Another radiant day, Gill was playing away, shuffling dirt with his ox and hoe.

  Sweating was part of the job, part of life. He shook his head, smiled inwardly and ploughed on. All in the same manner, till a muffled cling reached his ears, protected only by a dark straw hat letting through specks of the sun.

  He dropped to his knees with heavy movements, executed as if it were but a whim.

  His calloused hand brushed dirt away until a little metal showed, engraved with a bunny. His brain tickled by a memory long-forgotten and he freed it from the soil. A spoon of simple making, now dirty, but nothing some cleaning won't fix, as he tucked it in the back of his trousers he went on with his ox and hoe across the disheveled field, sky still blue. The children ran by laughing, he waved and smiled- they didn't see. It did not matter.

  The sun was slowly swallowed by dusk, so the village was lighting up carefully one candle in its comfortable colored lantern, followed by another. Shrill noises arose from town, instruments forgetting their sound every year. Still they've always performed and otherwise there would be drink.

  Ox guiding and tools in hand Gill walked off down to his home where his Ditallia would soon be ready to go to the marketplace, where they'd fall in love all over again and again, until they count no more days, or know no more how to count.

  *

  Dirt-rocks grumbled underfoot, the door cracked open and she smiled, turning her head from the cooking pot. "Hi dear, did you get it all done?" His hands closed on her hips. Before he kissed her- "All is done for the sowing" he spoke, her lips curled with faint amusement, her eyes twinkled with something more. He kissed her again, holding her a little tighter, a little closer.

  -Something so real she'd never have imagined it.

  Gill lost his hemp shirt to go outside and wash the work from his skin. Ditallia couldn't help but think of the scene as he wipped himself with a cloth over his labor-trained physique. She'd made a shallow plate for both of them, there would be plenty at the celebrations. Still, after resting her hand gently on her belly, she scooped a little more for herself.

  Again the door creaked, from the window she saw his shirt, wet and hanging over their fence. She set the plates on their table as he sat himself down and waited., d ollowing her with his eyes as she fetched him a fresh shirt for the evening. Eyes were speaking what is never said constantly, yet always understood.

  She placed the shirt beside him on a chair and they dined in silence, tasting the sweetness of potatoes and carrots. Gill suddenly chuckled, "What?" Ditallia asked, bowing her head to look at his face cast down on his plate. A cheeky smile was already finding her. "Isn't this something your mother would make?" She jerked upright, a hand flying to her mouth, and her gaze locking on him.

  "Almost the same. You're turning quite a leaf." He smiled without a sound, waiting for her to get worked up. She was already holding her knife in a way that satisfied him immediately.

  Both of them sat at their small table, walls made of bark covered wood. Light from the cooking fire communicated their shapes in trembling light, their sight, grown used to the dimness filled in their features, appeal elevated slightly by the touch of dark.

  "Gillford, you really like to play with fire" she spat back. His hand struck the table and he burst out laughing, launching back covering his mouth with his other arm. She craned her neck like a bird about to fly at him. "Now you're trying to sound like mine,--" he let out "Really can't make up your mind, can you?"

  Something shot past him, and a rage that would not burn licked Ditalia's lips "Now let me tell you something-" her chair shoved away from their dining. And there was something of fire that pre evening hour, with Gill already halfway dressed for it.

  When they were truly ready to leave, Ditallia had fixed her brown hair, braided one strand, and set a light hat to match her best dress. They stepped out, but not before Gill noticed the dinner knife still stuck in the wall. She pulled his hand as he was still losing flame-kissed cheeks.

  Hand in hand they walked, toward the music, full of promising airs and familiars.

  *

  Guided by light of a full-moon. Music sounding in the distance beside the rustling of voices, amongst which one loudly sang above all others - they reached the town's brightly welcoming edge. People passed market stalls.

  They saw Petty, daughter of the fisherman, and Alek the huntsman standing very close to each other both blushing, looking at jewelry. Gill and Ditallia merged with the crowd, walking onward to the singing at the centre of town.

  They were stopped nearly nine times to catch up with old friends.

  Finally they saw the origins of the music and song. Beign mayor Grain - a gracefully old man with a tiny white moustache and bright blue eyes - dancing.

