Rulf lifted the woman’s lip with the tip of his sword to reveal a blunt pair of cuspids. “Human”, he growled. The snarling noise made by wolves betrayed the presence of another corpse, this time a man, judging from his clothing. Half of his head was brutally torn off; the bite-marks on his neck came from no beast known to man. Rulf recited an incantation and watched the wolves lower their heads and with soft whimpering sounds, scamper off into the forest.
“Tis the devil’s work.”, Morag spat on the immaculate ground. A mere two decades ago, who would’ve thought that such demonic creatures would come to exist? Before, it was only wolves and ruffians that prowl behind the trees. Now there are Vampires, Werewolves and the worst of the lot, the Gragonia. None claimed to have set eyes upon the fiend but the village people come to find their children missing from their beds– blood, bones and entrails telling the tale of their gruesome fate.
Rulf raised a metal-clad arm to silence his companion. His heightened sense of hearing enabling him to apprehend what the burly veteran warrior cannot. He picked up a rustling sound… a creature – heavy yet swift and of prodigious built. He nodded.
“Gragonia!” Morag let out a lusty battle cry, blades hissing from their sheaths.
What dark creatures lurk
In the treacherous thickets
Of a writer’s mind.