Werewolf hunting rules

Clayton led the tomb robber back into the woods. He looked back from time to time to make sure that Donna wasn't following.

The little girl obviously showed signs of movement, but was warned by his eyes that she stepped back.

They walked through the half-melted snow and mud toward the place where they first met.

It didn't snow today, but the clouds were thick and the sun didn't shine that brightly.

The river bank was just ahead. When he was about to walk out of the forest, Clayton suddenly stopped at the boundary line formed by the shade of the trees. The tomb robber took two steps forward out of habit and was almost close to his back before he realized what he was doing.

"Are you there?"

The grave robber still aimed his gun at Clayton, but his eyes flicked around suspiciously, looking at the river bank. His true purpose had not been allowed, and he feared that his companions would now return and discover his own actions.

This behavior made him less focused until Clayton turned his head.

The antique dealer just tilted his shoulder slightly to the left, his face turned back in violation of the entire human body structure, and his slightly bright yellow eyes stared at him coldly in the darkness.

"Yes, we've arrived."

The corners of the werewolf's mouth were split almost to the base of the ears, with all the jagged fangs on display.

This terrifying situation made the tomb robber temporarily unable to remember what he was going to do, but his finger reflexively pulled the trigger.

The gun didn't go off.

His fingers could no longer tighten.

Because Clayton's finger was just behind the trigger, blocking the mechanism's movement like a piece of iron.

The distance between them was so close that in almost an instant, the werewolf disappeared from his sight and appeared behind him. The left palm, which was larger than an ordinary person, wrapped the flintlock and his hand together, and was still tightening it tightly. The sound of the fingers breaking was only slightly smaller than the sound of dead branches breaking in the forest.

Faced with such an unconfrontable enemy, the tomb robber wanted to scream. He finally realized that he regretted it and would rather receive the cruelest punishment from Easter Island to escape from here, but it was too late.

The werewolf's fingers were on his neck, strangling his windpipe, leaving only a little space for him to breathe, but not enough to make a sound. His face turned red, and he scratched the hand on his neck desperately. From the corner of his eye, he saw the white-toothed mouth opening and closing beside his ears, and the angry growl penetrated deep into his heart like a brand.

"How dare you threaten my family in front of me?!"

Creighton's heart breaks at the thought of another family member fearing for his life.

He should have killed the tomb robber in an instant, but the anger in his heart urged the werewolf not to do so. He wanted the bastard to suffer torture before dying.

Ignoring the tearful pleading eyes, after crushing one of the tomb robber's hands, Clayton inserted his left hand into his mouth that was "not exposed to direct sunlight", and pierced his tongue with his wolf-shaped fingers. The whole thing was torn open, and several teeth were pried out, leaving him unable to speak anymore.

The werewolf was not satisfied until now. He flipped the guy who brought bad luck to the ground and ended his waist with a heavy stomp, making him lose the possibility of escaping.

Inevitably, the werewolf once again felt the appetite due to anger, and the realization that this crude instinct was taking effect made him angrier. The cycle of conflicts finally made him fall into irreversible rage.

He raised his legs and stepped on the tomb robber's head while whimpering. The solid soles of his boots crushed the flesh and made it sink deep into the soil.

Clayton had no mercy. He watched with cold eyes as the twisted body gradually lost its ability to struggle under his feet. Torturing people did not make the werewolf feel happy, but the current incident made him feel that it was a responsibility.

He must inflict pain on his enemies who hurt his family.

If it was just a threat to himself, Clayton would choose to hand it back to Winston and let the people on Easter Island handle it on their own, but this bastard actually planned to kill Donna as well. If not, he didn't have to let the girl wait where she was.

The tomb robber threatened Donna to stay where she was, but he was afraid that she would go to the town for help.

Creighton could not forgive the attempt.

The messy straw suddenly fell from his waist. He was startled and found that the straw doll that Donna gave him had broken into pieces.

It may be that the range of movement just now was too large and it was damaged.

He regained his composure a little, gathered the straw and stuffed it into his pocket, then realized he had to dispose of the body. This was not to guard against Winston, but to avoid being found by the locals in Gevaux and causing trouble.

Clayton was both a member of the Presbyterian Church and a peace officer. Even if he killed the tomb robber openly, no one would pursue him. However, if he did so, he would have to dispose of the body in strict accordance with the regulations, which would increase the time he would stay in the local area.

Now he just wanted to take Donna back to the city as soon as possible. Once the bad luck issue was resolved in Gevo, he had no interest in staying any longer.

Clayton smoothed away the traces of violence and dragged the body to the river. A broken tree trunk that was stranded caught his eye.

The tree shape of that section of tree is still intact, no different from other deciduous trees. However, due to being soaked for too long, the bark has rotted, and the texture has taken on a texture like wet black wool felt, while the roots of the tree have completely disappeared. It was preserved, and a longitudinal crack appeared in the lower part. It can be seen that the inside has been hollowed out for a long time, which may be the reason why it appeared in the river.

