"There's a fox walking by the road, it has no arm or leg."
Children's rhyme.
Am I here?
Pain.
I am.
I can't move. I can't...
Pain.
I can't scream.
Where am I?
And it was supposed to be so beautiful...
Antek stood before me, staring at me with his dead eyes. Slowly, he raised his good, dead hand, putting something gray into his mouth. Smacking loudly, he made indistinct sounds:
"Brain, brain, stale brain..."
We stood facing each other for a few moments, his smacking loudly, and my guts began to churn with disgust. When Antek finished, and he did so very quickly (he was clearly very hungry), I heard another growl from his throat, though it was torn,
"Brain, brain, stale brain..." and he jumped at me with the speed of the wind.
He would have ripped my head off in the blink of an eye, if I hadn't slipped in a pool of blood. I fell with a thud to the floor and found myself face-to-face with Kołodziej. I miscalculated, actually with half of Kołodziej's face, because the monster ripped the rest off. From his frozen grimace, you could tell he wasn't exactly happy about his demise. The monster flew over me and slammed into the wall with all its force, sending me sprawling to the ground. That gave me a precious moment to recover from the shock. I got to my feet and started looking around for something heavy, but I found nothing. I instinctively repelled Antek's next attacks, dodging and rolling on the ground.
"Brains, brains, stale brains," he kept repeating, waving his arm furiously, pushing at me with all his might.
Luckily, his other arm fell off on the first leap, which is probably why I survived the rest of the attacks. Finally, I came across a large butcher's knife and the empty bucket that Kołodziej had brought earlier. Thus prepared, I grappled with the creature, which stubbornly repeated,
"Brains, stale brains..."
As a youth, I had been a decent swordsman and still remembered much. However, I was accustomed to larger weapons, having mainly practiced with a powerful two-handed sword (as befits a man nearly two meters tall), and now, armed only with a butcher's knife and a pseudo-shield, I felt a slight sense of dissatisfaction. I would have likely become a perfect knight, had I not felt a calling to serve God. I came from a wealthy and influential noble family, so no one interfered with my plans, culminating in my appointment as Bishop Bobek's secretary.
I cut, block, and dodge—I performed them with such a lack of grace that I was ashamed of myself for allowing such a decline in form. It's a good thing I escaped from those feasts and drinking at the bishop's, because after a while I would have turned into a pile of fat like the Saint.
I finally managed to blind the monster by gouging out its eyes, but it bit me in the process, a nasty scab. "Nothing," I thought, "not the first one this night." Antek began to fumble around, searching for me, his jaws snapping viciously as he did so. I managed to trip him up, knock him to the ground, and with the last of my strength, I lifted the heavy bench, placing it on top of him. I sat down on the seat so that he couldn't move or reach me with his filthy claws. What am I supposed to do with this carcass? Exorcisms won't help, he's been dead for two days, after all? I was starting to get the better of me, and that hellish creature, probably out of spite, kept muttering under his breath:
"Brain, brain...
" "Shut up, Antek, or I'll tear your head off right at your throat!" I yelled at him, finally fed up.
On the verge of a breakdown, I grabbed his arm, which had fallen off earlier, and forced it down his throat with all my might. He looked strange, but I wasn't laughing, because dawn was coming soon, so what was I supposed to do with him?
People wouldn't believe me, and what the hell was going on?!!!
"M......g, m......g, c......y m......g!" came from the ground.
Suddenly, the wound the wolf had inflicted began to burn like fire. I twitched with pain, and hair began to grow on my arm.
"What the hell?" I was terrified beyond words.
Suddenly, the symptoms and the strange hair disappeared; everything seemed to be back to normal, but the fatigue had subsided, and a terrible stench filled the air. Never before had a scent so intensely wormed its way into my brain. I felt so sick that if my stomach hadn't been empty for a long time, it would have emptied itself of its contents.
"What am I going to do with you, you carrion?" I looked at Antek with pity.
"M.....g, m.....g.....
