Lycanthrope: Cover of Night
Lurking in the Dark

1. Lurking in the Dark

As the warm night wind rustled the leaves on the old oak’s branches, a solitary beast crept from behind a tree. He sniffed the air and could only replace her scent. There was no one else around. His stomach growled with hunger. It was his lucky night. Usually, the only people that inhabited the park after dark were homeless folks and pot-smoking teenagers. There was never enough meat on their bones and the taste of the flesh didn’t satisfy.

But what was this woman doing here by herself? She couldn’t be older than early twenties, he thought. Maybe she’s waiting for a date or something. His mouth watered as he scanned the young woman, the perfect easy meal.

She turned her gaze to him as he approached her.

“Evening,” she said cheerfully. He returned her greeting with his best human-like smile.

“Hello. Lovely night for a stroll, huh?” he asked.

“Certainly. Best time to enjoy it,” she replied.

“Well, a pretty girl like you must have someone to spend it with. What are you doing out here so late?” he inquired.

She seemed rather put off by the question but answered in a civil tone.

“Actually, I was waiting for someone, but it looks like the jerk doesn’t want to show up.”

The creature replied with a sympathetic nod.

“Well, as peaceful as it may be, it’s dangerous this time of night. Creeps are all over this place after dark. Would you like me to walk you out of the woods?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Might as well if he’s not going to come,” she said.

He could barely hide his fanged smile.

As the two walked, the girl decided to make conversation. “So, what are you doing out here so late? Getting stood up as well?”

“No, my dog ran off, and I’ve just been seeing if she came this far,” he lied.

The young woman looked around, “Sorry pal, I don’t remember hearing or seeing her.”

“Oh, she probably went home like a good girl,” he taunted subtly.

The girl looked around. She couldn’t see any streetlights up ahead. In fact, it appeared as if the forest was becoming thicker.

“Um, are you sure this is the way? I don’t remember coming through here,” she said, uneasily.

“Don’t worry. It’s just darker so you may not recognize it,” he assured her as he put his arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward.

The gesture didn’t seem to agree with the young woman.

“Listen, I appreciate your company, but I think I can replace my own way out,” she said as she tried to brush off his hand. However, his grip only tightened. When he reached for her with his other hand, she recoiled and slapped him across his face. He was taken aback as her slap drew dark blood.

The girl examined her black stained hand. Her pursuer hissed with anger as he shed his human skin and allowed his monstrous form to show. Thick, coarse, black hair covered his tarnished body as his hands grew wicked black talons. Two horns stuck out of his head as his eyes shone a sickly yellow. Before she could react, the satyr gripped her in a vice like hold and bore down on her neck.

She tried to scream but it came out in a wet gurgle. When he had his fill, he tossed her body to the ground as if she were a rag doll.

“Stupid mortals. You don’t know what’s really out here, do you?” he mocked, as he stood above her still body.

With one last satisfied smirk, he began walking away, but an excruciating pain welled in his ankle. He looked down and saw the girl clinging with her left hand. He felt his life blood draining as the wound on the girl’s neck began to heal.

“Well aren’t you the expert on fools,” she said as she let go of his ankle, allowing him to spin around.

She looked up at him with her golden eyes.

“I’m no mortal.”

The satyr stared back at her as he realized the mistake he had made. She smiled, revealing her sharp white teeth. He turned and ran as fast as his hooves could carry him. She could have killed him if she had held on a little longer. In fact, she would have drained him dry, but the hatred she held for the cold-hearted beast made the temptation of the hunt a little more intriguing.

She let him run a few paces before she began to chase after him. The wind whirled in her ears as her blood pumped faster. She leapt forward. keeping her hands extended in front as the change swept through her.

Her bones cracked as they formed a new position. Reddish-brown fur sprouted along her extended limbs and her ears stretched beyond her head. Once her paws struck the ground, she took off in a speed that matched the satyr’s sprint. He ran through branches and thickets, anything to slow her down. As the thorns whipped at her skin and fur, she only quickened her pace.

Up ahead, a fallen log was bent at an upward angle. She made her way up its wooden surface and leapt right before it ended. Landing on her target, she sank her teeth into the monster’s hide. The satyr shook his head violently, in hopes to throw her off. She could feel his horns cut into her belly, but she held on.

With a panicked attempt, he slashed his claws blindly. It was a bad move, because his arm was in a perfect position for her to clamp her jaws around his wrist. She felt her teeth sever through a bone and tasted his blood. With his free hand, he ran his talons across her face to make her let go. She stumbled away from him as he cradled his injured arm. Feeling her bloody face; the claws had slashed a row above and below her right eye. There were also a few injuries in her stomach from where his horns had gored her. They were minor, but she would have to tend to them soon.

She spat at the ground, trying to rid her mouth of his foul blood, while remembering to keep her distance. Though satyrs were cowardly and rash by nature, they still had enough brute force to do some damage. The satyr turned back to face her.

“That tasty ginger boy wasn’t a friend of yours, was he?” he asked in an attempt to provoke her. “Can’t imagine how long his mother will grieve.”

“Sorry, can’t say I knew him,” she said as she referred to the satyr’s disguise. “Though, I smelled you pass by here a few days ago. I suppose the human skin does a good job covering up your stench.”

The two circled one another.

“I may not have much control over what you do in your own territory, but you’ve lingered here for too long,” she growled as she pulled her knife from her holster and flung it at him.

He dodged out of the way to avoid a lethal blow. The blade just barely grazed him alongside his cheek, leaving a trickle of black ooze.

His calm demeanor was gone. With the bellow of an angry bull, he charged toward her with his talons ready. At the final second she jumped up and grabbed hold of the hanging tree branch and propelled herself over him. She just barely missed his claws as they cut a groove into the tree’s trunk. The time for his recovery was only for a split second, but that was all she needed. As the two turned back to face one another, she raised her left hand in time for a six-inch-long spur to poke out beneath her palm. With a bit of strength, she slammed it into the creature’s chest.

He tried to grab her around the wrist and rip her hand away, but it was no use once she had him in her death grip. His blood drained and entered her body through the spur. Slowly the wounds in her stomach and face healed, to the point there wasn’t even a scar.

The satyr’s color faded, and his skin began to sink into his bones. She stepped away from the shriveled lump as the spur retreated back into her arm.

“Look on the bright side, at least one of our nights didn’t end so badly,” she said as she turned and began walking away. “The guy I was waiting for did show up.”