Chapter 2-52: Four!... (1/2)
“Uhhh...” Darren looked at his daughter in dismay. “I mean... Samantha, you’re ten years old.”
“I’m as physically fit as any hyn alive, and I can make Four at any time. If I can hit Five, these bastards don’t really stand a chance.” She glanced at him calmly. “Papa, I have never showed this side of me to you, but I am a very dangerous person, and this kind of thing is what I was literally born to do. I did not want it to come now, I wanted to wait until things progressed, and enjoy my non-violent time while I could... but I will not allow these things to harm my family, and I’m not going to just run away.
“They are either killing people and eating them, Papa, or they are stripping the freshly dead of meat. They are already going to die; it just matters who is going to kill them... and that person seems to have been decided as me.”
“The idea of letting my daughter go off to fight these things...”
“Don’t pull a manly man thing on me,” she instantly huffed back at him. “This is not killing skulkers and lone werewolves who don’t have any idea you are around. This will be a group fight, where you won’t be able to run far enough and fast enough, and they will have numbers and magic on their side. If they catch you, you will die, and I cannot cover for you.”
“Are you saying they can’t catch you?” he had to rebut.
“I can outrun Chomps in a straight line. What do you think?” she shot back.
His mouth dropped open. “I... think that is very impressive?” he had to say, looking at the dog, who just grinned back at him. “What about food, water?”
“I will take yours, and cache it. I only need a third the amount of a normal person.”
“I’ve seen you eat!” he protested, half-smiling despite himself. Her bottomless gullet was a family legend.
“You haven’t seen how many calories I burn a day, either,” she replied.
Darren was about to say something, then did some really basic math. She ate all the bloody time, so many calories and so much food, but only needed a third the amount...
His lips pursed. Just how much goddamn work did his little girl put in over a day? She was up to all hours and got up even earlier than he did...
“Papa,” she interrupted his thoughts. “I can do this, and I will do this. You need to go home, warn the family, and prepare them. Assume at this time that there is no way we can stay on the farm long-term. Take the body of the girl and burn it to ash. I am going to take the body of the man and prop him up inside here, just to draw them in. When they leave, I am going to follow them, and if they take the meat, I am going to kill all of them.”
The only beings allowed to eat human corpses were ghouls that had been licensed by and attached to a funeral home. Being eaten by a ghoul was absolutely enough to prevent one from rising as an undead, and the ghouls were contracted to grind up the bones and make sure no necromancy could Animate even those.
As it legitimized their existences and gave them a constant food supply, the ghouls lucky enough to get into such a position defended it strongly... which hardly meant they didn’t consider getting even more food, and virtually inevitably would attempt to do so, meaning they would get replaced fairly often.
The exception to that were Leng Ghouls, who would hold scrupulously to their contracts.
There were a lot of creatures that enjoyed human flesh, and a number of were-creatures were among them. Consuming human flesh was instant grounds for death for any of those species, much as they might think otherwise, and even trading in human flesh was worth a bullet in the head from most folks, as it catered to the appetites of those creatures.
Nevertheless, it went on. It was an easy source of revenue for funeral homes, especially if they were cremating the body... no need for the meat to go to waste, and there were certainly creatures that would pay well for it.
Thoughts of the rest of the family seemed to have the desired effect on her father, moving him away from the valiant father protecting the daughter who didn’t need it, to the rest of the family that did.
“Okay, let’s put him inside, then.” The corpse was currently draped over Kingly’s saddle, tied in place. The horse certainly didn’t mind being lightened of the load.
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They propped him up in the driver’s seat, Sama on the feet and her father on the arms, setting the severed head on its lap, half-transformed and staring ahead in total disbelief that such a fate could befall a mighty werewolf like him.
Darren eyed the rifle in its mount, and Sama just shook her head. She did, however, pull the box of silver ammo out of the glove compartment, and handed it to him. He took it and stashed it away.
“Is there anything else you want?” he asked rather helplessly.
“For you to get home and set things in motion as fast as possible, Papa,” she replied firmly, keeping his eyes without effort. He slowly nodded, trying to come to terms with exactly how dangerous his daughter really was, and swung up on his horse. Kingly nickered inquiringly. “Follow Papa, you’re heading home, too.” The spirited mustang waited as her father spun around, and then flicked Yucca’s reins.
Knowing exactly where they were going, Yucca took the lead, breaking into a trot that would see them home inside two hours.
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Sama watched them go, sighing, until they disappeared from sight along the trail. She then turned her attention back to the truck, a grim and dangerous light coming on in her eyes.