The old song." Suddenly, Piast burst into the room like a madman. He wanted to say something, but when he looked around the room, he fell unconscious. I don't blame him, really, since Antek had made Kołodziej his bloody "toy." He gutted him, spread his guts all over the floor, and the altar was covered in blood.
"Get up, boy, wake up, now is not the time to sleep," I tried to wake him. Only after a hard slap did he open his eyes and begin to speak quietly, so that at first I could barely hear him.
"At first, everything was fine; the peasants were joking, calling out to each other. As Father advised, I stayed away from them, and I did the right thing. When we reached a small hill, we heard a baby's cry, and then a clattering sound like a horse's, but strange, as if it came from hell itself. Something huge crashed into the group of peasants, tearing them to pieces. Then I heard screams, piercing screams, growing fainter with each passing second. A few seconds later, Chief Prostak ran over my head, snarling his face cruelly and waving his arms in all directions. He was clinging to them like tiny children, but with large, elongated heads. Then he disappeared into the bushes; perhaps he survived, because he ran toward the village. Where I had heard screams before, I now heard smacking and slurping, and something laughing so foolishly that it still sends shivers down my spine." I got up with difficulty, my legs felt like jelly, and ran to Father, but after what I see now, I don't understand anything at all," Piast finished and began to look around the room fearfully.
"Something's not right here..." I wanted to say, but that terrible pain from my injured arm seized me again, but it was so intense that it coursed through my entire body. I straightened and fell, curled up on the ground. As I lay there, I saw strange images I had never been allowed to see. Strange smells, tastes, desires, lusts overwhelmed me. When I finally regained my senses, Piast was kneeling beside me, trying to revive me.
"Is everything wrong with Father?" he asked, terrified.
"Nothing, nothing, it was a rough night." I sat down slowly on the dirt floor, my head pounding. "But before I tell you what happened, bring a large axe from the woodshed, because Antek seems to be regaining his strength."
To confirm my words, we heard a muffled:
"M......g, m......g!"
"But he was dead?!!!
And he still is! Don't talk, just bring the axe!" I shouted, because the idea of having to deal with the monster again didn't appeal to me at all.
"Yes, Father Cleofas!" The boy was about to leave when I noticed his hair.
"Wait, boy, but you weren't gray yesterday, were you?
" "Father, I don't think so either, and now only the silver on the Reverend's head sparkles.
" "Don't talk to me with pretty words, just bring the axe, because Antek needs to have his head cut off, because he doesn't want to sleep and join the ranks of the angels.
" "And is that God's doing?
" "God has nothing to do with it.
" "If Father says so," he added, and after a moment he dragged a large axe.
Antek wanted to say something, because he seemed to disagree with my decision, but his protest was too weak. The arguments he used were something like this:
"Brain, brain, stale my..." "Cut!" I overcame his defenses, and he finally shut up. Fortunately, decapitation worked, but not for long, as his jaw kept moving, and his torso twitched desperately.
"Stubborn brute," Piast concluded, "to the fire with him!"
"Okay, light a large bonfire, away from the buildings, and we'll burn them both there.
Then you can help me clean up, and we'll fumigate the rooms with sulfur, because the stench here is awful.
" "Yes, Father Cleofas." Piast rolled up his sleeves and got to work with gusto.
"A clever boy, he'll make a name for himself," I thought to myself, and my spirits immediately lifted.
It was dawn, we had finished cleaning, and the pyre was slowly dying down. We sat on a tree stump and sipped the sacramental wine. Only then did I tell him about my nightly struggles with the specter. But I don't know why I didn't mention the wolf; as it turned out, it turned out to be a good thing. Piast sat there for a long time, his mouth hanging open. After much thought, he said,
"Sir, what about those in the forest? Will they be the same as Antek?
" "If they're even in one piece, then probably yes."
"So they'll come to the village and be hungry?" Saliva dripped from his open mouth in surprise.
"Certainly.
" "And if we greet them with bread and salt, as the old custom dictates, would they go then?
" "Oh boy, boy, I don't think anyone will be left alive after their attack." His naivety amused me.