He checked the body for the last time. There were some folded documents and papers in the coat pocket. Clayton thought that these might be related to the bad luck jewelry, but he didn't have time to take a closer look, and there were no extra pockets on the clothes, so he had to take off the body's coat, and then He took off his coat, put on the tomb robber's clothes inside, and then resumed his outer clothes.

The clothes had some smell of blood and rotten earth, but it was still within his tolerance.

He lifted the body, stuffed it into the hollow tree trunk, dug some soil to seal the break at the bottom, and then pushed the dead tree into the river, letting it be carried away by the current. He was familiar with such driftwood. It wouldn't take long for it to lose its buoyancy and sink to the bottom due to the increased degree of decay, and no one would see the body again.

After doing all this, Clayton knelt down on the river bank, leaned over and held up the cold river water with his palm to drink, to relieve the hunger and thirst caused by the wolf blood.

"uncle."

Donna's sudden voice made his back completely straighten.

He didn't bother to look back and washed his hands in the water again. After making sure that there was no blood left, he stood up and turned around. Seeing the girl standing twenty yards away, the bright red color of the hood made the dry forest and wetland seem to come alive.

He didn't dare to lean over and could only stand there and said angrily. "You didn't listen to me again!"

"I'm worried about you!"

Donna's eyes were red, and she staggered over and hugged his arm.

This made Clayton immediately lose his temper. He became at a loss and didn't know how to deal with this situation.

No one had ever relied on him so much.

"Where is the bad guy?" the little girl asked, lying on his arm.

Clayton's heart calmed down again. He hugged his niece and patted her back gently while skillfully weaving a lie: "He got what he wanted, so he left. In fact, I was about to Look for you."

When he said this, he looked at the driftwood in the river, hoping that the truth behind the lie would float faster.

"I hope you're okay." Donna took a breath, her voice trembling, her hand still holding Clayton's arm, but her body almost slid down, Clayton's face became tense, and he smelled the blood that was gradually getting stronger from her body. taste.

He helped his niece up and found that her forehead was bleeding, and the delicate white silk skirt was also seeping blood. The blood had even flowed to the instep of her feet.

"I accidentally fell." Donna explained weakly in his arms.

If not for this, she should have come earlier.

"Doctor." Clayton also wanted to go see the doctor, but he remembered that the doctor was fishing somewhere at the moment, and he couldn't help but get angry. He used the vervain ointment he found in his saddle bag to do a simple treatment on Donna's head and legs to stop the bleeding, then picked her up and strode toward the town.

"Let's go back to find Julius. That guy has good medical skills and he will definitely not leave any scars on you."

He saw a half-foot-long wound on Donna's calf, and a scratch on the corner of her eyebrow. Ugly scars were such a big blow to a girl!

He regretted not bringing Julius out, otherwise there would be no need for the situation to deteriorate to this point - one of them could deal with the tomb robbers, and the other would take care of Donna.

"I don't care if there are scars or not." The girl huddled up but still had the strength to argue.

Facing the wounded, Clayton could only respond, for fear that her emotions would affect the wound.

As they passed the way they came, Clayton saw the revolver he had left behind still on the snow. He hugged Donna and couldn't free his hands, so he used a clever trick to kick it up high. Then he raised his neck and bit it.

Donna removed the gun from between his teeth and explained before he could ask a question.

"It's broken."

"I believe you." Clayton said without any hesitation.

When they walked back to the hotel, Chud Osmar was standing behind the unrepaired railing on the second floor smoking a cigarette. He looked surprised after seeing their miserable state.

"The one with green hair!"

He shouted over his shoulder, calling Julius out.

Clayton took Donna, who was already asleep, upstairs, let her lie down on the bed in the room, and then asked Julius to close the door and mix the potion.

Julius spread his coat on the table, accurately took out the glass bottles he wanted from the complicated pockets and arranged them in order to prepare for emergencies.

"What on earth did you do?" he asked angrily while sorting it out. "Someone was injured after I went out for a while. Is this the girl who was injured?"

"It's a little unexpected. Let's talk about it later when we have time." Clayton answered him.

The uncle covered his forehead in annoyance and paced back and forth in the room.

After a while, Julius obtained the finished potion through complicated techniques. He walked to the bedside with the bottle in hand, and saw the revolver in the arms of the sleeping girl.

"Didn't your guns have any effect?" He turned around and asked.

Clayton stopped and looked haggard: "We didn't use it, and it's broken."

Julius poured the potion into Donna, then gently pulled the revolver out of her arm, checked the barrel with a dangerous posture, and thought gloomily for a few seconds. Finally, he said something that Clayton couldn't understand.

"If she hadn't become like this, I would have thought you were teaming up to trick me."