I
The owls rested on the branches of the trees, hooting to fill the void of the night with the crickets. The light of the full moon pierced through the intertwined leaves of the trees, illuminating the surrounding forest. A gentle wind whispered through the forest towards the clearing. There in the open, there is a small hut surrounded by frangipani flowers near the cliff. The wind plucked the flower crown, sending it flying in the air.
As the flower danced, someone reached out to catch it. The flower is now in the hands of a man. He saw the beautiful flower in his palm. He raised his hand and let the flower dance away again, which slowly disappeared into the air.
His warm breath appears as the temperature begins to cool. His body felt the coldness of the night. As if someone was behind him, his neck felt warm. The owls started squawking loudly, and some flew away from the tree thrones.
Then a low tone began to sound. A female voice hummed from within the dark and silent forest. The man turned to face the silhouette of a woman. She emerged from the darkness, walking slowly and barefoot, taking a small step closer.
Her long hair covered part of her pale face. She stopped and pulled her hair behind the ear to look at the man standing a few steps ahead. When she lifted her hair, the man saw the beautiful face of the woman. The woman smiled at the man, showing that she was harmless. The two stared at each other without a word being exchanged.
"Enjoying the view?" asked the woman with a smile. She walked a few steps forward and stood beside the man.
The two of them watched the view of the beach in the distance, with a small house and boat behind it. Those seas and trees that line the road flanks the wooden house. The moon's shadow reflected on the surface of the glittering sea, illuminating the water with the light it touched.
She glanced at the man standing beside her. He was hiding his real clothes and sword within his thick fur coat. The man placed his hand on the hilt of the sword as the woman stared. The corner of the woman's lips lifted. She took a few steps forward to the edge of the cliff. The man looked at the woman as she covered the moonlight in front of him.
"Why are you here?" asked the woman without looking at the man behind her.
"Down there," the man gave a curt reply, pointing with a glance.
The woman stared at the house in the distance, right by the beach. At night, she saw an old man leave his house. She watched him silently from afar, only looking at him working alone in the middle of the night. She frowned at the old man. While the woman continued to stare at the old fisherman, the man calmly draws his sword. The sound of metal dragging on the sheath cover could be heard in silence.
"That's not true. That's not true!" the woman refused to believe it. She turned his face away from the old man. "I kept him safe, protected him night after night," she put her hand on her own stomach. "Feed him, comfort him," she paused. "Is he going to do all this?" she asked herself.
The saber was already at the tip of the sheath, the man ready to kill.
The woman's arms rose, and she took off her clothes. The white shirt touched the ground, and the woman stood naked. He could only see her silhouette as the woman's body blocked the moonlight. The woman stopped blocking the moonlight and walking circles around the man who was standing still. As she walked away, the man could see her more clearly.
Her back was hollow. He could see through it. The woman's nails grew longer and sharper. She started moaning in tears and turned to the man quickly. Her perfectly healthy body rotted as the moonlight shone on her, and the man could smell her pungent stench.
She shouted loudly to the man. The man could see the woman was shedding a tear. He was holding his own sword as the woman dashed towards him. She started swinging her sharp nails at the man. Every scratch she gave, blocked, her sharp nails created sparks as the claws struck the man's sword. A swift swing hit the man's fur coat and knocked him to the ground, revealing an armor that covered the man's body from shoulder to toe.
The armor was made of boiled leather. On its chest, the creature's claws revealed something beneath the leather armor. He hid the iron beneath the leather armor, doubling the inquisitor's armor. With the outer layer of boiled leather, and iron beneath.
His trousers are the same as the clothes he has. Trousers tucked into calf-high leather boots, with a dagger strapped to the outside of the thigh.
On his waist was a utility pocket that held the man's belongings, as well as a place where a second dagger was tucked away in his body.
The man stepped away from the swing of her claws and swung his sword at the woman, slashing her face bloody. The woman stroked her face, which was dripping blood from her cheek. When she saw blood coming out of her face, the creature screamed loudly at the man. She strike and hit him, sending the man flying and crashing right through the small wooden hut.
The man grunted in pain as he lay on the wooden floor. He noticed she had dislocated his elbow and felt a piece of wood pierced his back. The man stood up slowly and grabbed his elbow before pulling it to fix his arm. He screamed in pain and his breathing started to get faster. He groaned in pain for a moment. After that, he grabbed onto the splinter of wood on his hip and pulled it out. He fell back, lying down in pain. He took a deep breath and exhaled.