"My mother, uncle, and Ciapek are there!" the boy was terrified, utterly fed.
"Then when we're done, run to your people and tell them how it was with Antek. It's best to herd everyone into a decent cottage and bolt the door with everything you have at hand." Don't forget to arm yourselves with axes, or you might not escape the fight.
"Yes, Father Cleofas, I will," he added, taking a mighty swig from the bottle.
The sun had risen, the herds and cattle in the barn were beginning to roam, and the birds were squawking in the trees. When we finished tidying up, I said goodbye to Piast and ran to my room to change. I ate the remains of the food in my bag, but surprisingly, I wasn't at all hungry or tired. I strapped a large ornamental dagger to my belt—a gift from Bishop Bobek—and tucked a crucifix into my breast pocket, as it might prove useful in this sick time, when people rise from the dead and vampires prowl the forest. Suddenly I remembered Piast's words – "...with a great noise, "it" ran in and began tearing people to pieces..." – this wasn't like strigoi. Something else, more powerful, was lurking in the forest. Perhaps I'll find the answer in this book. As I passed the chapel, a terrible stench wafted from inside, so that I fainted for a moment.
"What's going on? I've been fumigating with sulfur," I said quietly under my breath, and quickly ran to the library to avoid inhaling the stench. Opening the door, I examined the hand Antek had bitten earlier. There was no trace of it, though he'd ripped out a chunk of flesh. Other old wounds and previous scratches on my body were gone, only the one left by the wolf was throbbing slightly and reddening with blood. "It's strange, some kind of magic... or maybe that sacramental wine I drank with Piast is doing me good."
Inside the library was the same mess I'd left the night before, with one difference: the massive dead wolf was missing. It was probably still alive and had crawled out on its own, but I couldn't figure out how, as the door was locked from the outside.
However, I now had more important matters on my mind than investigating the wolf's disappearance, so I turned to reading.
It was a manuscript, with engravings depicting the creatures described within, but these weren't ordinary drawings. Each one was meticulously detailed, each creature seemingly posing and sporting a face pleased to be painted. "What a strange thing, or maybe it was just my delusion," I closed the book, searching for the author. Unfortunately, the spine had fallen from the moisture, and I learned nothing. After a few hours, I found a recipe for "how to kill a baby vampire." It was simple, just drive a stake through its heart and then decapitate the creature. A very interesting method; why hadn't I thought of that before? I was about to abandon the book, but suddenly my eyes were drawn to a picture on a page that had fallen out while I was carrying it to the table. The engraving depicted such a terrifying creature that the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A hyena's face, an amphibian's body, and legs with large hooves, along with three pairs of arms, each longer than the last and tipped with sharp claws. What do you call this beast? After a few minutes, I found the place where the page had fallen out. I struggled to decipher the manuscript: Kikimora – that was the stupid name of this terrible creature – I would have called it a carrion. I continued reading, intrigued by the beast – "it surrounds itself with lesser nightmares, for it possesses great power. It does not allow the dead to rest. Because of this, it is cursed by other Gods and banished to the Abyss. But it returns often, and wherever it appears, there is fire and mourning, and people die by the dozens, which is why they call it the Bloody Bitch. You will not encounter a more powerful monster than this, and only with God's help will you survive and drive the beast from whence it came..." When I read these words, my soul immediately felt better, for I was a priest – an ordained man. If this creature is prowling here, I have a good chance, because my hope is in God. Thinking this, I gripped the crucifix tighter. I know a lot of exorcisms, I've cast out evil spirits many times, so I'm sure I'll manage this time too. As usual, my good thoughts didn't disappoint me, but this wasn't the kind of divine help I was asking for...
It was already dusk, God only knows how long I'd been sitting here, but surprisingly, I felt no fatigue or hunger. There was no trace of the night's struggles, my hands were unscathed, I was full of energy and vitality. Piast had mentioned something about my hair being gray, but then again, years ago, I'd done worse things with ghosts, and my raven-black hair hadn't lost its color. I examined it carefully—"I really am gray, I must be getting old, and such adventures aren't for me."
