England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St. George, St. George's churchyard
5 November 1898, 02:41 hrs.

For a brief moment, their eyes met full of oppressive foreboding. Then, abruptly, the searchers began to move. Cries for help stabbed into the night. The shouting seemed to come from all directions, but Benjamin was sure that it was only due to the plain and its distance from the village. A loud, bloodcurdling howl joined it and Benjamin felt his heart stumble. Crowford grasped the fact as quickly as he did: they had heard the howl in the forest. But now it sounded much closer.

Footsteps drummed beneath them like a heartbeat. Earth and leaves smacked as they ran across the graveyard and rushed out of the gate. Then, by one of the trees, Crowford stopped suddenly and reached for his coat. The momentum, however, swept the slimmer Seeker along with him. The latter then almost lost his balance on the slippery path down the hill. Caught up in the momentum, they both almost fell. They staggered a step and Ben just managed to grab Crowford's arm, which helped him to regain his footing.

While Ben seemed barely out of breath, Crowford was already struggling for air. "You mustn't... see us coming out of the... Cemetery!" Kyle groaned between heavy breaths. He pointed to the narrow path to the village. "You go to the village. I'll see what I can find out!" he continued. Ben's brow furrowed, a thousand questions on his lips. But they had no time to waste. What if someone else became a victim because of this, or they missed clues!!! So he nodded quickly and his coat fluttered behind him as he hurried towards the houses.

When Ben reached the edge of the village, he slowed down just in time. Crowford was right, it would only be suspicious if he came from the direction of the cemetery. Especially at this ungodly hour and in his present earth-smeared state. So he crept through the back alleys. Along narrow, well-worn footpaths, some overgrown with wild grass. Behind the Skirrid Inn building, in its backyard, Ben hastily reached into a water barrel. It was filled with rainwater, but it would have to do for the moment. He shoveled some of the cold water onto his face to wash away dirt and grime. He brushed the dirt and leaves from his coat, stroked his hair once, and then reached for the door handle of the back entrance.

Ben's heart pounded like a guest in his chest, demanding entry to the building. But then the latch blocked. The door was locked. Ben uttered a silent curse, but it did no good. Voices echoed through the side alley to him and cautiously he crept to the corner of the building to peek through.

A few people had gathered in the marketplace. He saw torches and lanterns, candles behind protective hands, and people in nightclothes, and overcoats. A confusion he took advantage of. Quickly he slipped through the dark alley and from there behind a few rushing men into the tangle of people, so that hopefully no one noticed when he joined them. More and more lights lit up in the houses. A woman looked out of one of the windows, blinking wearily. A larger crowd had formed next to the fountain. Elly, too, stood there in slippers with her knitted shawl gathered in front of her chest, and Baltimore formed the center of the crowd. A woman tugged at his coat and reassuringly he put his hands on her shoulders.

"Please, calm down." pleaded Baltimore urgently, but the woman seemed completely beside herself.

"Don't stand there!" she cried angrily. Her shoulders shook and tears smeared her face. Her eyes were wide and her neck throbbed with a racing pulse.

Men cast tense glances at each other, lanterns dangled, making the scene seem even more agitated with the restless flickering light. A few rushed up with guns, even pitchforks, bringing coats and more lights. Beside one of the men, a dog barked excitedly, needing to be kept on a tight leash.

"What happened?" Ben let his eyes wander. What he saw were agitation, fear, and faces that testified to the fact that people did not know how to deal with what had happened. He had a bad feeling about this.
Baltimore's eyes fastened on the doctor. "A wolf attacked." he began tersely, but his words sounded strangely rough and unpolished. That there was more to it Benjamin knew immediately.

"It wasn't a wolf! It was a beast!" The pale lady's fingers dug into the constable's coat again. "He was mighty Henry!" her voice trembled, as did her whole body, but certainly not from the cold. One of the men caringly placed a cloak over her shoulders and Baltimore reached for the cramped hands on his lapels. "Please, Sophie, calm down," he said emphatically, but to no avail. They were stale words.

"Me calm down?!" It fanned the fire of her desperate anger and her voice rolled over. "Don't stand there! This beast is chasing my daughter!" she groaned, pulling all the harder on the beadle.

"That's what we're doing Sophie! James and Lyle get their rifles and we'll give chase right away!" the latter tried to placate the agitated mother, a sob escaping from her throat into the night air. "It took her... it just ripped her out of our house!"