He raised himself to his feet and took the sword that had fallen from his hand. When the room seemed unoccupied, the man looked around.
The man was in a dark old hut. He couldn't see anything around him, blinding his eyes in the darkness. The man focused his eyes, making his pupils dilate in the darkness. As the pupils changed, he could see his surroundings. He could see the wooden hut walls crumbled by the age, and in the corner of this empty hut were piles of human and deer bones.
The man approached it and looked at the pile. Human and deer bones piled up like a mountain, almost reaching for the roof of the small hut. While looking around his surroundings, a creaking sound came from the door behind him. He turned quickly, readied his sword. He didn't see the creature, but he could smell its blood dripping just behind a wooden door.
The woman came lunging from behind the knocked down door. The man dodged her claws and cut off one of her arms. She falls down and sees her hand cut off from her body. She let out a shrill scream at the man, then rushed over to him with all her might.
The woman's mouth opened to take a bite. Her fangs wanted to tear the man apart, but the man strangled the creature with his hands. He tried to keep the fangs and hands away from him by restraining the creature. The creature started biting, trying to reach the man's neck.
Next to it was a sharp wooden plank. The man started trying to find a way out. He kicked the creature in the stomach, weakening its body for a moment. The man grabbed a sharp piece of wood and pushed it right through the woman's stomach. She screamed, then kicked the man against the wall. The woman lay in pain and didn't die, her eyes fixed on the man who was bleeding from the wood chips on his back. Both were exhausted. The man felt as if he was about to pass out, but he couldn't. His vision darkened, the balance of the body disappeared. As he tried to get up, the woman started crawling out of the house using one hand.
He pursued the woman who was trying to escape. He used all his strength to crawl, and then he rose from the ground. The man walked with a limp, then grabbed the woman's hair. She screamed as her hair dragged by him out of the hut to the edge of the cliff. She swung her claws to reach the arm of the man who was grabbing her hair, but she couldn't reach it.
He dropped the creature near the cliff overlooking the small house on the beach. One last time, the woman looked at the small house by the beach and there was no one there. The man took a nail from one of his utility bags and buried it deep into the woman's head with his own hand with a beating. The female creature screamed in pain as he planted the nail in the forehead. Not long after screaming, she stopped moving along with her breath.
The man sighed, tired. The air got colder. He crawled to a nearby tree and sat under it, resting.
II
The sun started to rise. The orange sky gives a feeling of warmth. Only open wounds were left to heal. Sitting under a tree, he heard the sound of branches breaking. Then a low-pitched chatter rang out, followed by shouts among the group of people. The man stood up, took his sword which he had left in the hut and ran away from the hut. He walked down the steep hill through the tree line to the little house on the beach.
He walked to the front door of the log house, waiting for an answer. The doorknob turned, and an old man opened the door. He looked at the bloodstained man in surprise. He froze in front of the door because of the blood that the man had.
"Master! There is blood all over your body!" he said as his body shook. "You need help from a doctor, healer, or anyone who can help!" he reached out, offering his help. "Come in. I'll get help while you sleep."
The man covered in blood slowly removed the old man's hand.
"Seems true, but I want to know something," he snorted. "That's not a robber's lair. Did you know that?"
The fisherman gulped, his heartbeat getting faster. He could hear his heart beating and his body moving uncomfortably. The man's eyes opened wide when he realized that the old man had known all along.
"You know about this, didn't you?" he stopped and sat on the fence on the front porch of the fisherman's house.
"Master inquisitor! I didn't mean to harm you. But-" he spoke while trembling.
"But!?" the man's tone rose with anger. "Just pay me," he lowered his voice again, calming himself.
The old man looked worried, then he walked into his own house hesitantly. The bloody man walked to the side of the house and saw a horse tied to a cart in a small stable and the boat that belonged to the old fisherman.
Soon, the fisherman came out with a small bag and approached the inquisitor.
"This is what we agreed on, master. Gold and other things to cover my mistakes." He walked over to the horse and untied the rope that tied it to the cart. "Travel to Nazaire." He brought the horse to the man on a rope and gave him the rope. "You're talking about the return trip to Nazaire before we set the deal, so I'll give you this horse."
The bloodied man mounted his horse as the fisherman watched him not to fall.
"Master inquisitor," said the man. "Did the woman-" he paused and corrected his sentence, "did the demon say anything before you killed her?"
"She said nothing," the man replied. "She died like a demon should."
The fisherman's shoulders lowered and nodded. The inquisitor rode his horse, leaving the old man at home with a sad face. And soon he fell down crying.