The man in black’s fingers immediately twitched, reaching for the hilt, but he got hold of himself. It’s him. The stench is blinding, and the scar matches. But why isn’t he running? Why isn’t he attacking? Why is he so calm? Dim light faded outside, and the shadows of the trees grew, engulfing everything. The greyness and the mist obscured everything, making it look the same - from sunrise to sunset.

Sunset.

If the man in black could feel his emotions, he would have sensed the chilling grasp of fear down his spine when the realization hit him. They’re buying time until the sun sets. That atrocious smell of wrath isn’t from one of them. It’s from all of them. I can sense their emotions, but once darkness settles in, a wolf sees better than a man.

They don’t eat grain here. Only meat.

The hunter had become the prey. Every moment brought the sun’s rays down, taking him deeper into the wolves’ den. He had to act now. Going out and facing all of them in the open would be suicide. His best bet was staying inside, but he’d have to deal with Oleg quickly.

The moment his hand touched the sword’s hilt, the giant plunged on top of him with inhuman strength. He punched him like a battering ram, grabbed his clothes, pulled his hair, and bit at his face with jaws like pincers. The pain filled the man in black’s eyes with tears. Blood dripped down his chin as Oleg did his best to bite the preacher’s nose off, pressing him against the wall.

He couldn’t take his sword out this close, so he started punching him in the ribs and the head, but the attacker didn’t seem too bothered. So he channeled all his strength to slide down to the floor, letting Oleg tear the flesh from his face. The man in black struck the beast in the groin and pushed him away just enough to draw his sword. He held the silvered blade up, and when the giant plunged at him again, he ran it straight through his chest, facing a pair of rage-filled yellow eyes.

He touched his face, and the open wound from the bite stung, blood dripping down on his cross. The man in black felt his heart pummeling his chest. He drew the sword from Oleg’s body and stood over him.

It was dead silent, but he knew better, for a firestorm of hatred raged around the house.