They said the boy was delirious. They said he would talk nonsense. But words are not to be believed anyway. Words are treacherous, especially those said sober. People only tell you what they want you to know. They can mask one’s true intentions behind a facade of lies. A man’s emotions show things the way they truly are. People try to hide their feelings, but they are no secret to the man in black. Even when you keep a stone-cold look on your face, he knows fear is climbing up your spine.

Feelings never lie.

The visitor tightened the grip on the silver pendant and dove into the dying man’s emotions. Mountains of fear and despair fell on top of him. When a man knows he’s about to die, and all hope has left him, all darkness comes crashing down. He felt the agony of the last week, lying in this chapel without legs, agonizing pain going through his body. The fever was ravishing it. The shock of the violent clash destroyed his mind. Going through all this was strenuous, even for someone as experienced as the man in black.

Then he finally found what he was looking for. He felt the man’s nervousness as he opened the door of the old woman’s house. He felt how tense he was when he uttered the words, “Who’s there?”. He felt his reluctance when he said, “What’s wrong with your voice?”. And he felt the pure primal dread when the beast lunged at them.

The man in black felt the dying man’s emotions as the monster ripped his fellow’s throat, blood spraying like a fountain. He felt the crippling terror when the black, furry mass tackled him to the ground. He saw the monster’s red eyes and teeth sharp as knives. The hunter kicked at it to get it away, and in return, it bit one of his legs off and tore the other one with its hands.

The last one managed to pull out his sword and swing at the beast. The visitor felt the hunter’s surprise when he saw the swift move of the monster, the blade barely catching it by the neck. Then before he passed out from blood loss, the hunter felt helpless, watching the monster tear open the last hunter’s belly, sending his guts flying all around.

The man in black felt it all. All the horror and violence. He gripped the cross tightly until its edges pierced his skin. When he reached the end, just before the hunter passed out, he saw the fear leave his body, coming out of his nose like a thick purple mist, making the shape of a wolf walking on two legs.

He slowly pulled out the pillow under the boy’s head, then put it over his face and pressed over it. The wounded man shook his head from right to left, trying to find a pocket of air, but the pillow was so tight against him. He tried to move the man’s arms, but he was so tired from the fever. He tried to kick, this time at the monster wearing black clothes. But he couldn’t even do that with the stumps he had for legs.

After a few more moments, the hunter released his grip and stopped fighting. It was over.