Bite of the Lycan
Jeremy stood there. Still under the light of the streetlamp. His eyes shot to the clouded sky, and the moon really was closer to earth that night. Great, and full, and red and big. Right in his face.
There was another rustle, twigs breaking in the treeline just across the street, and then gravel skidding across the pavement. Jeremy felt paralyzed with fear, dread for what he knew, stalked him from those shadows. There he noticed, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a large, black blob of something shrouded under the tree limbs. Jeremy's breath hitched, as eyes of gold opened up, as illuminated a wolfish face, and then, it suddenly grew from a short black mass, to a tall and lengthy black mass, and from there. It took an elongated step towards the street lamp on it's side of the road. A tight skinned paw with curve, yellow stained claws, was first disclosed by the beam of light, and as it bent forward, half a wolf's ragged head, protruded, the fur in matted clumps across it's ghoulish, long and boney body. Then it stepped, almost purposefully into the light completely. It's whole body moving, expanding and deflating with every labored breath, and warm dry frost blew clouds out of wet nostrils and a gnarly fanged mouth. Its neck and down the length of it's beastly spine was heavily maned, but arms and chest and legs were naked with grey skin, veiney and painfully muscular, ribs protruding sickly. Like a large, mangy wolf that could stand on two legs, stared back at Jeremy. Seemingly calm, and deranged.
Jeremy wanted to cry, run away, but he was captivated by it's stare. It didn't care that Jeremy could see it now. That's all it ever wanted. That's when the beast howled a grueling, raspy howl, that started out high and loud before it reduced to a ground shaking bellow, and that's when it lunged at Jeremy.
