Marshmallows

There is no sex this story. More character background is provided in the stories Pancakes and The Arena.

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The leaves gave and occasional crackle or crunching sounds under their feet; it was late fall and the forest floor was blanket with the fallen dried leaves and the occasional patch of white left over from an early snow. Moving silently through a forest was never an easy thing and was a time consuming process as not only did each step need to be carefully thought out an placed but the entire path need to planned as far as visibility allowed. The visibility problem was eased somewhat because it was a cloudless night with a full moon. It was so bright the moonlight even cast shadows.

Even Werewolves were not totally silent when in a hurry and this pack of was in a hurry as they tracked their prey. The blood lust was on them and this time of year prey was scarce in the wilds of central Russia so they rushed to close and make the kill.

Abram was the leader of the back. The oldest and most experienced among them he had begun to form this pack after the last one he was a member of was decimated by hunters and slayers near St. Petersburg two years ago. It was a slow process to build a strong pack because you had to choose member's carefully. A rare combination of strength and intelligence with a degree of submissiveness was desired in the humans you decided to bring over. Strength and intelligence were obvious qualities but submissiveness was also desired so they would not present a serious challenge to your leadership. Pack leaders who ignored this in favor of building a large pack rapidly found themselves trying to hold a weak pack together, torn by dissention and intrigue. No werewolf could last for long on its own, membership in pack was essential but a weak or divisive pack was almost a big a threat to survival as no pack at all.

Increasing a pack size creates its own problems. As a pack grows in size it needs a larger population base to provided enough prey. These means large towns or cities. Many cities already have a pack or packs laying claim to them so your pack must be big and strong enough to carve out its own territory or content itself with feeding on the fringes and staying out of the way of the bigger packs.

With eight werewolves counting himself the pack was getting too large for this rural area. Too many humans start falling victim and it attracts too much attention. In a larger city like Moscow more prey means less attention attracted. Abram also really hated country living. With winter coming on the comforts of a larger city is what he longs for. After this next kill it would be time to move to the city or at least the suburbs. Abram still had some misgivings about his pack. All seven of them were relatively young all in their 20s or early thirties. He had turned them himself these past two years.

In human forms the members of his pack looked like college students, urban professional farmers or miners; which they were before he turned them. In lupine form most were 6'4" to 6' 8" tall 280lbs to 350Lbs. They had a mouth full of fangs and 2" to 3" claws. The fur that covered their muscular bodies was a variation of grays, browns and black and their eyes were solid red orbs. There were three exceptions and these three exceptions were the cause of problems within his pack.

There were three females in his pack. Two of them Alena and Rani were difference in appearance. While the same size as they others Alena's fur was a deep solid coal black while Rani's fur was almost a solid white. Their appearance was not the cause of the problem. Their sexuality was. Alena and Rani had become lovers. While Abram did not care about their sexuality there was only one other female in the Pack, Gelya, and she was his mate. That meant that four remaining male werewolves had to sate their lust with their victims as well as their hunger. This was part of what caused the third problem with pack.

Georgyi was a miner and the first that Abram had brought over for this new pack. At first he was submissive enough but he became more impressed with his own lupine strength. He was almost as large as Abram himself who was 7' 2" and close to 400lbs. Georgyi's growing ego and the lack of a mate created more discontent. Abram refused to allow him to bring over a female of his own. Bringing over a human to the pack was privilege reserved from the pack leader to ensure that the human was suitable. Georgyi resented this and resented Abrams leadership. He had not challenged Abram directly but he had made comments to others about Abram being old man who he was too timid to bring over more to the pack and his caution in picking victims.

In the old days Abram would have simply killed Georgyi but Abram was older by 427 years, wiser now and yes, more cautious. Abram's size was already described. His black fur was streaked with silver due to his age. He had a vertical scar that ran across his right eye from his forehead to his jaw. It was gift from a witch he was fighting just before he ripped her in half. He had five parallel scars across his back from a fight with another werewolf over a hundred years ago. A wound from conventional sources such has knives or bullets healed without a trace. The damage from a blessed, enchanted or magical source or from silver, other werewolves, vampires, demons etc. would leave signs of damage depending on the power of the blessing, magic or enchantment involved.

