System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 92
The rain fell like a curtain, thick silver threads stabbing through the gaps in the pines, soaking the Werewolf’s fur. It hunched its back and walked step by step, the thick pads of its feet thudding “thud, thud, thud” into the sodden earth.
“Enough, stop. This distance is just right for a talk.”
The Werewolf halted thirty feet away, its arms folded across its chest, ghost-fire green pupils fixed on the two of them. Tawny Falcon Tawn and Owlcat Fenn sat, one on each shoulder, nuzzling its furry cheeks with intimate affection.
“What is the purpose of inviting us here at this hour?” Roy asked, crossbow trained on the dark shape, voice sharp with caution.
“I bear you no ill will, do not pull that trigger carelessly. Wound me if you must, but if you wound Fenn or Tawn, there will be no talk to be had.”
“Believe me,” Roy said, “my hand is steady and my aim true; I will not accidentally harm the two of them.”
“Very well.” The Werewolf cast a glance at the Witcher. Letho showed no excess reaction, merely regarded the beast calmly.
“I suppose you discovered my identity this morning.”
“Indeed.” Letho answered. “We thought you were hiding in Shaerrawedd, never imagined you had been in the caravan with us all along.”
“Sigh...” The Werewolf lowered its long muzzle and sighed, “I knew those bastards last night would cause trouble!”
It lifted its head suddenly, a sincere note in the green of its eyes, “But I had no choice. The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma is my home, the troupe are my family. I could not allow those bandits to harm my family, so I had to remove the threat first.”
Its hot tongue licked a daggerlike claw as it asked, “Do you two find fault with my actions?”
“No fault...” The Witcher said matter-of-factly, “They were highwaymen. Men who ply such trade rarely claim innocence; even if you had not acted, we would have put them down.”
A low, wolfish chuckle escaped the Werewolf, “You are enlightened. You Witchers wander the world and have slain many ‘wrongdoers’ yourselves, yes?”
Letho gave no reply; or rather, his silence was assent. He had seen eighty years, hands that could not be clean of blood; more than a few deservedly so.
To kill a few brigands was, for him, a mere lift of the hand.
Seeing their faces, the Werewolf relaxed a little, “Though I become a monster, as you have seen I have not lost my reason; my claws have never tasted the blood of innocents.”
Its voice trembled faintly as it turned to them, “Will you strike at me tonight?”
Roy thought a moment, his starry eyes fixed on those green pupils, and said earnestly, “We are no saviors, and you are no slaughterer of the innocent. If you had not lured us out, we would not have troubled you. Live peacefully, part ways at Ellander, and that is the end of it.”
“Then will you keep my secret?”
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