Quoted By:
<span class="mu-s">TH-KUNK</span>
Your heart pounded in your throat. You glanced to your left, then in front of you, then down at your leg and back to your left again.
Mary stood atop the rabid creature, her forehead dappled with blood and her right hoof hanging precariously over the wolf's jaw as the creature lay on the ground, conquered for the time being, growling and bleeding and unstable. The wolf was snarling, jerking, resisting like there was no tomorrow as it howled with pain. Its face was visibly mangled below the nose. It threw a claw at Mary's cheek-- she dodged, threw her hoof down--
"Buchanan, boy!!" Steele grabbed your arm and forced you away from the fight. "There's no fighting this! We have to run, now!"
He stumbled over to your trunk and grabbed it, his arms now occupied by all your things, his eyes betraying his words as he never let their gaze leave the sight of combat.
A yowl sounded out through the small area as a bolt of electricity struck the rabid wolf. Mary was nearly thrown off as it jerked mightily to her side, trying to force itself to stand, failing as your sheep held fast and kept it pinned.
Mary bleated, her voice coarsing with static, looking back at you with more determination than you'd ever seen in her beady black eyes. She looked down at her opponent and stamped once more. It was hard not to wince at the loud crack of bone that brought with it, the subseqeunt snapping of bones and gnashing of teeth that was promptly silenced, the pool of blood forming beneath the berserk demon.
One part of you felt sick. The other was fascinated.
Both parts agreed that Steele was right.
You had to go.
<><><><><>
"Who's them new folks ov'r there?"
"Couldn't know 'em. I ain't ever seen them round these parts..."
"Oh, dear, one of them's limpin'! Surely you can do somethin' about that?"
"It doesn't seem to be much of an emergency, sweetheart. And... he's being followed."
"That's... a critter, ain't it?"
Murmuring. Gossip. Rumors.
The moment you limped into town, that was all you could hear.
There was a tangible tension in the air. A thick kind of unease that would bend any knife that dared to slice it.
Every block had multiple soldiers stationed at various parts of it. You couldn't tell from their uniforms, but Steele recognized them as members of the California state militia. "...they bring nothing but bad tidings, Walter."
You glanced to your left. A newsboy was handing out papers titled "The Reading Independent". His advertising quieted the moment you came near. An indescribable fear replaced his standard expression.
The small crowds scattered about him seemed to follow a similar path. One woman shrieked. A man seemed to reach for his armaments, then reconsider.
Mary trotted by your left.