  The tunes and maybe some drink, were deemed to be rejuvenating him, or perhaps simply letting him forget his age.

  Over in a corner Ditallia spotted someone already waving them over.

  The red faces of both their parents filled with laughter, were a welcome sight even to those who had only just tasted of the celebrations.

  "Ah child, it's good to see you, - and you of course, Gillford" his mother said.

  At that moment a large man swung his arm around Gill as only a father could. Tickling his ear with a long brown-grey beard. "These are no children, Artha. Me son's a man-" His eyes sparkling with delight. This broad shape beside the shrimp-like woman - whom Gill took after in none but character- would always be an odd sight.

  Ditallia's mother and father were neatly dressed in tunic and dress kept for these occasions, their faces far less coloured with alcohol. Her mother held her hand as if to express a longing for closeness, and her father seemed happy with three lines forming at the corners of his eyes - as when he truly is, though the curve of his lips shared melancholy.

  her father spoke, "We've missed you, little honey badger" caressing her hair along side her face, releasing with a softness covering decades of care.

  As Gill was still fully occupied with his own family. Ditallia starts being filled in on all the latest gossip by her mother - only momentarily broken by her father.

  "Uhm... would you like something to drink?" he asked standing halfway between going and staying, looking a somewhat out of place.

  Ditallia chuckled "Papa I can't-" the elder pair's eyes opened wider knowing all too well.

  "Unless they have plain grape juice-" she added and looked over her shoulder at Gill, her parents catching her with a new smile. "But I doubt it."

  Her father's arms swung awkwardly like a little chicken, then he turned as he spoke. "Oh my... I.. I'll see what they have!"

  Her mother rushed her as much as she could from half a metre's distance. "Does he know?" -Looking at Gill. Shyly Ditallia shook her head. "Oh I see-" her mother whispered. "So today then?"

  *

  Gill stood with a hand in his hair, surrounded by family which seemed to have come from everywhere and nowhere.

  They all smiled as only they could, effortlessly warm.

  And it went something like this.

  "How are ya fields lad?!"

  "Good, very good uncle."

  "No difficulty ploughing with old Ingrid?!"

  Someone handed Gill a cup of ale.

  "Nay David the ox is fine - a sweet tempered thing."

  "Hope the fields not the only thing you plough tho."

  Gill almost choked on his drink as his best mate Sammel spoke way too loud and poked his elbow into Gill's side, earning him laughter and a playful shove wherever Gill could land his hands. Sammel almost drowned in the crowd, but his father pulled him out.

  "I'm sure the lad sees more action than you boy. Hell, even old pops sees more" Sammel's brow rose. "Pops is dead right?"

  The banter and stupid jokes flowed almost to no end.

  *

  Her eyes traced along every face in the crowd as her mother spilled everything she ought to know about what was waiting for her and Gill. Then her eyes met with Gill's, wishing him to pull her out.

  He knew her all too well,

  "Sorry fellows, gotta see about my girl." He made his way through the gathered crowd.

  "Hey" she said.

  "...Hey milady, would you care for a walk?"

  Her mother almost shooed the both of them away.

  And there they were hand in hand, watching, laughing and pointing where the other should watch - though Gill would rarely see the things she pointed at.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  They almost reached the end of town. "Oh, I wanted to show you something I found. It's silly, but I liked it." He reached into his back pocket, feeling for the small spoon.

  "Don't think it's iron - feels softer."

  She looked at him with little understanding and started "Maybe I should tell you something first" and smiled softly, but then he showed her the spoon, more bare now, sparingly showing silver shine.

  She closed her hands around his, holding the spoon like a treasure. Leaning in close and pulling him closer. "I am with-"

  A scream cut through everything like murder, wrenching its way into every soul. A cobble-patched, moist sound followed as meat tore from bone. The gruesome face of a wolf's head, dripping blood, arose from its first victim, in the stature of man.

  Before the monster could even think of dashing. Gill had Ditallia in his arms and started his run through alleyways and houses alike, every house simply being an addition to the next. All was intertwined. Screams filled the air, more and more claws wrenching flesh, terrible horror becoming a constant ambience. The wind echoing tempering breaths and beating hearts.