Abram had a wound despite having received some 300 years ago that never fully healed. It was an ugly open wound on his neck. In human form he always wore a scarf or high collar to hide it and in lupine form it was partially hidden by his fur. He had received it when the first pack he was in pushed an attack on a group of what was assumed a group of hunters and slayers. His pack inflected a few casualties on the humans but they ended losing almost everybody in the pack and those few that survived did not escape unscathed. He was a long time in recovering from his wound and while it no longer inhibited him it never fully healed. Abram had learned from the incident that even when the bloodlust and hunger was upon him to be cautious.

Now he was cautious in his dealing with Georgyi. That he could kill Georgyi he did not doubt but there were always risks. There was a chance that Georgyi could injure him severely or even cripple him in the fight and that would end his leadership of pack. More than likely the others would kill him in the fight over who would take his place. Abram also knew that he needed every member if they were to move to the city as planned. As of yet Georgyi had not undermined his leadership and he could tolerate him a little longer. Right now the pressing concern was their current prey.

Something about this prey bothered Abram but he could not put his finger, or claw on it. It was like an itch in the back of his mind. There was something about the prey's faint scent that nagged at him. The prey had moved rapidly though most of the previous night but followed no straight line path but often turned off its route only to double back almost as if to throw them off his trail. They had lost his trail several times the previous night. He had the pack spread out trying to find it again.

At his point Peter let out a howl indicating he had found the trail. Peter was the youngest of his pack a farmhand in origin. The pack moved to Peter's location on a low ridgeline that had been clear cut and was free of vegetation. In the distance they could see the small glow of a campfire.

They approached the fire slowly. The pack circled the fire continuously sniffing the air and looking for possible traps as their circle grew smaller the camp fire was in site. One of the scents puzzled them but the sight they saw was even more puzzling.

Sitting by the fire on a log was a hunched over figure whose features were obscured by a hooded cloak it wore. Abram asked himself "who wears cloaks anymore?" By the human's side was a small bag and across the fire was a backpack. Laying on the backpack out of easy reach was a rifle. The human reached down into the bag a pulled out a small white object and placed on the end of a stick he held over the fire. "Marshmallows?" asked Gelya It was more of a statement than question. It was the scent that had puzzled them. Abram nodded. He did not like this, it felt wrong. A man all by himself in this wildness carelessly leaving his weapon out of reach was too easy. This was a trap he was sure of it but he couldn't say why. There was no sign of anybody else around.

About this time Geogyi let a loud howl eager to go to the attack. Abrams had turned all his senses toward their prey at his point. The howl had brought no action on the human's part. He did not jerk around or go for his weapon. There was no sign of any fear; he could not hear any increase in their prey's heartbeat or breathing. This was most unsettling. At this point Abrams told his pack that they were going to let this one go, he did not like the setup.

Georgyi let out a growl. He saw this as his chance. He was tired of the old man's timidity. They were more powerful than that puny human. It was time to take charge It had been too long since their last kill. Others would surely back him. He challenged Abrams "If you are too afraid to lead an attack at least let me do it." The rest of the pack stepped back from the two of them awaiting the outcome to this challenge. Abrams was about to move to kill Georgyi when the wind finally picked up and blew from the camp toward him. He finally got a full whiff of the prey's scent.

Abrams decided to back down. "Georgyi, you and whomever wants to follow you may lead this attack but" he turned looking at the rest of the pack. I warn those of you who decide to join him in this it will not be an easy kill. We have been lucky and avoided injury and death among our pack. This is only done by showing discretion in picking our prey. We cannot pick a prey who can cause us much harm or one who death or disappearance would attract too much attention nor can we kill too wantonly for the same reason." He looked back at Georgyi. "However those who think I am being over cautious may join Georgyi in this attack and fear no reprisal from me."

