[story] atcv2 #5

I haven't had the time to proof read it or anything, but I though I post
it anyway. Flame me now.

******

Time passed. And nothing happened. Seconds passed like hour, or maybe
hours passed; Laiva couldn't tell. When she finally reached the point
when she couldn't stand it any longer and hesitantly she opened her
eyes. She blinked. The wolf was still standing in the same place as
before. It didn't seem to have any ambitions to attack either; it just
stood there, held back by an invisible wall. It took Laiva a few
moments to realize it wasn't even looking at her; it was staring at
the fire. The werewolf was mortally afraid of fire!
She couldn't help grinning. She couldn't help giggling. She
couldn't help laughing. All the dread that had sat heavily upon her
heart left her in a salve of laughter. It was just too much.
Laiva would have laughed until she was completely exhausted,
hadn't it been for the look. The werewolf was looking straight at her
and it was... Well, it shouldn't have been possible for a wolf's mouth
to do that, but it was definitely smiling. Unnervingly. It was still
waiting and while it was waiting the little wood that nurtured the
fire was slowly burning down. The situation hadn't changed at all. She
was still trapped and the wolves were still waiting and the fire was
still the only thing that stopped them from ripping her in pieces. And
on top of that anything she had to defend herself had just turned out
to be useless.
As far as she knew the only thing that could really hurt them
was silver. That and chopping their head off. She got that one off a
man in the pub. He had been making a living of hunting monsters, or at
least he had said he did. And he knew what he was talking about.
People bragging or telling stories were... different. You got a
feeling for that with time.
'Girl,' he had said, 'silver's optional. Stops em
regenerating, ye see, but can't do that without a head either, can ya?
Chop it off and it's a goner. Works on anything with a head,
werewolves no exception.'
Laiva hadn't asked about the things without a head. Some
things are better left unanswered and she was somewhat afraid that he
would have answered that one; knowing that there were things without a
head had been quite enough to give her nightmares. Nightmares of
headless things chasing her through the woods, their acid stench in
her neck and claws tearing her clothes... Even now the mere thought
made her shudder. Though she would rather have those nightmares for
the rest of her life than the one she was in right now.
Did she honestly believe she could get out of this in one
piece? The werewolves were going to tear her apart before she even got
close enough to stab them, not to mention cutting their heads off. On
the road she had had surprise on her side - and she had been lucky.
You didn't have to be particularly bright to work that out. And she
was bright. Everyone said so.
In any case bright enough to know that the one thing she
needed were silver arrows; which didn't help at all. She had only ever
seen any herself once. Isrin had shown them around in the inn one
evening. He said he had come across them among other things... and
bits, as he put it. At that point daddy had given him one of his
not-in-front-of-the-child looks. It had been three days since the
monster hunter had left.
And Isrin hadn't held on to them. He had been bragging how
good a deal he had struck when he returned from his next trip to the
city and when he settled his bill she had seen gold blinking in his
pouch; most people in the village only had copper. Well, except for
ornaments and trinkets, but those were only silver plated in most
cases... except that silver plating should do, shouldn't it?
--
emmel <the_emmel*you-know-what-that's-for*@gmx.net>
(Don't forget to remove the ** bit)

Official AGC feedback maniac

"God is playing creatures - and we're the norns."

"A hundred dead are a tragedy - a hundred thousand are statistics."

"I guess you can call yourself lucky." -
"I could, but Linda suits me a little better...
Things called lucky tend to get hit by trucks."

Proud owner of 1 (one) DISOBEDIENCE point.
Former owner of 1 (one) eating point (eaten, sigh).

Hi, I'm a .sig virus. Just copy me to your .signature. And don't worry.

On 2007-09-20, emmel <the_emmel*whatever*@gmx.net> wrote:

Well, I *have* done some proof reading by now, so here's a somewhat
revised version... (We'll see how many more there will be

*******

Time passed. And nothing happened. Seconds passed like hours, or maybe
hours passed; Laiva couldn't tell. Finally she reached the point when
she couldn't stand it any longer and hesitantly she opened her eyes.
She blinked. The wolf was still standing in the same place as before.
It didn't seem to have any ambitions to attack either; just stood
there as if held back by an invisible wall. It took Laiva a few
moments to realize it wasn't even looking at her; it was staring at
the fire. The werewolf was mortally afraid of fire!
She couldn't help grinning. She couldn't help giggling. She
couldn't help laughing. All the dread that had rested heavily upon her
heart left in a salve of laughter. It was just too much. And Laiva
would have laughed until she was completely exhausted, hadn't it been
for the look. The werewolf was looking straight at her and it was...
Well, it shouldn't have been possible for a wolf's mouth to do that,
but it was definitely smiling. Unnervingly. It was still waiting and
while it was waiting the little wood that nurtured the fire was slowly
burning down. The situation hadn't changed at all; she was still
trapped and the wolves were still waiting and the fire was still the
only thing that stopped them from ripping her in pieces. And on top of
that anything she had to defend herself had just turned out to be
useless.
As far as she knew the only thing that could really hurt them
was silver. That and chopping their head off. She got that one off a
man in the pub. He had been making a living of hunting monsters, or at
least he had said he did - and he knew what he was talking about.
People bragging or telling stories acted... differently. You got a
feeling for that with time.
'Girl,' he had said, 'silver's optional. Stops em
regenerating, ye see, but can't do that without a head either, can ya?
Chop it off and it's a goner. Works on anything with a head,
werewolves no exception.'
Laiva hadn't asked about the things without a head. Some
things are better left unanswered and she was somewhat afraid that he
would have answered that one; knowing that there were things without a
head had been quite enough to give her nightmares. Nightmares of
headless things chasing her through the woods, their acid stench in
her neck and claws tearing at her clothes... Even now the mere thought
made her shudder. Though she would rather have those nightmares for
the rest of her life than the one she was in right now.
Did she honestly believe she could get out of this in one
piece? The werewolves were going to tear her apart before she even got
close enough to stab them, not to mention cutting their heads off. On
the road she had had surprise on her side - and she had been lucky.
You didn't have to be particularly bright to work that out, and she
was bright. Everyone said so.
In any case bright enough to know that the one thing she
needed were silver arrows; which didn't help at all. She had only ever
seen any once. Isrin had shown them around in the inn one evening. He
had come across them among other things... and bits, as he put it, at
which point daddy had given him one of his not-in-front-of-the-child
looks. It had been three days since the monster hunter had left.
And even Isrin hadn't held on to them. She knew for sure,
because he had been bragging how good a deal he had struck when he
returned from his next trip to the city. When he settled his bill she
had seen the shimmer of gold in his pouch; most people in the village
only ever had copper. Well, except for the ornaments and trinkets, but
those were only silver plated in most cases anyway... except that
silver plating should do, shouldn't it?
--
emmel <the_emmel*you-know-what-that's-for*@gmx.net>
(Don't forget to remove the ** bit)

Official AGC feedback maniac

"God is playing creatures - and we're the norns."

"A hundred dead are a tragedy - a hundred thousand are statistics."

"I guess you can call yourself lucky." -
"I could, but Linda suits me a little better...
Things called lucky tend to get hit by trucks."

Proud owner of 1 (one) DISOBEDIENCE point.
Former owner of 1 (one) eating point (eaten, sigh).

Hi, I'm a .sig virus. Just copy me to your .signature. And don't worry.