many years ago, brothers slain by humans. I have lived here on my own for many decades now.It’s not been too bad a life these last few decades.The villagers eventually saw me not a threat to them but an ally, I am their prize if you like. I provide them with leather goods I make from deer, boar and other wild animals I hunt every full moon, which they sell to visitors at eye watering costs. Also I have in the past protected the village from outside forces, they know I mean them no harm,none of my family did.  Unfortunately that message didn’t get through for many years, too late for my brothers.I had to watch three brothers killed with silver tipped weapons, when out hunting deer. You see what you may think you know about us is based on how werewolves lived hundred years or more ago. The first werewolves were indeed red of tooth and fearsome animals which killed everything and anything subsequently were hunted to near extinction. Now though the very few of us surviving are solitary animals trying to blend in or like me be as helpful as possible for the humans in the local area. I can fill you in over the next few weeks about the history of my race, now though I must tell you what will happen to you. What it truly means to become a werewolf.”
Royston could sense Vicky had stopped for now. This was so much to take in, just a week ago he was a lowly saddle maker cum cobbler and now he was a supernatural creature, not fully human and knowing his body will transform itself into a wolf creature everytime the moon is at its fullest. He didn’t really know what to think. The one thing though he was sure of was there must have been a reason Vicky walked into his village that night, and fate alone must have known why he helped her and she subsequently returned to him his life albeit in this new form. So yes it was going to be hard but he was in it now and he will always be by Vicky’s side, that was what he knew for sure. The rest he would pick up on the way. 
Vicky then proceeded to tell Royston what being a werewolf really meant, she told him that as everyone knows they fully transform into wolf shape when the moon is at its fullest. But people did not know that as the moon wanes so do their wolf strengths, as the moon shrinks they become more and more human-like in strength and abilities. But as the new moon begins waxing so does their strengths again increase. Until once again they are at full strength just before the fullest of the full moon. He will notice those few days, he will be able to do incredible feats of strength and agility. His whole body will be fizzing. He may find it unsettling to start with but as Vicky told him just embrace the power you have at those times, you will grow to love the feeling of invincibility. When you do change into a wolf, another thing humans believe which is untrue you become purely base animal with no compunction other than killing. That is not the case you will still have all of your human thoughts and memories and most importantly human restraints and moral values, you won’t turn into a thoughtless killing machine. Roy held his hands up at this point wanting some points clarified. 
“You do kill though? You kill deer and boars, other wild animals, that’s what you told me?”
Pausing, Vicky looked very carefully at Royston.
Nodding conceding his point she said
“Yes you will kill, you are after all a carnivore, the wolves want to hunt and to kill is powerful. But this is the big but, if you are of a good moral standing you will know what’s wrong from right, we kill to feed and to bring back pelts for leather works. We don’t kill for the joy of killing and we don’t kill humans. Not ever, oh and we do die, we are not immortal. The full moon revitalises our system, Renews our blood. It slows up the ageing considerably but won’t halt it completely. One day you will turn into a wolf and your system will not renew. It will stop and you die as a wolf”
Pausing Vicky stroked her leather satchel. 
“You asked what pelt, my saddle and this satchel was made of. It was the skin of my father, he was 375 years old. I am 130 years old so hopefully I will live another 200 years. You who’s system will change after the first transformation will have 300 odd years in you. You will outlive me. My brothers made the saddle and I made the satchel. It is the most important thing in my life.”
So the Ludovic pack is established, I could tell you how Royston found his first change into wolf, how between the two of them love grew and grew, till Vicky agreed to take Royston name as her own and they became Mr and Mrs Ludovic. I could go into great detail about how Royston worked so hard to be accepted by the villagers, who very well may have been disquieted by the fact they now have two wolf people within their midst. But as I said before it is important to know where the pack is started, it is not the subject of this novel. So let’s leave the loving couple to setup their lives and to start a family to bring into the world and now instead jump forward to the start of the story proper.