  The night sky wiped pitch black, like all the stars were lost or falling.

  Gill's shoulder scraped the stone of a narrow alleyway slick with blood. A body lay before them, something gnawing at it as demons do. He shielded her from even its sight, standing between both. Slowly he pushed back, back into a door of an unknown home where they could only go up and hide.

  So little hope, it went unnoticed by both. Lone terror in the corners of their eyes soaked.

  Their feet softer than whisper landed on a wooden floor. Hands reaching for the nearest door. Eyes darting to every shadow and place. Until the stairs, seemed the only way.

  All that was left was in sight: her eyes, his arms, her skin, his controlled breath and their life.

  Stairs so softly creaked, like cuts that would never heal. They heard it prowl the inner ways of this others home. Heard it growl, hunger alone.

  Gill walked her into a room he did not know. Pushed her, she fought him, silent screams. Disappearing into a closet, tears streaking as his gleamed. He whispered "my love,-" too loud "I have this." She could only cry as he held the spoon. A silver thing. Nothing, only a dream.

  Both of them waited in the dark, blood dripped

  and wood creaked in the monster's wake.

  If he could pierce its heart.... Then maybe they would remain in love.

  *

  Its head slid beyond the corner of the door frame. Gill already felt its teeth on his skin. It Crept at a crawling pace, not in any hurry to strike. Baring long hacked fangs like a wicked grin enjoying every second of the moment.

  Gill's body tightened, the spoon clenched in his fist. He could not launch first, his body would not let him.

  The menacing beast's breath fouled the air. Sweat seeped into his shirt, the colour of his face white with fear. He wanted to scream, provoke the beast.

  Then he looked away as if others were clinging to the window.

  That second he looked away.

  It....

  It jumped.

  Claws reached for his flesh, maw opening to take Gill's throat.

  A spasm reflex - his arm suddenly caught the beast's jaws. With all his might Gill couldn't hold the scream, pain surging through him. Blinded by this he became unable to hear her silent whimpering.

  His agonised sound mixed seamlessly with the chorus outside. As far as human ears could tell.

  She was as much lost to darkness as terror tumbling down her mind's well.

  His arm did not bid much protection, his skin gave, and so did his flesh till the jaws splintered his bone, and he lost the arm in a violent explosion of blood.

  Ripped off in a single motion of its head. Gill's eyes wide and crazed he started as he screamed, stabbing like a madman at the beast. Giving not a single thought to his blood-streaming stump, bone showing.

  The silver spoon couldn't puncture the beast, although it did blaze, every impact met with radiance. The sights revealed were only reason to shed more tears. As Ditallia's streamed to no end.

  The spoon was bending every other way, light scorching wounds festering deep into unholy muscles. The faint ghost light of hope was not theirs to see.

  The beast broke through the binding of sacred pain. Lunged forward. Gill's head saturated with roaring terror. Flesh tore, tendons snapped, separating into one thing, his end. There was not even a second left for the life to fade from his eyes.

  The spoon, its silver shine buried by the dark, She watched both fall to the ground, only seeing Gill go down, as she was motionless, a puddle of despair, mind shattered to no end.

  Hands unconsciously placed over her belly. Tears had streaked the passage and her mouth quivering, seemingly unneeding breath.

  Her eyes large, frozen on the mess that was him. Still drinking in the thought he might still be breathing.

  The monster approached her with heavy steps. Like butter his teeth went through her flesh. As he munched and munched the moist sound almost mimicked a chuckle. A vile complementing. As she no longer screamed.

  What remained of her body, unrecognisable, what was clear was but a reaching hand. Stretched out to the breathless puddle.

  The lycan's head now dyed even more red, seemed like it would never dry. Turned to the door, under foot a radiant burning pain, and then snap.

  The monster shut its eyes or was darkness taking him? Whispers of the forest filled its ears and when its sight returned the image of trees, shrubs, leaves and dirt. The beast clawed at the soil now turned from a wooden floor, shook its head, letting out a whispering growl. Its wounds beyond healed, to never-existent.

