Bad men and a total creep

Barton noticed them right away it was hard not to. Ketterville was a very modern town. Cobbled roads, street lamps, brightly colored well insulated homes. Everywhere was an affected small town prettiness. Far away from the capital of Tommer these people were still well off. Then in start contrary all amongst them were a rough sort. Men dressed in furs and hides, like barbarians from the mountains. Men with wild beards and feral eyes. Gnarled nails, dirty, and smelling like a pack of wet dogs.

They were an eyesore and yet the people of Ketterville seemed happy to see them. Everywhere these ratty wild men walked, people greeted them warmly. The answer why came to Barton as he nailed up a poster for the tea house. These men had money. Silver coins and large shiny paper bills seemed to sprout from their hands, and their antiquated leather purses were bulging. Prospective customers maybe? The people of the town seemed to think so as well.

He kept on nailing his little flier. The paper was be-spelled so all who saw it would want a strong cup of tea, and a biscuit. Mind altering enchantments of any kind were wildly illegal in all civilized countries, so Barton had been especially careful to pen the finely wrought spells small amongst shimmering black ink.

In the distance, no longer the tea house, he spotted Zora walking into the main square. She was dressed in her long blue coat, and looked rested. Better sleep was an enchantment they had both agreed to. When she saw him she cracked a little smile. Zora moved towards him in her distinctive way. Not lady-like, no sway to her hips, she was all shoulders and tightly coiled thigh muscle. The prowl of a she-wolf.

She stopped in front of him and rocked on her heels in a very youthful excited way, but never unbalanced. “Fuck, this place stinks. Barton, let’s leave as soon as possible.”

“Oh yeah, what does it smell like?”

“Smells like shit, dog, human, and ****. Only the worst smells.” She wrinkled her nose distastefully.

Barton paused for a moment. “****?”

“Yeah, ****.” She looked around, and then froze. Her face clenching menacingly. Barton immediately turned to where her eyes were locked. One of the dirty men was unloading a cart. A cart filled with wolf pelts. A low growl built in Zora’s throat.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t do that here. It’s not worth it, Zora come on.” He grabbed her by the elbow and tried to pull her away from the square. She was stiff, but in current form he was stronger than her and managed to drag her towards the main thoroughfare. “They’re animals Zora, they die, they’re killed, it’s civilization, we can’t…”

“NO, Barton.” He turned to look at her, startled. Her eyes were a golden yellow, her teeth like daggers, and her muscles were swelling. “No. They aren’t just wolves.” Hot tears rolled down her angry savage face. “Shifters are there. Mixed in with the wolves. Corpses of my people still transformed. Barton…”

He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her tears. She flinched but then let him. After he was done he handed it to her. She took it after a moment.

“Zora, do you…” there was a heavy pause, “do you want to get involved?”

Her features slowly eased back to human. “No. No Barton. No. You know. We can’t get involved.” She handed him back his handkerchief.

“Okay. How about we get something to eat?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.”

Heading to a large bustling tavern off the central avenue was a mistake. Inside was nothing but loudly carousing hunters, and trappers. Here and there they even had as of yet unsold bundles of their pelts. Zora stiffened before finally sitting. Barton ordered them two apple schnapps and Zora downed them both. He ordered two more and some stew. It was a warm delicious hearty stew, though it cost a pretty penny. Zora’s eyes locked with the dish. She was unmoving, and wooden as she skewered a potato.

“Hello friends.” A particularly thin and greasy hunter helped himself to a chair next to Barton. Barton cursed and began weaving a spell to make the man go away. “Name’s Remarco, and you two are?” He waited for their names.

“No offense, but we’re not in the mood for small talk.” Barton said gruffly.

The man picked at some dirt underneath his nails. “Well, well, well, offense taken.” He said jovially, “because I am in the mood to make new friends, and I can’t be stopped when I get in my moods.”

“Fuck off.” Growled Zora.

Remarco smiled. “Hey, you’re kind of pretty underneath all that snarl. Have I seen you before pretty lady?”

Barton pushed the reflex to empty his flagon of ale unto his own crotch, into Remarco’s brain. The man kept smiling as his arm came alive and he doused his pants. “So, what’s your name pretty lady.” He purred, reaching for. He never stopped smiling.

Barton pushed his hand away. “The lady said to fuck off. I suggest you do so.”

Remarco didn’t seem to notice Barton, still studying Zora. “You look familiar pretty lady.”

“Zora, we’re leaving.” He took her hand, and the two of them quickly made for the door. Remarco didn’t follow, he simply wolf whistled as they went. “So the pretty lady’s name is Zora. Bye, bye, Zora!”

Remarco half stood up from the table and slid Zora’s unfinished stew towards him, chuckling. As they left he was already downing it in big slurps. Barton’s he left untouched.

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