I was about to close the book when my eyes fell on a drawing of a carved wooden idol. He was gazing into the distance, his arm raised, his finger pointing upward, and at his feet lay a wolf. "XYLORTOWID—guardian of the world of the dead, he ensures that no carrion crosses into the light." "Strange," I thought. I expected a more interesting story, like: the son of so-and-so, the father of so-and-so, created, destroyed, and is the best. It's plain to see that he's one of many minor deities, a common scab! No sooner had I finished thinking about it than the arm the wolf had bitten me, my hair stood on end, and a terrible pain gripped me. I fell unconscious on the dirt floor.
And I had a strange dream. I could smell fresh blood and the increasingly rapid heartbeat of my prey. It was a deer, already losing its strength, and with a single swipe of my hand, I stunned it. My hand was a large, hairy paw armed with large claws. The animal lay unconscious, I felt a terrible hunger, I was about to tear out its entrails and begin the feast, when suddenly something fell and began to shimmer in the moonlight. I looked at this "thing," sniffed it, and thought – "a piece of metal, it shines beautifully." I grabbed it clumsily and tucked it back into my bosom. Again I had a cruel urge to tear out the animal's throat with my magnificent fangs, to bathe myself in its fresh blood, but suddenly something started to nip at my side, and I thought – "It's that piece of metal – I'll throw it away immediately." Then I suddenly remembered – "...this is a gift for you, Father Cleofas, wear it with pride and remember me sometimes..." – said Bishop Bobek, a disgusting scoundrel, one day.
"But what am I actually doing here? I'm all hairy, with sharp fangs in my mouth, and powerful clawed paws are growing from my shoulders. This isn't a dream at all! Jesus, help me! What's happening to me, this can't be! I'm a Christian priest." I left the poor animal and ran blindly into the forest, the moon lighting my way. I ran blindly for a while, trying to suppress the urge to kill. I probably would have collapsed, exhausted, if I hadn't suddenly hit my head hard against a tree, knocking me unconscious. I fell and, with pain, looked up at the statue of an old idol, similar to the one I'd recently seen in a book. Except that I was lying at its feet. The idol's face looked at me with cold eyes that seemed to burn in the moonlight.
His finger was pointing straight at me, and then I remembered the words from the book: "No carrion that crosses the light."
Suddenly, I smelled the same scent that filled the chapel where I'd wrestled with Antek.
I caught it in my nostrils and followed its trail like a storm. Within minutes, I was out of the forest and standing before a hill, on top of which stood a large cross. My God, how it stinks here. The forest was eerily quiet; the leaves didn't rustle, the eagle owls didn't hoot. I stood there for a moment, marveling at this strange phenomenon, when suddenly I heard a soft child's cry coming from behind the bushes. I ran as fast as I could; in the meadow lay a delightful child, waving its arms, repeating, "Mama, mama, give me a breast." I slowly approached, leaned down, picked it up, hugged it to my hairy chest, and was about to pet its head when the baby screeched, "Disgusting Azol!" Its eyes turned yellow like a reptile's, its huge teeth grew, and its clawed paws grew black. It raked them across my face, and at the last moment I threw it against the ground, its teeth clawing at my throat. Lightning fast as a spring, it bounced off the ground and began thrusting again at my neck. It dug its disgusting nails into my flesh.
"Where's your mother, you ugly thing!" I hissed in pain. I threw it off me again, this time further than before.