Benjamin's gaze slid from the people to Baltimore. The woman was beside herself and completely out of her mind. The constable himself seemed equally overwhelmed by the situation and Benjamin understood him. No one could quite grasp what was going on. An older man with grey temples told Ben in a hushed tone: a large wolf had broken down the back door of the house and dragged the girl out. Her mother must have been the first one downstairs and, out of sheer panic, hit the monster with an iron skillet. In desperation, the young girl seemed to have fled into the night and the wolf pursued her. It drove her away from the village into the mist and towards the forest. The mother claimed it was a beast. So big that it could barely fit through the door, with glowing yellow eyes. What was true and what was fantasy from the shock was hard to say. But her daughter was gone. Her sobs were heartbreaking and though her husband was visibly trying to be a support to her, his face too was worried and pale."Do you have a gun?"

"Excuse me?" Ben turned his head to Henry Baltimore, who had approached him. The latter looked to him and it took the Seeker a moment to pick up the thread of the conversation. "Yes, I am armed. I own two revolvers." He answered truthfully.
Ben wondered if Crowford was carrying a gun. He didn't seem like the type and that worried him a little. He didn't know where the other seeker was, or what he was doing or planning to do. Let alone if he could defend himself. Would they find Crowford's body later, too? The thought put a rough lump in his stomach. So far, in this worry-ridden mess, at least no one seemed to notice Kyle's absence.

Baltimore nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. If we're about to go after a wolf in the woods who dragged a girl from her home, I want everyone to have a gun with them." At that moment, the eagerly awaited men finally returned. They brought more guns with them over their shoulders on leather straps.

Hastily the men trudged towards the forest. The dense forest in the distance rose behind the billowing swathes like a pitch-black wall. The autumn haze lay over meadows and fields, thick as an opaque soup, making visibility difficult. Especially at night and with fog, the swamp and fields were dangerous, for one quickly stumbled over hidden holes or got stuck in the nearby bog. But fortunately, the men knew which paths to use.

Fortunately, the trackers quickly found the trail that led from one of the houses on the edge of the village, between tall grass, towards the forest. Long stalks were bent to the side here, cutting a swathe through the mist and greenery. Benjamin's gaze slid away from the damp stalks and the mist, up to the sky. Round and full, the moon stood there, embraced by silvery white light."This can't be a coincidence." He murmured softly to himself as they hurriedly took the steps. A dead man had disappeared from his grave and Ben thought of all the dead animals they had found. The memory of the clacking and rattling of the bones Kyle had thrown drove his heart beat faster. Ben tightened his fingers around the pommel of his revolver.

Where the trail had been clear in the tall grass on the peat fields, it immediately became harder in the enveloping darkness of the forest. They followed a trail of bent branches and blood. One of the men found it smeared on foliage and in the leaves. The atmosphere was tense to the breaking point. Under the tops of the first, the forest almost completely swallowed up the moonlight. Only under the deciduous trees that shed their garb in autumn did brighter patches make it to the ground. The wavering lanterns made shadows darker and created fleeing phantoms in the corner of the eye. Every crackle and rustle was alarming. 

But at the same time, leaves and branches rustled and crackled beneath their footsteps. Again and again, glances flitted around, lanterns raised or lowered. Hardly anyone dared to speak, they were all too tense. No one spoke up, but the chance of finding the girl alive dwindled with every second. Nevertheless, they all listened to the darkness in the hope of hearing something.

"Why would a wolf kidnap a girl from her house?!" one of the other men murmured to his buddy. Ben, on the other hand, thought he already knew the answer: There was something fishy going on here. Although he was sure of it and this certainty tasted sallow on his tongue, he could not say it between these men. It was better if all these sheep continued to remain ignorant of how many of these wolves were really up to mischief out there. Instead of responding, therefore, he hissed to the men and put his finger to his lips. "Quiet! Otherwise, we might not hear them," he murmured. In fact, he only wanted to stop further scaremongering. Ben remained alert and tense, his gaze driving intently into the darkness again and again.

For a while, they trudged into the forest. But at some point, they had to stop and a short time later admit to themselves that they had lost the trail. Here, where there were fewer bushes, but only trees, roots, and overgrown moss, they did not find any broken branches or pressed grasses. Every scent was lost in the numerous foliage and undergrowth. The hunter's dog only whined and kept close to its master.

"There's no value in this. We'll split up here." Announced then all at once one of the trackers and Baltimore seconded the decision. Ben was far from comfortable with the idea of splitting up the group in a swampy area, in the middle of the night and under the circumstances. In general, Benjamin did not have a good feeling about anything they were doing.

