Startled, Glen turned sharply, only to see the bellies of the three black boars burst open, a spray of foul blood splattering across the ground—and over both himself and his beast.

  A coarse, thunderous laugh followed. The giant, pointing with a grimy finger, jeered in a guttural roar:

  “Ha-ha-ha! Foolish human! Even ruined, I will never give them to you! Ha-ha-ha…”

  The stench and the clammy stickiness upon his skin filled Glen with revulsion. He froze as though bound by some spell, remaining motionless for several long seconds before stirring only when the giant’s laughter faded.

  With slow, deliberate movement, he wiped the blood from his face and hair, then turned back, his eyes fixed upon Abu with a gaze utterly devoid of emotion.

  The beast too bared its fangs, fury flashing in its eyes.

  “What are you staring at me for? Yes, I did it! What can you do? Abu is strong! You cannot defeat Abu!”

  The giant rose to its full, towering height, looming over Glen with smug delight.

  “What can I do?” Glen’s voice was low, but steely. “I can take your life.”

  Even as the words fell, the earth beneath his feet erupted. Sparse black fur sprouted across his body, his visage twisted into something feral, claws and fangs gleaming. It was a restrained lupine transformation—enhancing his might to the utmost without destroying his clothes.

  Abu had expected retaliation, yet the sheer speed of Glen’s onslaught caught him wholly off guard. Before he could react, searing pain lanced through his eyes, his vision drowned in a flood of scarlet.

  Blinded, terror seized him. One hand clutched his ruined eyes, the other flailed wildly, hurling fists into empty air. But each swing only left him open to fresh agony—the tearing of flesh across arms, chest, belly, and back.

  “No! Stop! Curse you, wretched human! Abu is in agony!”

  But Glen did not relent. He was searching—testing the giant’s hide for weakness. At last, through repeated strikes, he found it: the belly, softer than the rest, though still nearly as tough as stone.

  As his claws tore into that vulnerable spot, a dread unlike any Abu had ever known took hold. He realized he was about to be gutted alive.

  “Please, stop! Abu was wrong! No—no!”

  With a final howl of terror, the giant toppled once more into the very pit that had ensnared him earlier, his cries echoing with unending fear.

  Glen cast one last, cold glance at the arrogant brute. Then he turned, shaking the fresh blood from his claws, muttering with a frown, “Why does nothing ever go smoothly?”

  When he checked the slaughtered boars, the stench was overpowering. Clearly, they were beyond use—tainted, perhaps cursed by the giant’s hand.

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  He looked at his beast, which padded toward him, and sighed. “That will do for today. Let’s go home.”

  …

  Near his dwelling, Glen saw a familiar figure standing before his yard: the man called Black Raven. He held a bulging cloth bundle, and it seemed he had been waiting some time.

  As Glen approached, Raven turned, his face still as expressionless as ever.

  “Were you looking for me, Mr. Raven?” Glen asked.

  “Yes. I was passing by and thought I ought to greet you.”

  “Oh? Is that so…” Glen felt a flicker of unease, then forced a wry smile. “You truly are an amusing man, sir. Is that bundle something you bought in Dud Town? Did you not go only yesterday?”

  Raven glanced at the package, then replied, “My wife’s appetite has been rather large of late. What I bought yesterday was not enough. I must stock more.”

  “You are married?” Glen was genuinely surprised. “Then do give my regards to your lady. Forgive me for not calling upon her in person.”

  “I shall. I mentioned you to her yesterday. She told me I should keep closer company with you.” Raven hesitated, as though weighing his words, then suddenly asked, “Have you been in danger?”

  The question startled Glen. He gave a rueful smile. “I thank you for your concern. No, it was nothing more than an accident.”

  Covered head to toe in blood, he could hardly fault Raven’s suspicion. But he had no wish to explain further. All he wanted was to bathe and change his clothes—though, alas, he had none left to change into.

  “If you find yourself in danger, seek me. If I can help, I will not refuse,” Raven said simply. Then he turned as if to leave.

  Glen had half a mind to call after him, to ask for clothes, but one glance at Raven’s austere garb made him dismiss the thought.

  “Farewell, then,” he said instead, with polite restraint.

  As he moved toward his door, still fretting over his lack of clothing, he caught a glint from his neighbor’s window—the gaze of the old man who lived there. Glen’s eyes brightened. “Ah. Problem solved.”

  …

  By the time Leila and Bonnie returned to Dud Town, night had already fallen. Their hearts were heavy with dread, haunted by the thought of again crossing paths with Bob and his gang. Once had been despair enough; a second time might break them.

  “Leila, you must keep away from that demon. He is no father—certainly no fit one. We should call the police!” Bonnie, her voice still trembling, clutched Leila’s hand as she spoke.

  Leila wavered. It was true—he was bound to her by blood. If she sent him to prison, would she still be a daughter worthy of the name? Yet in the end, she resolved to report him.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  “But, Leila—what if they are not caught? What if they come after us?” Bonnie whispered, fear rising anew.

  “That…” Leila faltered, realizing the danger was indeed real.

  “If they find us again, they’ll take us away. I’m so afraid…” Tears welled in Bonnie’s eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Bonnie. You forget—Berlin is here in town. As long as we stay within its bounds, they won’t dare act rashly. Besides, school begins tomorrow. We’ll live in the dormitory—it will be safer there.” Leila hugged the trembling girl close, though she herself was equally afraid.

  …

  “What now? You’ve come again? My pantry is nearly bare—you could at least leave me something!”

  The old man glared as Glen strode boldly into his house, blustering with a show of courage that rang hollow.

  But Glen, wholly unbothered, surveyed the place as if it were his own home.

  “Don’t be so wary. We are neighbors, after all. I’ve only come to borrow a set of clothes.”

  “Clothes?” The old man was taken aback.

  “Look at me. I’ve nothing left to change into. As my good neighbor, surely you won’t refuse?” Glen’s smile was disarmingly bright.

  He felt no guilt. The man had bullied the former tenant of this body countless times; to treat such a fellow with a little tyranny of his own was no injustice.

  To Glen’s mild amusement, the old man did not bristle with anger but instead seemed relieved. Clothes, at least, he could part with. Had Glen demanded more, resistance would have been impossible.

  “Wait here,” the man muttered, climbing the wooden stairs.

  Glen sprawled idly below, his keen hearing catching the soft murmur from above: “Hush, darling. That fellow downstairs is dangerous. When he leaves, I’ll make you something to eat.”

  A child? Or a pet? Glen chuckled at the tender tone. “As if I’d stoop to bullying a little dog,” he thought, shaking his head.