The monster began crawling around me on all fours, searching for a suitable place to attack. Then it sat down and stopped muttering those two words under its breath. I stood over it, astonished, its jaw hanging open, saliva dripping, and blood gushing from its wounds. It was the first time in my life I had seen such a repulsive creature. Suddenly, a sad thought came to me – "I'm not far off either, a multitude of sharp teeth in a wolf's muzzle, a long tail, and a powerful, hairy chest." Suddenly, the monster sat down, fell silent, and stared at me with wide eyes, and I think it smiled at me. In the moonlight, its sharp shoots, stained with my blood, gleamed, and suddenly, from every tree hollow and burrow, creatures like itself began to emerge and crawl toward me. Each one muttered something different, but one word stuck in my mind, and I will never forget it: "Get down, Burek!" yelled the largest baby. As if on cue, they all lunged at me, snapping their teeth. They were biting into my body everywhere, and I couldn't keep up with throwing them off, let alone tearing off their heads like the book recommended. After a short, fierce fight, the monsters suddenly lost their will to attack me. I stood bleeding in the middle of a mass of torn-up corpses, and for a moment I even thought I'd won. But I was sorely mistaken, because from behind me came a loud noise, like a herd of wild horses charging straight at me. I was about to jump to the side when a powerful blow to my back hit me. I flew like a catapult, only to come to a crashing halt against a huge oak tree. My spine nearly snapped in two, I wrapped myself around the tree, and my jaw hit the trunk. I felt the sweet taste of blood in my mouth, my brain bounced off the tires, and I drifted into the arms of Morpheus. But he wasn't kind to me, and the daze quickly passed. To my surprise, I was lying on the ground, pinned down by some large creature that stood over me, laughing foolishly and swaying from side to side.
"Bad dog, bad dog," it repeated.
I was helpless in the iron grip of three pairs of hands. Its elongated snout was covered in ulcers, its eyes were slits, and inside them glowed red. The thing leaned over me, its mouth filled with a terrible, nauseating stench. It grabbed my cloak with its teeth and pulled with all its might, looked at me, and seemed to freeze. I was surprised to see it staring at my crucifix with its jaws wide open. Suddenly, it released me, recoiled as if scalded, and fell. To my surprise, instead of a monster, there was only a fat old man in his underwear. We stared at each other in astonishment; to this day, I don't know which of us was more astonished. Suddenly, I realized it wanted to say something, but only an inarticulate roar escaped it. Then it turned and ran, screeching, toward the hill. I tried to chase it, but the strigoi blocked my path. They leaped at me again with ferocity, but my luck was slower and weaker. As I tore the last one apart, I approached the hillside, enough to see the cave where the creature had hidden. A
foul stench assaulted my nostrils from afar, nearly knocking me off my feet, but I knew I had to keep going and finish off this thing, whoever, or whatever it was. I entered slowly, knowing it was hiding somewhere in the darkness. Suddenly, I heard the swish of its long tentacles. I dodged and grabbed the first limb I found, biting down with all my might. The roar of the wounded monster caused a landslide. A large boulder fell directly on it, crushing it cruelly. I leaped at the creature, slashing at its belly with my claws, the foul stench filling the cramped cave. The monster didn't hold back, striking me square in the face. It hurt, I felt the sweet taste of blood in my mouth again, but the monster's stench enraged me, and new strength surged through me. I bit into its arm so hard that the bone cracked, leaving its limb in my mouth. The monster howled in pain again and turned, probably trying to escape. I waited for it, and with all my might, I struck it on the head. With a terrible scream, it fell, and once again, instead of the monster, lay a fat man without an arm. It was still alive and wanted to say something. I leaned over it, but I wanted to tear it to pieces, for it had caused me so much pain earlier.
"Kill it, please..." I heard a quiet whisper, "I, Brother Joseph... have had enough of this hell... destroy the cross from above... it disturbs the gods... kill it, or soon... Kikimora... will return... kill it... please..."
