Chapter 2-57: Burning Chains (2/2)
Changes, they were a-coming. Going from the horribly powerful masters of all you surveyed to another item to be checked off on a Magical Church’s hit list was a hard fall. Humanity was no longer just sheep to be fed upon, and you weren’t greater beings evolved past them.
How are they going to respond to a Rantha Hagchild?, she smiled to herself, and turned her head as a stick cracked loudly out in the forest, and chittering and soft hoots indicated that Scary Big Thing out there was moving.
He was being obvious about his approach. Testing her for readiness, seeing how afraid she was?
He probably didn’t realize that she was sitting down on the opposite side of her Forge from him just so she didn’t have to get up and turn to face him.
He sped up when she didn’t react, making more noise, trying to make her nervous. She glanced in that direction indifferently, waiting for him to show himself.
The werewolf came out of the forest in monstrous hybrid form, clearly having some of them Racial Levels, seven feet tall, but clearly smaller than he was two steps before. His fur was steely grey, eyes green and glowing slightly as they glowered at her from where he stopped to meet her eyes.
“I was going to offer you something to eat, but you’re way too big.” She stroked Chomps’ head reassuringly as the dog tensed before the gaze of the werewolf. “Seeing you were waiting over there for so long, you must have had something important to think about. Anything I should know about?”
He glowered at her suspiciously. After all, she should be totally terrified, but he wasn’t getting any elf or fey vibes off of her.
His growl compared favorably to a push mower starting off. “You are arrogant, little one,” he said, crouching down. The prelude to a possible jumping attack still didn’t make her take an overt stance against him. “How do you know I am not here to deal with you?”
Sama just lifted an eyebrow. “Because you smell of caution and curiosity, not anger, territorialism, or hunger. After all, you just watched me wipe six hostile werewolves, and whatever those other six things were; blow a source of pollution and corruption all to Heaven and gone; and if you were competent and well-informed, noticed me bring in forces that can actually make a difference in punishing those responsible for this place.
“Also, there’s five more of the werewolves along a back trail where I lured them out yesterday.” She waved vaguely in that direction. “So if you’re wondering where the ones who left early yesterday went and didn’t come back with those eel-head things, fret not... they won’t be returning.”
He grunted, taking two long steps forward, and sat down cross-legged from her abruptly. He was nearly as tall sitting as she was standing, which was pretty amusing as he looked down across the burning bone-chain and the crossbow at the center of the floating Disk.
“What is this?” he demanded to know.
“Exactly what it looks like,” she replied easily. “What Pack are you part of?”
His stare met hers, and she didn’t back down. He was definitely wary of her and how unknown her powers were, far more than she was of him, and even if he didn’t like the defiance, she didn’t care, and it showed.
“The Manitou,” he finally replied, somewhat stiffly as he also realized he was intruding on her fire and being rude. “I am Strikes At Shadows.”
She nodded. “I don’t belong to any organizations larger than my family unit, so I am merely Sama. Welcome to my fire. Like I said, no food suitable for one of your kind, and I doubt you drink bottled water.”
His lips revealed fangs for a moment. “No, we do not,” he agreed. “What is your purpose in these lands?” he demanded properly.
“Um, trying to get to twelve years old? I was born here and live here. A werewolf decided to make a mess of things after she couldn’t control her urges, probably a new one Awakening. I followed her back to her den, where I found a bunch of human meat in her fridge, and more being brought up by another member of her pack. I killed him, too, and when I tracked down his car, it was full of coolers of more human flesh.
“The ones waiting for his delivery finally tracked him down, came and took it... four more weres, and four of the eel-guys. I killed the weres, and tracked the eel-guys back here, then had a fun and exciting night. Hopefully enough that I can grow up without putting the rest of my family at risk, you know?”
“This Weapon,” he gestured at the black chain burning so unwillingly, “is tainted with the magic of the Worm. I will be taking it.”
“No, you won’t,” she replied, perfectly calmly and dryly, and he visibly tensed. “It’s mine, I won it in fair battle. If you want to take it, then we’re going to fight, and you’re going to die. It will still be mine, and the Manitou will have one less member of their Pack.”
His clawed hands began to flex, and totally unconcerned, Sama stared back at him, the picture of serenity.
He did take in her mangled sleeves and ripped shirt, and not a single claw mark or bloody wound showing anywhere.
“You are very confident of yourself, little Sama,” he growled.
“Yes,” she agreed. “You have good judgement, Strikes At Shadows.”
He was trying to suss her out, and that was rather hard to do to a Null. She simply didn’t look like she was ready for a fight, he couldn’t even smell her properly, and there was nothing magical about her. Yet she had definitely wrought a fiery doom upon the creatures of the Hexar compound... but whether that was something to approve of, or merely a dangerous flexing of her powers, was something he couldn’t ascertain...