  A larger shape passed, dark strength buried under black fur. The beast looked over them all, a low growl. His evil eyes glazing their rising shapes. Twelve beasts to his own liking, rising with growing bloodlust a strange voice moving them, commanding.

  "Play with your sacrifices."

  The couple's killer no longer dripping off their blood. Breathing in a memory after radiance and silver touch.

  *

  They followed the largest among them through the dark and wet forest, their fur sparingly bathing in broken moonlight. Every other time a nose lifted, a bark or low whimper sounded, and they all held direction. Whatever they approached, they did so down wind.

  Lycan was not settled in himself, it is all Happening like before, all went round inside of him instinct muddled. On his tongue the taste of the man and woman still lived.

  He looked at the full moon, noticing melodic instrumental sounds still far off. Is this a second feast? His teeth showed again as the corners of his maw rose like a murderous grin.

  As he was getting riled-up something bumped into him. The other directly punished by teeth, Lycan setting his into the shoulder of another of his kind, not violent enough to draw blood. Lycan's ears were down, nose wrinkled, precieving no one lesser. The shoulder higher than his own, a claw pushed down on his, slowly the black nails dug into his flesh, Tips painting red.

  *

  A deep rumbling growl was building in the throat of the other, cloaked in black fur.

  Lycan's eyes widened with shock realising who's shoulder his teeth were digging in to. Too late, the offense already made. Lycan's pelt pulled tight from his neck, jaws releasing, body hanging limp. The group halted, all their yellow eyes frozen on this moment, on them. I never, I, I. He looked down not daring to look up. Stupid, so stupid, only sounding whimpering from his shrunken shape. An abrupt growl, his body was thrown to the ground, the impact stung his flesh. Just lay, lay still, his breath shaking out of rhythm with his form. While laying on the ground, the black shape approached, someone sniffed the air, others were laying down. Lycan could only smell dirt and then the breath seeping into his ear, a stumped growl. He tried to rise, every inch full of caution. Eyes on the beast's paws, turning away from him. Almost able to stand, the black shape pounced at him and a barrage of barks launched at Lycan's face, saliva smeared in his fur, as he landed on his back trying to hold the other off. I can't.

  Pressure left his chest, heart still hammering. It was done, my place, is clear.

  At the back of the line he walked head bowed, with broken pride. All is different from before. He could remember their taste, now he still tasted the earth.

  Music grew as the walked the woods and approached the fields. Occasionally a misplaced note flew through the air as the group spread out. Why, how did, what happened? His animalistic mind could not conjure the question, only the feeling something was wrong. That radiant pain- his paw started to sting -silver light had done this, maybe it could fix it too. Wounded pride was more unbearable then hunger, and this time he wasn't given the lead, his mistrusting eyes went over the small shape before him, he even mistrusted the light grey of his coat, muscles slim, just a child, leading his way.

  Beyond the town light poured not so far, maybe someone who wasn't drunk could search and find the eyes moving in the dark.

  There would be very little searching as the town became surrounded by hungry shapes.

  Lycan's eyes knew where they would be and yet they went over every face he could see. We aren't even close,- his claw scraping dirt as his eyes turned angry. The child had chosen this spot, confident he waited, leisurely laying in the high grass.

  Longing was eating at his insides to jump and run in. He nudged the young one, nothing out of place. A soft growl commanding alertness, eyes flashed, maybe a second of anger. Defiant? The child placed itself more ready to jump, soon after the first scream (sounded the night of slaughter to begin.)

  They rushed from their cover, like spears made of shadow. In a second they held a child and a father's neck between their jaws. The man's blood filled with alcohol, lycan bit off the head and swallowed the tainted blood that seeped into his mouth- Child already dashed to another victim, the crowd dispersing and the air filling with screams of deadly terror - and tore some flesh from his first victims shoulder to consume. Released from the child now where were they? Hell had broken out his steps already landed mostly on bloody stone. He headed east, into a small alleyway to the right, many people were fleeing into. Bloodlust rising, he jumped a man at the entrance scraping his claws over his back tearing the fabric, skin and muscle. Without finishing the job, he tore limbs from woman and children, smashed an elderly mans head against the wall squeezing it like a grape filled with red.

