Jack walked behind the crowds of people, following the caravan of Huntsmen as they rode in and were pointed toward the center of the village. The groups of people he passed all whispered amongst themselves. Strangers were rare in this neck of the woods. The villagers here had grown up knowing each other. They had learned to fear and mistrust anyone that came from beyond the walls. The first carriage that rode in was pulled by two large white horses that were fitted in polished steel armor. The horses' warm breath puffed out before their large noses in heavy bursts like they'd been running a short time before. Their large black hooves stomped across the snow like the carriage they were pulling was loaded down. The men that rode horses alongside the carriages wore padded light armor with mostly chainmail to protect their necks and limbs. Their horses wore chainmail of their own with cloth banners that hung off their flanks. All the riders had bloodstained swords, and some had spattered blood across their faces and armor. A few Huntsmen that were walking held onto thick chains that were attached to metal harnesses on large snarling hounds. The hounds were muscular beasts that had armor on their legs with chainmail that dangled off them. All of the hounds had muzzles stained in blood. Some even had fresh scars across their backs and head.

People jumped back with gasps when the hounds barked at them, causing their handlers to snap commands to keep them focused. The last carriage that was pulled in was less grand than the first. The first was made of fine wood and highly detailed to symbolize wealth. While the last was made of worn iron and wood. The sides all had rolled down leather to hide the contents within and it was pulled by two large white oxen with shiny golden nose rings that steered them. Bear traps and strange tools hung off the sides of the last carriage, making it unsettling to look at. They circled around the well in the center of the village and eventually came to stop. The villagers all gathered around, whispering in hushed tones at all the claw marks on the carriages that were far too big for any normal wolf to make. While Jack was more interested in why there was blood dripping from the last carriage. From the tavern more men stumbled out to get a look at who had arrived. Upon seeing the Huntsmen, the men all started to get a bit defensive. Resulting in the sheriff rushing out to tell the Huntsmen in a clear calm voice. "Gentlemen, can I speak to whomever is in charge here?"

The Huntsmen on horseback glanced at each other, while two of the Huntsmen holding the hounds walked over to stand on either side of the first carriage door. With a sharp whistle, the hounds quickly sat between the feet of their handlers and their handlers stood up straighter. One reached out to open the door of the carriage, but the interior was so dark that it was hard to see anyone inside. All that could be heard among the crying kids and rustling horses, was a long sharp scrapping sound. Jack moved to stand in a better spot, catching a glimpse of a blade being sharped from a seat inside. The person inside was in no rush to get up or out, when he asked aloud in a gruff tone of voice. "Are you the sheriff that sent the distress letter?" The Sheriff nodded, then rushed out nervously. "Yes... But I'm afraid that you've arrived too late. See... We have come to a kind of... peace with the beasts. We stay out of their woods and give them tribute. In return, they leave us alone. So, I apologize that you've come all this way. But we have handled it." The man inside chuckled to himself, asking his own men coolly. "You hear that, Lads? They formed a truce with them."

The other Huntsmen around them all chuckled and smirked to themselves. The Sheriff gave them all a stern glare, before telling them more seriously. "I can allow you to stay for a few hours, but I think we'd all be happier if you left soon. Our truce with them is fragile and if they see you-" The man inside rose from his seat, cutting in to ask as he slowly began to step outside into the snow. "Can you smell that, Lads? Fear." The villagers backed up a little or hugged their loved ones closer. The man that stepped out of the first carriage wasn't what anyone had expected. He was dressed in heavy steel armor that had the sigil of a white skeletal wolf's head with golden antlers and two red axes crossed behind it. He was even dressed in a cloak made entirely of wolf pelts and wore a real wolf skull with grand buck antlers attached to it. In his hand, he carried a large axe with fancy runes written upon it. The Sheriff backed up from him in awe, while the man told him more seriously. "You think feeding them is how you stop the attacks? You don't go in the woods... but you are surrounded by them, my friend. You are letting them cut you off. You've let them turn you into prey."

