The Wolfmen

"Across the moors, near the Grisham Farm." Doctor Havermyer knocked back the last of the his sherry.
"So you believe us now?" said Mr Edwards.
The Doctor paused then very reluctantly nodded.
Mr Edwards gave a sharp nod in return. His relief at the Doctor’s admission was almost palpable. "The farmer's are livid you know, won't stand for it. They're losing too much livestock now. There must at least eight of them and it's spreading fast.” Edwards stepped forward to place a hand on Havermyer’s shoulder, “If we don't catch the beasts they'll turn the whole village before summer."

The Doctor stared into the fire, his wiry brows knitted together. "This is the stuff of fairy tales, Edwards. Sheep ravaged. Carcasses strewn across the hilltops. Children missing. Ghastly sightings. Do you really think it’s...?"
"What other explanation is there?” said Edwards, “You've seen it yourself."
The Doctor groaned and passed a heavy hand across his eyes. "I know, I just can't believe it."
The weight of it hung in the air between them.
"I've spoken to the outer farms,” said Edwards, “we'll assemble tomorrow at dawn to hunt them down."
Havermyer's head snapped up, "so soon?"
"Soon?” said Edwards, “We’ve been suffering these abominable creatures for almost two months. It's alright for those living in the town centre but out on the ridge it’s an entirely different matter."
"Yes, yes, I understand."
"You'll come?"

The Doctor raised his shaggy head, his eyes burning red as the firelight silhouetted his muzzle. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he lay his ears flat against his head, black lips curling back to reveal a row of pointed canines.
"I'll come. If there really are humans on the moors you'll need me."

Words: 293
Image courtesy of: Genjihl