I wanted to say something, but from surprise and astonishment I couldn't utter a word. I clumsily drew my sword and swung. For a moment, as I hesitated, the monster lay in the monk's place again, poised to attack. Its mouth reeked with a terrible odor, its red eyes boring into my head. I struck its neck with all the strength I had left, then slashed a second and third time. The monster moved for a moment, its tentacles desperately trying to grab me, then calmed down. Slowly, the monster disappeared, and in its place I saw the same poor old man again. The poor monk, a desecrated old pagan semetor, then ran around as a monster for six months, and now it lay before me, headless and armless. I stood over it and, as custom dictates, wanted to say a prayer, but was it proper for a werewolf to do so? I guess so, after all, I'm still part human, and I hope that, as the legends say, when the moon sets, I'll regain my natural appearance. I looked around the cave. How am I going to get out of here now? Then, in the gap left by the stroke, I saw the moon. It was smiling at me with its round face. Was it some kind of lunatic or something? I don't know why, but I felt the urge to hurl insults at it, but all that escaped my mouth was a desperate,
"AAAAAAUUUUUU!!!!!!"
I startled myself, then jumped up and slowly, step by step, crawled out of the hole, which probably wouldn't even fit a badger. After such incredible effort, I stood exhausted on the hill and stared at the cross—it was its location that made this whole nightmare happen. I'd have to sort it out later, but for now, I just dreamed of dinner and a warm bath. Suddenly, at the foot of the hill, I saw a multitude of torches and the shouts of the villagers. "Ha, the rescue team is screwed, I dealt with the monsters myself," I thought proudly, but happiness and satisfaction quickly turned to terror.
"There it is, up on the hill, let's surround the beast!" they yelled at the top of their lungs. The loudest was the tallest, wielding a large hammer. "It's Simpleton, he must have survived the previous night and brought reinforcements," I thought with mixed feelings.
They came dangerously close to me. I wanted to tell them I was good and it was I who killed all the creatures, but only a squeal and a whimper escaped my throat.
"Die, beast!" Simpleton roared, swinging his hammer. Of course, I dodged and was about to flee into the forest to prevent unnecessary casualties, but then I was hit hard in the back of the head with a rock.
"Jesus, help me!" That was the last thought that crossed my mind before I lost consciousness.
Pain...
Pain...
Where am I?
Pain...
Heaven or hell?
Pain...
The stench.
"God, it stinks in here. This must be hell."
Something disgusting trickled down my face. I struggled to open one eye. But this wasn't hell, this was a manure pit. They didn't pierce my heart with silver, nor did they cut off my head – the fools. The only wisdom those backward minds had was to throw me "dead" into the cesspool.
"Thank you, God, these people are so stupid and unenlightened, thank you with all my heart," I thought, and fell again, speechless.
The pain returned in waves.
I examined my torso. Hairless now, but blue all over, with deep wounds everywhere. I wanted to see my arms and legs, so I moved my head, but suddenly something cracked in my neck.
"Boors, they've broken my neck," I thought, and lost consciousness again. I dreamed of that wooden idol, waving its finger at me and seeming to say: "Good Azor, you'll get new bones! Good Azor."
I woke up, the sun was already setting, but thankfully I could move my head. Then a sad thought came to me: it was good to be a werewolf, because they heal so quickly. I could move my arms too, only my left one had healed a bit crooked. I rose slightly onto them, but a moment later I collapsed, roaring with pain. It took me a long time to get back to my feet, and when I had almost clambered out of the hole, I slipped and with a great splash, accompanied by screams of pain, I fell back. God forgive me the words I used then, but the fall was a torment I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy! For a long moment, I watched the setting sun and gathered my strength; fortunately, all my wounds had already healed. I reached the sacristy at night, and the journey was tiring and impossibly long. First on all fours, then with a stick, and finally I was walking on my own, but I was staggering terribly, as if I'd drunk the entire supply of sacramental wine.
In the meantime, I washed myself in the stream to keep the dogs from chasing me, because I stank even worse than Kikimora. I quietly went to my room and changed. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself—bruises and scratches everywhere. What's more, I was missing two teeth—my canines. Those damn trophy hunters, I won't give absolution in confession when I find out who did this to me.
I'm surprised I made it out alive. Someone knocked softly on my door, and Piast's snow-white head poked in.
"Praise God you're back." We were all worried about you when I told them you'd gone to the forest to perform an exorcism. Father was gone for so long, we thought the vile wolf had killed Father, just like Brother Józef. We should have taken me to the forest, so at least Father wouldn't have gotten lost or been cut by branches.
