Werewolf VI (the saga continues in a rather continuous way)

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

She lay deep in dream as the final night crawled by. Suddenly she woke, startled by a polite knock at the door. Oromin got up to answer, quite appropriately cautiously, given yesterday's occurences.

She glanced out the window and was relieved to see Lhuna.

"Have you heard any odd noises?" she asked hurriedly. "Seen anything out of the ordinary?" Orominuialwen shook her head sleepily. She had guessed this might happen.

"She's gone... isn't she?" she murmered, not particularly afraid.

"Yes." said the Hunter shortly. "I've been tracking her for hours, but to no avail. Our wolf has given me the slip."

"No, I've not seen her." Oromin paused, remembering. Suddenly a loud noise erupted from Firefoot's home, across the way. Lhuna turned on her heel and sprinted toward the sound. Oromin went back into her home, closing the door and barring it. She made her way quietly to her bed. Her dreams had been uneasy as of late. Unthinkingly, she scrawled a few lines in her nightly journal. It was an odd comment, but perhaps some of the villagers would appreciate the thought behind it.

As Oromin made to climb into bed, a pale white hand grasped her ankle. She screamed, looking down, to see the body of Holbytlass sliding gracefully from under the frame. She transformed inch by inch as her flesh met the moonlight flooding the room. Oromin froze, calm, her pale white night gown swaying in a non-existant breeze.

"The sound..." she murmered. "A diversion?"

Holbytlass laughed throatily. "Very good, my dear. Amazing how swiftly people will chase flashes and bangs, when a little subtlety does the trick in such a neater fashion."

Oromin had seen it coming. Nightmares of this instant had plagued her for days. She stood bravely, face to face with Holbytlass, now fully transformed. She met her eyes without a tremble. Her shoulders were braced, and she smiled tiredly.

"You may kill me, wolf... but you will die for it. Do you doubt me? I have Seen. It is well known who you are, and what you do. The monster within you has taken your soul completely. You are no longer a maiden of the twilight, but a child of the night, bathed in darkness and fear. I do not fear you, and I do not fear my death. Though please," she added. "have pity and slay me swiftly."

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The village woke up the next morning to a raging storm. The wolf had evaded the Hunter and it was guessed that the worst had happened. They convened in the village park once again, soaked to the bone by the falling sheets of rain. The wind buffeted them, and lightening lit the sky.

"T'will be a pity to lose her today.... terribly good chef. So clever too..."

A sudden blinding flash struck the lightening rod affixed to Orominuialwen's home. The villagers looked up and gasped. Arranged amongst large pineapples and peppers, chunks of their first Seer's flesh where skewered upon the pole like some sort of macabre shish-kabob. The village sprinted to her home as fast as physics allowed them. The door was sligthly open.

Cautiously they pushed forward and examined the room. There was a small amount of blood on the floor by the bed, but other than that, no signs of struggle. Firefoot glanced to the bedside table and noted the journal. She read aloud in understanding and wonder:

I found it kind of funny... as well as sad....

The dreams in which I died were the best I ever had.

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DAY has now begun.

Enjoy. You know the rules.

Oh, yes... sorry about the full inbox. I was out buying new toys (a digital camera and HP6 [good book, I recommend it], if you're interested) and couldn't get to my computer to delete until this morning.