"Find a way to move Tedros back to the palace, I'll handle this beast myself" he said as he separated himself from Tedros. He stood up from the ground, and with his right hand he wiped off the mucus which rolled down his nostrils, taking a walk before he leaped off the ground with the intentions of running towards his palace.
Running against a fast moving beast was an Herculean task, yet as he ran, he ran with the hopes of getting a horse and a sword of which he could use to catch up with the beast.
His kingdom was his treasure, and his people, he considered as his jewels. He was aware of what rampage would spread especially in a region where those who resided were of weaker power and their only option would be to flee.
If he had lost Tedros whom he had considered a son, he would rather give himself up for his people than let a creature transmit bane through their innocent minds.
And just as he hoped, the heavens had answered by letting him cross paths with his already slain men, laying on the green fields with swords scattered round the ground.
He stopped by and picked up one, swinging it to test its strength before he continued with his run. A horse neighed from the side, dragging his attention and forcing him to cease his movement.
It was a white horse, tied to a teak tree with its saddle already prepared. He ran towards the horse, untied it from the tree. He placed his leg on the stirrup, pushing himself up as he placed his hand on the rise and horn of the saddle before he balanced on the horse.
With his hands holding the reins of the horse, he slapped it against the horse in a bid to move. He galloped against the high fields, moving at the same energy and speed as the horse carried him.
He could see from afar, the monster growling, and his people running. He could hear their screams, he could hear their running footsteps, the cries of the little ones who beckoned on their mothers and fathers to save them from the rampage of a certain beast.
His heart yearned for revenge, his hands clenched tightly to his sword as he rode, his face squeezed as he had his eyes set on the beast.
He had something in mind, something which he had never done before. He couldn't care less of the risk involved, rather only on saving the ones who called him king.
He held the reins of the horse tightly, and with his left hand he grabbed the horn of the saddle, taking his left foot from the stirrup of the saddle and gently pushing himself upwards, so as his right feet was placed on the rise of the saddle and his left, placed on the seat of the saddle.
He held the sword as his eyes were fixed on the werewolf whose hands alone was used in the ripping apart of buildings from its foundations.
He maintained his balance on the saddle before he leaped into the air with the sword faced downwards to pierce through the tough skin of the wild beast.
And just as he had imagined, the sword had pierced into its skin, and with the swift movement of the werewolf, he slid down its tough body but still clinged tightly to the sword pierced into it.
But his hands were sweaty, and his struggle for balance was accompanied with loud groaning sounds. Yet as he struggled, his strength failed, and his hands slipped from the sword, and he fell to the ground.
He maintained his balance as he fell to the ground, staring upwards to find a raging beast staring at him with rage filling its ocean blue eyes.
He ducked the attack of the beast, moving sideways as the beast stomped the ground with its fists. And with his swift movement, he was caught by the fists of the beast colliding against his body, throwing him far against a building.
He struggled to pick himself up from the ground, but just like Tedros, his neck was grabbed tightly and dragged against the ground, unto a hard wall where his head collided roughly with the wall.
From the ground, the beast lifted him up from the ground, and high above its head, starting at him with its sharp fangs showed off to frighten him.
And as he stared back, his fear of being bitten was tremendously increased, and he wished within himself, preferring death to living life as a bitten werewolf.
He struggled to breathe, his hands wrapped around the large fists of the beast while he struggled to set himself free.
"I.." he struggled to speak out, "I kept something you!" His choked up voice uttered the words, and he still had his left hand wrapped around its hand while he tried reaching his pocket with his right hand.
He watched as the monster lowered its muzzle towards his neck, slowly sniffing his scent, and letting its tongue journey down his skin as though it enjoyed a certain taste which came with his flesh.
He shrieked at its sudden display of action, and while he thought a beast of such nature and size could definitely admire a human, his hands were still stretched towards his pocket.
He could feel a tiny bite, as though a little fragment of its fangs had pierced his throat, and even when he hissed to display the minute pain he felt, he could feel his fingers touch something, that which he had searched for so long.
A needle it was, like a syringe which had some unknown liquid in it. He had relented, and the bite had become deeper. The beast was biting him deeply, and it seemed as though he had the lowest probability of survival.
The images of the painful transformation had played out in his head, and the fear alone had driven off the hesitation. He drove the pointy needle down the throat of the beast, making sure the liquid flowed down the metal and down its system, never considering if that would be the last action he would play out during his existence.
And just as he had predicted within, his throat was released, and his airflow was unrestricted, and soon he found himself laying on the ground while the beast struggled to survive.
He watched as the werewolf groaned loudly, its hands wrapped around its body as though it struggled to force a transformation. The rough deep sound faded, and what had followed was a feminine cry which drew his attention.
He watched as the feminine cry faded, and a smallish statured being dropped on the ground with a loud thud.
He noticed no movement from that direction, neither did he hear sounds. All that moved were the leaves on the trees, and all his ears could pick up was the whistling sound of the winds.
He crawled over to the who like on the ground, and when his eyes had captured the facials of this certain lady, his countenance changed, and the first word which proceeded from his mouth was, "Abigail".
She was his sister.