  The town bathed in blood and he forgot,

  fangs showing. Satiating hunger with murder and blood he filled his mouth with the intestine flesh of his victim laying in the bloody crossing of an alley way, bodies scattered around.

  Softly whispering to him, wet footsteps.

  *

  As Lycan rose from the corpse before him, head smeared with intestine blood. He looked the couple in their eyes, clearly breathing. The man wearing a bloodied shirt, holding her in his arms, dress drenched in blood. Eyes stained with tears and for some reason clenching the small silver thing.

  As if snapped from his trance fuelled by blood, this time he could not take leisure steps. For what ever had happened could not happen again. He ran, Gill slipped as he tried to turn and run. Ditalia and the spoon booth falling with him. Lycan flew over head, claws scraping at stone walls, crums landing over them. She lay unconscious the beast noticed only slightly breathing.

  His eyes focused on Gill, the man's shape shrunk under the murderous eyes. He crawled over his wife caught the spoon in his bloodied hand. Lycan's shape ran at them aiming for a quick kill. His paws touched the ground possessed with death.

  Gill wanted to run but his legs worked no more, his head spinning with terror as he watched his end, the last second took an eternity. He yelled a hoarse sound he would never be able to repeat facing every fear. Lifting one leg in the beasts approach. Muscles tending like tearing things. The maw opened and Gill rammed his fist to the roof of Lycan's mouth, lower arm bracing against the lower jaw. Silver burning light pouring from monster flesh.

  For three seconds he did last, enough for two drops of red to flow before the rest, then came the snap pronouncing him dead.

  The radiant silver, again losing a shimmer of radiance.

  *

  Unnaturally his hands were calm, his left one held by her warmth, sight filled his eyes. Gill saw her walking with her easy stride. Tears welled up in the corner of his.-

  Ditallia pointed to something he wouldn't see, now something he couldn't see. Eyes fixed on her. Why? "H h how" his voice trembling with a force of sadness, "y y you where." I saw us die... She now looked at him, saw him. Eyes weary, truly seeing.

  Her softly caressed his cheek. "What is it Gill, you look so pale all of a sudden." He squeezed her other hand feeling just how really she was. Her voice contorted from light unexpected hurt. "Gill stop that, you're hurting.-" and he already released "we should need to go" he looked around, seeing were they were, not caring anymore what he had seen, or at least for now pretending to himself, he didn't. "We need to warn everybody, the bell tower" her mouth opened to question him, but then she had never seen him in this state, or maybe ones before. Her head nodding with slow carefully staggering movement.

  The both looked at the tower.

  We won't be on time,

  Passing through the crowd brushing and coliding. A man grabbed Gill by his collar quickly releasing him as Gill shoved the man aside. As the man landed a faint scream cut through the air and blood started to flow over stones at the town's edge.

  They ran towards the bell tower, seeing it still a view houses away, it's tower rising beyond their roofs. A silver shimmer reflecting the moons light.

  Their feet in ritme with closing doors and barred windows. Shapes landing on villager at the beginning of the street. Red sleeping between stone as heads were ripped of and throats were slid.

  They reached the towers large dark wooden doors. He slammed his fist against it. "Open up! We need shelter."

  There was no sound. He slammed his shoulder against the immoveable thing, not even a creaking sound. They were both breathing shallow and fast. Monsters killing around them, closing in. He readied another despered slam, she stopped him holding him. "I love you and I would have loved you to the end of our days" he held her and she struggled to form more words. "I have been blessed you from the very first day I saw you." They fell to their knees as the sound of splintering bones and steps in poudles of blood crept through the air.

  Something in his pocket grew warmer, a faint light asking for their touch. Eyes filled with bloodlust, drawn by the hint of radiance. Gill brought his hand to it.

  The beasts dashing for them. He showed her the spoon, tears falling from her face. He twisted it's metal in every way, through the air flew bloody shapes. Mouths hungering forever more landing on their bodies at their flesh, teeth ran through skin and metal tore.

  The last bit of radiance wasted for...

  *

  Gill again held her hands, the spoon in between them. Her mouth was coming really close and spoke to him "I am with.-"....

  His sight returned as death screamed in their ears.