Oswald, leaning against a tree, talked with Tom, sitting on a high branch.
"I've made a lot of discoveries about myself lately." Oswald said, his eyes wandering without locking anywhere.
"First. I've been suffering from a severe memory loss for the past months. Not a second we've spent together was affected, only certain nights were forgotten. The issue with it, is that I came back with animal blood on my hands."
Tom was captivated, as always, by his mysterious friend, he had no intention to interrupt him.
"I am suffering from an unknown disease, corrupting my mind and body. I turned into a monster while no one was watching, and I did horrible things. I am letting you choose, as I did for my mother, will you still be my friend after what I'm about to tell you? No, don't answer now."
Oswald looked up, a whooping two meters and a half higher, Tom stared down at him. So to allow the boy to understand how serious was the situation, Oswald jumped next to him, surprising the boy with the softness of his landing on the branch.
"Look carefully, I'm not doing it twice." He said, using the silvery throwing knife to slice a deep cut on his forearm.
Tom winced, and then witnessed the healing process, boiling blood, little steam and closing wound in a few seconds. He took the knife from his friend's hand before asking. "Am I dreaming or what?"
Oswald took back the knife before Tom's stupid move and pinched him. "Or what. I know you saw them, my eyes. You already know I'm abnormal. You know my mother is too. Don't be a fool, there's no way we could've survived a wolf attack with you knocked out. As fantastic as it sounds, the big roar that all of Revel talks about, that's me. I'm the one who shook the valley."
"Impossible. Ozzy, you can't tell me you're sick and show me the greatest blessing of all times."
Oswald shook his head. "I don't get it, either you're stupid or you don't realise how bad is my state of mind." He grabbed Tom's hand and tightened his grip, forcing the knife into the kid's hand. He then plunged the blade from its tip to the handle into his throat.
Tom's grip was inexistent, his hand fell when Oswald let go of it. The knife slowly exited the wound with the bubbling blood never staining its steel. His yellow eyes stared at the petrified boy, he was too immature compared to Oswald to understand everything had consequences.
His voice carried a low growl, Oswald added exploits to his list. He told Tom about the dead cow, and the hanging wolf. "I did it, unconsciously. Back then, I thought I wasn't mentally ill, but then, the full moon happened."
He talked about his capture, and his escape, omitting the existence of Satan, his tormentor and saviour. He wanted to avoid Tom being involved in the mess his mother created.
"How many...?" Tom asked, talking about the headcount.
"I don't know. A hundred? Everyone. I couldn't restrain my own moves, it's like, looking at a rock that falls and expect it to float. Its fall is inevitable, and what you expect is impossible."
Now that Tom had a fitting glare for the situation, Oswald asked again. "Do you still want to be my friend?"
"Sure." Tom replied after a few seconds of awkward silence. He shrugged as they kept staring at each other. What Oswald should've asked is. 'Why are you not fearing me?' But he kept the question for himself, as his friend deserved answers.
"I'm glad... I was afraid to lose a friend today. When you don't have much around you, everything becomes precious." He said. He could now count on Tom, his mind relieved, he let the boy do the first move. After all, standing next to a monster was no easy task.
"So, your body is not a human body? You know, it means you're not onto cannibalism technically." Tom said.
"Yes, indeed..." The boy replied with sorrorful eyes, to him it meant he lost everything he was until now. Thankfully, he was still a son, and a friend.
There was no need for him to throw up. His last meal was not pushing its way up even if he knew its content.
With a faint smile, Oswald talked about the many advantages he had besides regeneration. Touch, hearing, smell, sight. He ended his long explanation with the sense that was affected another way.
"It seems, human meat quiets down the worse of me. Be sure to not be around next time I get hungry. I can't promise anything. I would understand if you wished to put some distance between us. Nothing has been simple lately."
"We can still hang out together. You're seeing this as an excuse to not see me." Tom said, pointing his wounded arm. "Nonetheless it's also a proof you saved my life. So, thank you for protecting me, and for sharing who you are. I'm not backing off. Even though it seems you don't need help to heal, I'll gladly help you recover from what you've seen."
Tom had no big heart. He only had objectives. Oswald was slowly becoming a tool to his hands, remorse was displayed only to fuel future goals.
Meanwhile, Dariel was giving steel traps to Adelmo while Daniela shook hands with the latter. They agreed to make Oswald's life become hell. Adelmo was interested in the religious thing, the knowledge about the fantastic story, because he wanted to mess with the boy. He was entrusted the task to strategically set the traps and maybe, maybe make a lamb or two disappear.
Meryl was busy sewing back all of Oswald's clothes. As if it was magic, the blood stains he brought back every time the bestial instinct took control of him became easier to clean to her. Meryl put a lot of effort and love cleaning his mess.
The next night, because a Spanish spy delivered his message, the Spanish army invaded the French camp. Rumours spread like wildfire, the French camp had been attacked by a pack of wolves, even though no traces of them remained, except paw prints and lacerations on the corpses they left behind.
Because it was weakened, it was the perfect occasion for them to besiege their enemy.