Out Of The Forest

Camren has seen Werewolves in their beast forms before, but God's the Zotal was something.

In the place were a tall and handsome dark man had been now stood a tall and magnificent wolf. It's deep red fur glinted ominously in the dimly lit forest, glowing orange eyes gleaming with predatory intensity as they glowered at the Witch. It snapped it's large jaws open, spit leaking between it's giant fangs as it snarled angrily. It towered over them all with it's height of 17ft, and bulging muscles that tensed as it crouched, the scar that ran vertically from it's left eye to it's jaw only made it more threatening.

The Zotal is no Blessed Wolf but there is certainly Warrior blood running in his viens, no normal Werewolf grew so large or had such a dominating presence.

Teal hair is already whimpering, knees planted on the floor as she bares her neck in submission. Green hair is physically struggling not to bow, but it's red hair that really surprised Camren, apart from turning a shade paler she is perfectly fine over such dominance.

Their eyes meet for a split second and red hair is the first to look away from Camren. The same thought swimming in there mind: why is the other not submitting?

Unlike the struggling Werewolves the Witch looks unimpressed. If anything she looks angry and irritated, glaring at the Werewolf as though he is nothing but a nuisance.

"Transpose." Her command is icy, voice ringing coldly through the forest.

The Werewolf doesn't heed her command, if anything, he growls more fiercely, angry at her command. He snaps, paws hitting the ground with a force that shakes the forest as he approaches the Witch. The gleam in his eyes is clear: he wants to kill the Witch.

She smirks darkly, yellow eyes glowing as her magic swirls around her, it moved fiercely encircling the Werewolf mid run and sending him crashing into a tree, the Werewolf isn't discouraged though, it snarls eyes turning a dark shade of red.

"Foolish." Camren shares green hair's sentiment but doesn't say a word. The Witch will win, it's clear as day who's superior between them. A horrifying thought sinks into Camren's mind: the world had always been focused on Werewolves and Vampires, yet a powerful race has reamined hidden in the back. For Gods sake a 17ft wolf was being tossed by a 5'3ft lady.

Nature itself seemed to aid her, and she wielded it perfectly: the earth surrounding the Werewolf sunk, confining it. It growled angrily, panic rippling through it. Veins slithered from trees like venomous serpents, wrapping around the Werewolf until they binded him in a tight hold, crushing and suffocating.

"I said transpose." The Werewolf growled defiantly. He knew he had lost yet the Warrior blood in him dared him to bow, to cower before this woman and he would rather die beore he did. He roared again, the sound low but stubborn.

A dark purple mist swirled around him and the Werewolf screamed, it's pain and anguish clear in it's howl, the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. The other Werewolves flinched, but no one dared to incurr the wrath of the Witch.

"Transpose." This time it obeyed; slowly, begrudgingly and painfully it transposed.

Camren had heard of powerful Alpha's being able to force a Werewolf to Transpose. But not a Witch, never had he read about such despite his deep obsession with books. If such a thing was possible, he would have seen it some before now. Could all Witches do it or was this one just an anomaly.

The process between transposing from mam to beast was always something fascinating and horrifying to watch. Bones creaking and reshaping, fur receding for smooth skin covered in clothes to take it's place and form shrinking.

A few seconds is all it take for the Zotal to be back in his human form, skin slicked with sweat and covered in burns; the angry red wounds looked horrifying. Orange eyes filled with fear and shame locked on the Witch. He struggles to contain groans of pain, but not a single iota of pity appears on the Witch's icy features, she glares at him as though she is barely containing herself from ripping him to pieces.

She pays the injured Werewolf no attention, turning to address the other Werewolves who had played mute spectators instead.

"Anybody else has the stupid idea of fighting me?" Silence was the only answer to her question. "I will make the clear to you just once, if any of you try to cross I will not be so kind." Could leaving a man in burns be considered kind?

"I will show you a fate worse than that." She points to the splattered corpse of the creature. "I am not your friend, I am simply escorting you to your doom and Gods knows I don't get paid enough for that." She rolled her eyes. "The next time you dare me, you will find out there are things more terrifying than the beasts who hide under the shadows of this forest. I am sure Lord Bloodthorne won't mind a few damaged goods." She smirked darkly.

"Nice speech." Camren's clapped mockingly, he rolled his eyes because what could possibly make his day better than hearing a villain speech while standing in the middle of a creepy forset filled with hungry beasts as he reeks from blood.

"Thanks." She mutters dryly, unimpressed by the way she glowers darkly at him and turns to lead the way. Clearly she can't wait to be rid of them, well the feeling is mutual.

