That this land harboured werewolves is not improbable, as some of that wandering band of elves seemed to think. When one of them insisted that he heard a howling, I seized the opportunity, and taking up my great axe, dove into the first clump of trees through which the road dived, and searched thoroughly. The creature left his stamp all upon the ground on the Hill. He belongs to a bad breed, the most ancient of ancient evil, and might still prowl in the forest by the man-town, so it was there that I ventured next.
In a small piece of land, half shrouded in trees, stand some hovels of the rudest construction, roofs of turf, and walls blotched with mud. This hamlet is far from any road, is reached only by a path over moorland and through forest, and is seldom visited by strangers. I met a couple, a thin, somber-looking cottager and his suspicious wife, and she told me, had I come sooner, I might have lent a hand, for something broke into the farm at night and killed all the cattle. Hearing this I could not close an eye, and throwing back my head uttered a great howl, my challenge to the werewolf, and sprinted off to the pasturage field. There I saw pools of blood, and dead oxen, bitten through the throat.
As everyone should know, after feasting the werewolf finds a place to rest and sleep off its meal, but is no less full of rage and the bottomless evil of the Master whose powers and passions he has assumed. I hunted high and low for the beast, in caves, and in thickets, but could not find him; so I returned to the farmers, and cautioned them about traveling at night, and to refrain from wearing wolf-skins as clothing, not even as the lining for a pair of shoes, as this will attract the creature’s anger. The men of this little town heeded my warning, and did not reject my advice, excepting one, a surly dour-faced man by the uncouth name of Joyner, who insisted that it was not a werewolf, but a large shaggy grey bear which had rent the cattle. I fear my talk made Joyner pluck up his spirits, and so excited his curiosity, that he swore to the rest of the men that there was no such thing as a werewolf, and he would find the savage bear and kill it. He left the village, and later that day, a black dog was observed running over the country: a very bad omen. I told Joyner’s wife that she would probably see her husband again, although I did not mention if he would be alive or dead. When I left the hamlet, the poor farmers were still digging a moat around their land, as I instructed, and it should be as wide as six ells, and the water as deep as a man’s chest, because then the werewolf will not cross it, not usually.
I acknowledge that I have been quite unsuccessful in finding the creature, but I have found its traces in all directions: this is because the werewolf cannot remain long in any place, but is driven forth by an irresistible hunger. And also, I suspect, because it knows I am on its trail.