The man hefted his axe to point at the gates, telling everyone loudly. "I've seen them out there. I know what you are up against. I'm still here. You've let their numbers grow by 'feeding' them. What happens when you can't feed them anymore? What happens when you break this 'fragile' truce?" The man let out a deep throaty chuckle, lowering his hand to say bluntly. "You don't get a say in this anymore. This is a plague... and I'm here to clean it up. So, do what you do best. Grovel to your betters." The man raised his hands, introducing himself to everyone. "My name is Geralf Kruin. I do not cower to wolves. I trap them... and I KILL THEM." Geralf nodded to a Huntsmen on horseback by the last carriage. Jack perked up to see the rider unlace the ties and flip it up to reveal that the last carriage was a large cage. The villagers gasped and covered the eyes of their children in horror. Jack's own breath caught in his throat, but he couldn't look away. Inside the last carriage was a naked man that had his arms and neck chained to keep him standing upright with his arms out. At his feet were hundreds of dead bodies. The man had a leather muzzle over his mouth to keep him from talking, but his look of fear was obvious. The man's body was dripping with blood from wounds that he'd suffered.

Geralf grabbed the Sheriff by the collar of his shirt and practically dragged him over to the last carriage as he told him in a deep stern tone. "Look at him! You see that! THAT is just one of the beasts that plague your pathetic village! LOOK, DAMN YOU! Look at those we killed to get here! Do you see the problem now, you blind sheep!" The Sheriff shook his head, trying to tug from the man's grip as he snapped out. "What did you...? This is..." Geralf yanked the Sheriff into his arms, forcing him to look up at the man that was shackled inside. Pointing to his arms and neck, he told everyone sharply. "Look! Those shackles are dipped in silver! See how his skin burns! See how it bleeds?!" Jack could see the man's skin burning and bleeding where the metal touched his skin. Geralf shoved the Sheriff to the ground, turning to face the others as he said in a dark tone of voice. "You've got yourself a werewolf problem. A BIG ONE. If you don't snuff it out soon. They will overrun your walls and kill you all. Anyone that has told you otherwise... is lying." Jack watched one of the female council members step forward to tell the other villagers. "This is a trick. He's trying to destroy everything we are trying to achieve!"

Turning to look at Geralf, she pointed her walking staff at him and snapped out. "Release that man at once! You are scaring the kids with this disgusting behavior!" Geralf nodded, reaching up to rub his neck for a bit as he uttered out coolly. "Yes. I can see how you would think that... Here's the key. Catch." Geralf tossed something to her from his pocket without a trace of concern or care. The woman dropped her walking staff to catch what looked like a small ball. The moment her hands touched it, she began to scream and dropped it. Everyone in the village jumped back with surprised screams, watching the woman's hands burn. The man in the cage, thrashed against his restraints, muffling something out as he stared at the woman. The woman looked down at the ball that was made of silver, before looking up at Geralf. In that short time, Geralf aimed his pistol at her and pulled the trigger without mercy. The bullet struck her between the eyes, and she fell back across the snow, causing more villagers to scream and scramble back from her and Geralf. Geralf holstered his smoking pistol, casually walking over to pick up the ball with his bare hands. Showing everyone that it was safe to touch, while saying confidently. "You should be afraid. The wolves aren't just outside your walls. They're already inside."

Geralf pretended to toss the ball to one of the villagers and laughed when the young villager flinched from him. The villagers backed away from him, whispering about the death of the woman they had known for years and how this had to be a trick. Geralf then tossed the ball at Jack, who caught it without a second thought. The people around him gasped, waiting to see Jack wail in pain. Instead, Jack looked it over in his hands. It was heavy and solid. He couldn't tell if it was entirely silver or just silver plated. Geralf's large hand reached out to take the ball back, leaning down a little to meet Jack's eyes when he asked curiously. "Interesting cloak. Mind if I ask what your name is... Red?" Jack stared into the eye sockets of the wolf skull to see the man's hazel green eyes. Jack was about to answer, when his mother called out a bit protectively. "Jack? Come here. Now." Jack reluctantly turned to face her, until Geralf asked curiously. "You always do what mommy tells you?" Jack turned his head to lock his eyes with Geralf with a fire behind his bright blue eyes. With that one look, Jack could faintly see Geralf smile behind the long maw of his wolf skull.

Geralf straightened up, while Jack saw his dad quickly approach them in his peripheral vison. His dad reached out to grab Jack's arm, pulling him behind him before telling Geralf in a light voice that was coated with a strange familiarity. "Geralf. The hunt has been good for you, I see." Geralf chuckled, looking to his dad as his gruff demeanor turned semi pleasant upon saying. "Little John! How is retirement?" Geralf grabbed John's hand, practically crushing it in his. His dad nodded with a wince, pulling his hand back when he grumbled out. "Not so good, clearly." Geralf released his dad's hand, staring him down when he said a bit icily. "Yes. I never would have imagined this happening with you around. Why was it you retired again...? Family reasons?" His dad didn't answer, but Geralf didn't seem all that interested in the answer. Geralf's eyes drifted to Jack and his mother, before he nonchalantly put the ball in his other hand against the back of his dad's hand without looking. Jack waited, watching his dad's hand curiously. When nothing happened, Geralf promptly relaxed and told them happily. "I'm interested in catching up. Learning about your... lovely hometown. Do invite me to dinner." His dad didn't look amused, and Jack felt the same. The guy was as rude as the beasts he hunted.