"You really are something." Green hair chuckles as she stares at Camren with an odd look. Camren isn't sure if it's a compliment or an insult, but he has heard worst things so he will chug this one as a compliment.

******

They walk for hours nonstop, and while everyone else seems fine, Camren's legs are killing him and his lungs are burning from pain. A dark and depressing aura has encircled everyone, each quaking with the thought of the fate that awaited them outside of this forest. Where the monsters out there any better than the one's within?

But Camren can't be bothered to care about his aching limbs. It's been long he felt fear, he had locked that emotion away when his father who was bleeding to death in his arms when he was only five told him to brave and he has been, always been. For his mother, for his sisters.

Yet, that same fear slithered on his skin like the cold scales of a snake, it constricted around him until he could barely breathe. Each step forward felt like a walk towards death, the heavy weight of uncertainty burdening his shoulders. The fear of the unknown, a new life of slavery was what awaited them all outside the darkness of the forest.

Camren had never imagined the way he would die, nobody did really, but he never thought it would be like this.

Maybe I truly am cursed. Rejected by the Moon and now sent to a horrifying end as a blood slave.

But his mother and sisters would live, they would probably never forget him, mourn him all their lives, by they would live and they would be safe.

I will be brave. Camren clenched his hands, no matter what waited for him, he would face it, fight it, because it was all he had been doing all his life, fighting, winning and surviving and this time it would be no different.

All too soon, they were out of the forest, for a few minutes the forest had become more comforting and safe for the Werewolves, the Witch definitely doesn't share the sentiment because a smile; her first genuine smile graces her lips once she sees the cars packed a few feet from them.

"Lady Whitewood, it's been a long time." Camren was no Vampire specialist, but he thought he knew what he was expecting after his run in with Lord Magnus, now he takes in the Vampires appearance with shock.

There are five Vampires leaning against the two sleek black cars, each dressed in a black suit that clung to their lean and tall figures. They towered above them all easily with their height of 10ft, their pale skin looked unhealthy as though they lacked blood: which given the fact that they were Vampires was certainly not far from the truth. Their skin was smooth and hairless, too smooth, it looked disturbing. Their lack of nose had Camren wondering how they breathed, their three eyes which were a light red colour were framed by pale eyelashes. Their dark hair was the only thing about them that had colour. Camren could not help but shiver from their low temperature, gods they were living freezers.

Camren was not the only one observing them though, for all the others and the same wide eyed, horrified look, the realization that this was what would be feeding from them settling in uneasily. The Vampires certainly noticed their stares, but they paid them no attention. Food is mainly noticed when you are hungry, right?

"Where's my payment." She was clearly in no mood for light talk.

"The Lord will give it you himself." Camren noticed that they did not open their mouth to speak. Their top red eye glowing whenever they spoke, and a deep voice would echo, the sound jarring as though they were speaking directly inside your head.

"And where is he?" She cuts them an icy glance.

"At the manor. He invites you to have dinner with him Miss Amelia." Another speaks.

"It's Lady Whitewood to you." Amelia snaps coldly. "Forgive me, but I am unable to accept this dinner invitation." She sounds anything but apologetic.

"Why?" Their eyes rake over her figure coolly. "You do not seem hurt."

"I said I refuse, tell your Lord we can have dinner some other time." Amelia's tone turns frigid. "My payment?" She stretches open a palm.

"Lady Whitewood, Lord..." Amelia silences him with a sharp glare.

"Do you want to provoke me Nilphir?" Her eyes glow with an intensity only magic is capable of. "I said tell your Lord next time."

Camren watched as the Vampires exchange looks between themselves as though unsure of which decision to make. It so clear that they respect their Lord but they also fear the Witch. Camren's eyes narrowed, even the Vampires were terrified of her.

One of them steps forward and hands Amelia a black briefcase. She doesn't bother to check what it contains as though this is a transfer that has been done hundreds of times and she already trust's the other party.

"We will tell our Lord to reschedule, hopefully we will see you soon." Camren is as horrified as the others when the Vampire open it's mouth to speak. It's jaw splits horrifyingly to the back of it's head, mouth a gaping black abyss filled with sharp fangs and a flickering red tongue.

Dear Selene was that why they didn't talk in the first place? They certainly did better without it. Camren offers a silent prayer to the gods above, and they must have been wide awake because the Vampire closed it's mouth thankfully.

Amelia makes a non-committal sound, she certainly isn't going to honour that invitation anytime soon. And then she's gone, and in a whirl of dark feathers and purple mist.

With the Witch gone, the Vampires turn their eyes to the Werewolves. It's just them now.