Georgyi gave a slight snort in disgust and asked "who is with me?" This was his chance, take out this simple prey and expose Abrams for the weak leader he is. Only two came forward. One was expected. Jean a French tourist who had been on a backpacking trip that had been cut short by Abram. The other, surprisingly, was Alena.

"Alena!" hissed Rani. "What are you doing?" Alena took Rani off to the side and they engaged in a whispered argument. While they were arguing Georgyi looked at the others asking "anyone else?" They just stood there. He knew Jean would join him; he had been working on the Frenchman since he joined the pack and he was just as frustrated by Abram's timidity and the lack of mating prospects. Alena walked over to join him and Jean.

Abram was only mildly surprised by the Frenchman's betrayal he was French after all he reasoned but his view may have been prejudiced by the fact that he was alive during Napoleons invasion of Russia and remembered it well. Alena was another matter. He looked at Rani who only shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. As far as Abram was concerned he rescued the two girls form a life of sex slavery. He brought them over and they had feasted on the body of the girl's pimp together. Alena's betrayal stung a bit. Rani was probably more heartbroken.

The three betrayers took off after the prey. They had decided to come at him from different directions so that when he broke and ran one of them would be prepared to cut him off.

The prey sat at his campfire and from all appearances seemed to be a loan camper or hunter roasting marshmallows. The fire snapped, sparked and hissed due to the high moisture content of the wood. Fortunately there was only an occasional breeze so the smoke went mostly straight up instead of into his face which seems to be the fate of every camper no matter which side of the fire they sit on.

When he heard them approach he closed his eyes. He wanted his night vision preserved for when they attacked. He only opened one eye to put a marshmallow on the stick and hold it toward the fire. The simple wool cloak was draped over his head partially shielding his face from observation. It was not tied or buttoned because he wanted to shed it quickly. The purpose of the cloak was more for concealment than any warmth it gave.

Normally he would make a dark camp with no fire but he was sitting himself out as bait. His chosen campsite was the middle of an old logging camp giving him about 20 yards of relatively clear and flat terrain all round.

The werewolves were taking longer to attack than he expected. Not even they could move that silently and it had been ten minutes since he last heard any noise from them. He knew there was pack of eight of them. He counted them as they followed him. One werewolf could move relatively silently eight less so. He was wondering how long he was going to have to sit here before they made their move, the log was getting uncomfortable then he heard them approach but he could only make out three or four of them. Why were they not all attacking at once? Were they going to attack in waves? Oh well it does not matter either way he thought.

Abram and the four remaining members of his pack had moved to slightly higher ground giving a clear view down into the campsite. The pack lined up on either side of him with Rani on one side and Gelya on the other closest to him. With the bright moon and enhanced werewolf vision they could see their pack members encircle and then become to creep in on their prey.

Georgyi was closest and directly behind. So close that he was in the prey's shadow cast by the fire. Alena was off to the prey's front left about 75 yards ways crouching low because the moonlight denied her complete concealment of darkness. Jean had moved in to scrub growth t0 within 50 yards of the prey and to its right.

Georgyi studied his prey. It showed no sign of awareness of its impending violent horrible death. It just sat on that log holding that damn marshmallow. I t was close enough that his senses detected only a slow steady heart beat and breathing. He detected no sign of fear or any other feelings. Going against Abram on this and successfully leading a kill will enhance his prestige. Perhaps he could take over leadership of the pack. If not maybe with Alena and Jean he could start his own pack. It was time to act. With roar he launched himself at the prey.

Abram and the rest of the pack watched the attack unfold in front of them. The heard Georgyi roar and saw him launch himself at the prey. Almost simultaneously Alena and Jean let out their own roars and charged the prey. The prey did not jump up startled and try to grab the nearby gun. The prey quickly threw off its cloak. It tuned a faced Georgyi in a crouching position. It was dressed in some black medieval looking armor holding a sword and shield that were also black. Not shiny black but black like the shadows cast by the moon.