His mom was the one that quickly chimed in before the awkward tension did. "Sure. How about dinner tonight? You must be starving." Geralf grinned at her, almost purring out. "Famished. I can't wait. For now though, where will my men and I be staying? Keep in mind we need plenty of room. Lots of gear to set up and prep. You remember, right? Little John." Jack's dad nodded, pointing across the way to the Inn and adding coolly. "You and your men can stay in the Inn. Your gear can be taken to the stable in the back. There is a spacious room in there that you can use to store your carriages and gear." Geralf turned around to leave, but Jack's dad grabbed Geralf's muscular arm and added coolly. "I would suggest burying the dead outside the walls and... taking care of... your prisoner. We don't have the resources to fight disease and if the man gets loose-" Geralf removed his pistol and fired at the man in the last carriage. The bullet pierced the man's chest, hitting his heart and causing the man to hang limply in his restraints. Lowering his pistol, Geralf told Jack's dad in a chipper voice when he shrugged out. "Problem solved. I'll have my men bury them as you wish. They were just for show anyway. A warning to the rest of the devils that came for us. I know how sentimental some of them can be about their families."

Geralf started to walk away but stopped to add over his shoulder a bit more stoically. "Oh. Speaking of which. Spread the word that I'm lining the graves with bear traps in case the fuckers try to dig up their dead. Wouldn't want some idiot stumbling into one of my traps. Bait is precious. Oiling and cleaning traps takes time. I'll be annoyed if my trap is wasted. Alright?" Jack's dad nodded. While Jack kept his eyes on Geralf as he ordered his men about, he also listened as someone behind him asked his dad. "That is the man you had us send for?" Jack glanced back at his dad, who shook his head and anxiously answered in a low voice. "No. I asked for Sir Anthro Brennan. He was either busy or dead." The villagers started to venture off to try and go about their normal day. Seeing his chance to talk to someone about joining the Huntsmen, Jack tried to approach a Huntsmen that didn't look too busy. Only to have his mother grab his arm to ask him a bit furiously. "Where do you think you are going? You sneak off this morning without a word and then I hear from the blacksmith's daughter that you requested a dagger to be made! Why, Jack? We've talked about this! You are not going into those woods!"

Jack pulled his arm from her, snapping out a bit bitterly. "I want to find her. It's been years since she sent me a letter. She could be sick or dying... or worse." His mother pulled him away from a passing group of people, before telling him after a heavy sigh. "She made her choice. That isn't our fault. And I will not have you chasing her down and endangering your own life in the process! You wanted to keep her Bakery. Do that in her memory! Make the old stubborn goat happy THAT way! Drop this going into the woods shit. Do you understand me?!" Jack backed up from her, raising his hands as he regaled in disbelief. "You hate her! Just admit it! You're hoping she's dead... because it's the only way you are going to keep me trapped in here like YOU!" His mother groaned, starting to tell him that he was wrong, but he didn't want to hear it and jogged off. She yelled out his name, but he didn't care. He was old enough that ignoring her wasn't a crime. Jogging to the little bakery, Jack put his hand on the door. His granny had bought the place but had never done anything with it. It was something she told him that they'd do together, before his mom and her started fighting more and more.

Slipping inside, he pushed his hood back and inhaled the sweet smell that always lingered in the shop. Rolling up the windows to let in the morning light, he made his way into the back and decided to get to work. As much as he wanted to join the Huntsmen, he wasn't in a good head space anymore. Removing his red cloak to hang it up, he pulled on his apron and removed chilled dough that he'd made the night before. Baking always calmed him down and lately he needed to calm down a lot. Jack had just put his first batch of cookies into the oven, when he heard the little bell on the front door ring. Wiping his flour covered hands on his apron, he stepped out from the back and froze. There were few people around his age. One of them was Mark Fischbach. The carpenter's son. He'd never had a reason to talk to him... but damn it... he wanted to. Moving up behind the counter, he tried to keep himself calm and relaxed. This was his one shot to break the ice with him. He didn't want to screw it up. To Be Continued...