"Did you mention anything about Brother Józef?"
"Poor Brother Józef, we found him decapitated in an old tomb. A cruel werewolf imprisoned him and then killed him, but we took revenge on him. Chief Prostak broke his neck himself, then knocked out his powerful fangs with a hammer. They carried him to the manure pit on the dead monster's fork. Peasant Prostak is a wonderful man, brave," the boy added.
"I'll give him that, to a cruel man," I thought, my head aching terribly.
"He's a wonderful man and so resolute. He was the only survivor of the pogrom last night, and he brought Castellan Birwuta's men to the rescue. When the Prince learns of his achievements, perhaps he will now become Castellan himself, since Birwuta was eaten by the walking dead.
" "It can't be?" I said, surprised.
"Or maybe, maybe." As they were marching to the village to rescue them, they encountered a whole horde of undead along the way. Prostak suggested cutting them down, knowing they were corpses, but the castellan was stubborn and dismounted. He wanted to negotiate, invite them to the council table, or have them go home in peace. The corpses were initially frightened and surprised, but then they mentioned something about the contents of the castellan's head and all attacked him. Birwuta screamed for a moment, then fell silent, and the people stood terrified. "The boy sat down on a stool; it was clear his story would be long and interesting. I poured him some wine, he drank, caught his breath, and continued." Only when they saw the poor man's bare bones did Prostak come to his senses and shouted, "Kill, kill!"—and he did so just in time, because other undead began emerging from the forest around them. Birwuta's men rushed to break free from the encirclement. The corpses were very fast, and three armed men who had stood too close ate them just as quickly as they had the unfortunate Birwuta. But Prostak didn't lose his fighting spirit and began to order the men who remained, leaving him with only ten men, all relatively well-armed. The chieftain used his large hammer to whirl the air, clearing a path for the rest of the group. They began to retreat to the village, followed by a huge mob. Prostak recounted that when he saw five more men fall into the arms of the corpses, he began to weaken and saw his death approaching. But he didn't know that Birwuta had previously sent to a neighbor for a detachment of knights. The approaching cavalry almost trampled the surviving warriors, but Prostak quickly relieved the situation, he described. The knights, shouting, rushed into battle, and fortunately, unlike Birwuta, refused to negotiate. The fight was short; they crushed the monsters. When they were about to return home after their victory, they heard a howling coming from the hill. It was a nasty werewolf, and they quickly and easily tracked it down and killed it. They searched the unfortunate hill again and found Brother Joseph dead. The funeral is the day after tomorrow; I hope the Reverend will celebrate the mass.
"Yes, of course, son, I'll do it with pleasure, and I'm glad the matter has been resolved. It's very nice to hear, boy, that people have managed to do this so cleverly, and now leave me alone, for I'm tired.
" "I have another small gift for Father, from Simpleton. He found a beautiful crucifix and a magnificent knife on the monster, which I'll give you in gratitude for your earlier blessing. Because as it turns out, the monster not only killed, but also robbed graves. Good night, Father.
" "If you see Simpleton, ask him to come to me as soon as possible, because I want to show him my gratitude in person," I said, rubbing my itchy fangs, which were just starting to grow back.
"Yes, Father Cleofas, but not until tomorrow afternoon, because they've been so drunk that everyone is now asleep, numb with joy.
" "Aha, then bring me a keg of mead, because I've had a hard day and I want to end it on a happier note."
I stood at the open window and looked out at the forest. It was just as dark and unfathomable, yet something had changed. Various sounds began to reach my ears: owls, eagle owls, frogs, and other livestock. The forest finally came alive, and the awful smell of destruction, fire, and death disappeared from the air.
I breathed a sigh of relief from the fresh air; it no longer bothered me that all my ribs hadn't fully healed yet and ached like hell.
I looked at the waning moon. Damn it, it would be full again in a month. I howled at the moon, simply, humanly, but I don't know if from joy or sadness. All I felt then was exhaustion and emptiness.
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