The red full moon hung high in the cloudless night sky, stirring uneasy feelings within people as bats flitted about, gathering food for the coming winter.
Under the blood-red moonlight, warriors remembered ancient legends: when the blood-red moon is at its highest, demonic wolves from the north would demand tribute from humans. If the people did not offer their flesh, the wolves would tear every living person off the land with their claws and fangs.
Old men and women tell these stories with devotion and fear, scaring many crying and noisy children. Now, upon recalling these tales, they seem absurd and unbelievable, only eliciting a scoff from these battle-hardened warriors who have returned from the depths of hell.
The heads of the wild wolves or Wolf Beastmen that they had chopped off with their own hands could be piled into a small hill. In their eyes, those sharp-eared, furry beasts were merely prey, not fearsome hunters.
