Night of the Hunter (Monologue)

Richard staggered through the pine forest slowly, looking around constantly for movement in the undergrowth of bushes and brambles. It was odd. He could tell by the smell and texture of the soil that he was in Austrailia but the vegetation he could see was entirely out of place. And that wasn't the only thing that bothered him...

There was complete silence.

There was no wind running through the trees. There was no insects chirping or rustling. There was no rabbits burrowing, no bird chirping and no deer prancing. It was seemed to be a completely dead area and yet he could smell something... something wrong about the area.

It was the smell of blood but with no obvious source. It was the smell of wet fur without any evidence of furry little animals, or even much water. It was the smell of decay and death that only came from the corpse of something which had been eaten while still alive.

Sniffing the air like a cautious animal, he stiffened suddenly when he realised that a scent was rapidly approaching him and it reeked of predator. Richard thought furiously. He couldn't risk using his feral rage. If one of the wounds re-opened when he was in the rage the blood loss would be massive. So instead he gritted his teeth as he fingers turned into claws and his teeth sharpened. He would fight this predator on its own terms.

Almost without warning a blurry, furry, shape exploded out of the bushes near him. Richard ducked under the blur and spun on the spot to face it when he landed. The blood drained from his face as he watched the werewolf, it's dark fur matted down with blood, turn on the ground and growl at him. For the first time in years, Richard froze in terror. The creature in front of him was one of the best killing machines in the world and it's bite would give him the same curse. Swallowing down his fear, Richard gritted his teeth as the werewolf in front of him roared it's intent at him. Finding his resolve, a deep and burning desire to live to see Briony again, Richard roared in return. The creature was startled by the return of it's challenge and that was enough opportunity for Richard to strike.

Ducking under the beast's instinctive swipe at his head, he stabbed his right hand forwards, his claws allowing him to spear the werewolf straight through the stomach. The werewolf roared in pain as Richard threw his body weight into the attack, toppling the two of them. As the beast flailed, Richard knelt on top of it, pinning its arms to the ground with his knees. The werewolf howled in frustration and lunged forwards to take a bite out of him, playing right into Richard's hands. Richard's hands darted out and grabbed the sides of the struggling beast's head. With gritted teeth, Richard quickly twisted the head to the left.

A sickening crack resounded through the area and the werewolf became went completely limp.

Panting slightly, Richard stood up from the werewolf to the sounds of howling from nearby. With his heart in his throat Richard did what came naturally and ran as fast as he could from the scene.

Richard was panting heavily now as he raced through the perfect replica of a Sweedish pine forest, at least two werewolves on his tail from what he could tell. They were crashing and bounding through the same undergrowth that he himself had to run through in an effort to shake them off his tail, which was obviously not working. Leaping over a fallen tree, Richard decided that he needed to come up with a better plan. After all, he was just a regular human being and he wasn't going to be able to outrun werewolves the way he was.

A shattering sound from behind him made Richard wince at the implications. The werewolves were getting impatient, so much so that they'd opted to run through the dead tree rather than jump over it.

Taking the time out from panting long enough to string several curse words together, Richard decided that he needed to come up with a plan faster.

A flash of inspiration came to him and he frantically scanned the ground ahead of him for any loose stones. Finding some that looked ideal, he dipped down in mid-run to scoop a handful of them up. Looking down at the stones he rummaged around for one that was at least not rounded. Finding one which was pointing at one end, he breathed a sigh of relief until he felt the back of his shirt tear from the werewolf just behind him. Holding the stone in the palm of his right hand, Richard spun round to face the werewolf breathing down on him.

Richard tripped over backwards and the werewolf followed him in an effort to pounce on him. Gritting his teeth, Richard pointed the palm with the rock at the werewolf and fired a wandless banishing charm. The rock was launched at high speeds into, and through, the werewolf's throat. Richard hit the ground and rolled to the right to avoid being pinned underneath the dead weight of the werewolf, which was desparately clawing at the gaping hole in it's throat. Richard didn't stop and continued to run as the other werewolves once again began to give chase.