Hesitantly, the men fanned out a little and searched the area. Now some of the search party called out for the girl named Sandra. They were on the lookout for clues, but the fog and darkness made it difficult. The grey clouds wafted over the forest floor. Sometimes a tree trunk overgrown with ferns or moss, a small hill, or a bush would rise from its veil. Ben looked for signs that this wolf or the girl could have come through here. Bent branches, flattened patches of grass, churned-up leaves - maybe even blood.

Soon it became harder to keep the others in sight. Distantly, a light wavered, then Benjamin stepped around a larger rock jutting out of the foliage. Behind it, the terrain dropped a little and deep cracks furrowed the earth. Some of the cracks were filled with foliage, in others, the water stood like black ink. Ben raised the lantern, its glow groping its way into rolling mist and dark corners, yet refusing to reveal more. Gnarled trees, overgrown with mosses, blocked a wide view. Benjamin turned to the side... but at that moment the light of the others had already disappeared.

Crap. "Baltimore!" he called out, for it was the only name he knew. "Hello? Henry?" His voice echoed into the darkness. Presumably, his shout was quickly swallowed up by the rows of dense trunks. Somewhere distant he thought he heard a rustling and trudged towards it. But after minutes of seeing nothing and no one, not even a soul answered, he had to admit the bitter fact: He had lost his way and lost the others.

Ben uttered a suppressed curse. His trousers were as clammy as his shoes. By now, no one would have noticed the earth on him anymore. On the ground, the moonlight drew blotchy pictures of silver-white specks. It smelled of moss and resin, the heavy smell of grasses and swamp.

Suddenly something caught his eye. Between all the darkness, a glimmer of light. Maybe a lantern, because it flickered and twisted. As if it were struggling with the wind, but Ben felt no breeze. Only the clammy breath of the mist.

"Hello!" called Ben into the darkness of the forest. He squinted his eyes, raised the lantern a little higher, and gripped the revolver's handle tightly. The flame danced restlessly by the moss-covered branches of a fallen tree trunk. The roots had been torn out of the earth and stretched like frozen tentacles towards the dull moonlight that fell through the treetops.

Ben's heart was beating up to his throat. A shadowy silhouette, then two glowing patches of eyes that made his blood run cold. His heartbeat stumbled, Ben froze and his body went so stiff it hurt. Then suddenly it was gone. Just like that, as if it had been nothing more than a reflection in the light! Ben paused for another moment, then started moving again. His heart pounding, he pressed close to one tree, then the next, approaching the spot inch by inch. His eyes searched for the eerie figure in the mist. The rhythm in his chest hurried, but Ben's breathing was steady and even. He knew this rush from the war, but it was important to remain calm. He would have liked to take a sip now, but he didn't want to let either the light or the gun out of his hand.

His fingers had become colder as he pressed his back against the nearest tree. A little more light filtered through the treetops and Ben dared to look up briefly. Branches were broken, bent downwards, and leaves thinned out at this point. In the endless distance, he saw the moon in the firmament. Nothing else.

Suddenly a low, hoarse groan sounded. Ben pressed himself harder against the tree. The bark was cold and rough. Every muscle in his body was under tension. He held his breath just as hard and crept crouched against the gnarled roots. The rustling of leaves betrayed him, a small branch cracked and he wanted to curse. He inhaled deeply until the buttons of his coat tightened. Then he leaped around the fallen tree, gun at the ready. The lantern wavered, the light from it making shadows dance excitedly around him. Ben's eyes snapped open and for a moment he felt sick.

There in the foliage, among the dirt and leaves in his disheveled hair, lay Crowford. He was pale as death, sweat glistening in the dull light of his lantern. He hung propped against the trunk on the piled earth like a discarded puppet whose strings had been carelessly cut. One arm simply lay motionless beside him, the other pressed its hand to his chest. His breathing was heavy and intermittent.

"Kyle?" Ben couldn't believe his eyes for a moment. Then he tore them open and rushed towards the other seeker. Something had smeared his lips and chin, in the little light Ben only now noticed the dark spots that had speckled his chest. Like mottled ink, they blackened the otherwise fastidiously groomed clothes. Blood. The doctor turned off the lamp, his gaze slid around again, then his cool fingers felt for the Seeker's neck and pulse. 

"Please..." he murmured. "Please don't be dead..."