In the mere seconds it took Georgyi to cover the distance to his prey his brain did not have time to register his prey's strange appearance as a sword blade went straight into his open mouth and exited out the back of his head. Georgyi had no time to react so quick was the prey's movements. The prey took Georgyi head on as he thrust his blade forward he started to deliberately fall backward. It held Georgyi on its shield rolling onto its back, bringing it legs up so it feet they were also holding the werewolf's weight. Letting the momentum carry them the prey rolled up on it its shoulders thrusting with its legs sending Georgyi's now lifeless body off of it and flipping over to land on its back in the fire, smothering most of it.

The prey free of the body continued the backward roll landing on its feet in sort of reverse somersault and turning to face Jean who was almost on it. The prey quickly side stepped Jean's attack jabbing it s sword under Jean's arm and into its heart. Jean's body sank to the ground letting out a loud yelp like an injured dog before expiring.

Alena was on the prey about a second later only to be met by a blow to her head from the shield that sent her sprawling. The prey had almost simultaneous dispatched Jean and neutralized Alena's attack.

Rani seeing this let out a roar and started to go to Alena's aid but Abram gripped her shoulder digging his claws in . "No" he said forcefully "you can do her no good now, you will be too late." Even as he said this the now former prey had separated Alena's head from her body as she staggered to get up.

Rani and some other members of the pack let out howls. Abram ordered them to stand fast. "We can take him" said Rani. "There are still five of us and if we attack all at once he will be ours"

The former prey assumed a crouching position in the camp holding its shield in front him and his sword low behind him. Any attacker would be forced to come at him in a higher stance exposing more of its body. He had turned facing the directions the howls had come from.

"Maybe" Abram responded "Maybe not, did you pay attention to what happened down there? Our intended prey did not show any wasted movement. There was no fancy twirling of his sword, every move inflicted harm." He addressed all of them. "We might take him down but how many of us would be killed or injured in the process? If your senses are strong enough tell me if you can detect any fear in our prey, any sign of physical or emotional stress." He paused. "You won't because there is none. That is not some refugee from a renaissance fair down there but a Paladin."

"A Paladin?" asked Alexi who had worked on a oil rig before Abram brought him over. "I thought they were a myth."

"You mean like werewolves, vampires, witches wizards and demons?" Abram looked down at the Paladin. "They are real enough and I want all of you to commit his scent to memory for as long as I lead this pack we will avoid him. I allowed Georgyi 's rebellion as a lesson to you all that I know what I am talking about; unfortunately two others chose to die with him. The lesson was costly and one we cannot afford to repeat it. The next time one of you chooses to defy me I will kill you. Let us leave this place now. There is easier prey and perhaps a new pack member in a lumber camp west of here."

The werewolves were halfway down the ridge when Abram thought he smelled sulfur and maybe brimstone.

The Paladin was packing up his gear when Satan appeared. He was dressed as a 19th Century Cossack cavalryman to include fur hat, mustache, beard, saber and riding boots.

Carl looked at him and smirked a little. "We have not seen you in a while you missed this week's meeting"

"Been busy if you have not noticed" Satan responded taking a seat on the log by the fire wrinkling his nose at the smell of burning fur as Georgyi's body smoldered on the fire. "You on the other hand seem to be taking more risks; eight werewolves and in Russia."

"To quote one of my favorite TV shows -have gun, will travel-besides only three made the attack the rest got away."

"Still you did not know that only three would attack. You going to track the others down?"

"Not much point trying, they move faster than I can on foot and will avoid me now that they have my scent unless they become a bigger pack. I accepted long ago I can't kill them all. You don't seem to upset by my reducing their number."

"Werewolves are a dime a dozen, I look at it as adding three souls to the collection" Satan saw the package by Carl's foot "oooh marshmallows can I?"

Carl reached down and tossed him the bag. "Here keep them. It had been a long time since I had a roasted marshmallow and then I remembered why, too sweet for me."