Every few minutes the mournful howl filled the air, seeming to come from all directions at once. But those sounds weren't what troubled Delia. After almost another hour of walking, Delia had begun to suspect she was being watched and followed.

It could have been the howling creature that stalked her, but Delia did not feel it was. She'd been around less than savory circles in London, Birmingham, and Edinburgh to know when the predator was human. And the way the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, Delia was quite positive she was dealing with humanity.

Slowly, she slid her free hand into a side pocket of her bag, feeling for the .25 caliber four-shot pistol that she had put there. Except her hand came away empty. She dug deeper and surprisingly her hand kept going. And kept going.

"Well, isn't that just the cherry on top," Delia muttered as she stared at her hand poking out from the bottom of the pocket, threads from the material's rip snagging in one of her rings. "Lovely."

Who knew where or when the bag had torn. The pistol her late father had given her could be in her car's boot or could be in the dirt a mile or so back. Either way, the weapon was lost and the brief moment of security that Delia had felt vanished.

"Did ya lose your bobble, lass?" a man asked, his voice light and cheerful as he stepped away from a thicket of brambles a few yards behind Delia. "Is this what yer lookin' fer?"

Delia began to respond, but closed her mouth as the shadowed man held something up for her to see. The early night was dark, but she could just make out the small outline of her pistol in the man's hand.

"I have one of me own," a different voice said, causing Delia to whip back around and come face to face with a gentleman that had less than perfect dental hygiene. Even in the dim twilight, Delia could see a set of browned and rotten teeth poking out from behind lips that were framed by a scraggly beard and mustache.

The man held up a pistol that was much larger than the one Delia had lost.

"Now, lass," the first man said, joining Delia and the man of the scraggly beard and large pistol. "Let's have a look inside that satchel of yers. Set it down, now, and open it up."

"I'm expected by my–," was all Delia managed to say before the butt of the scraggly man's pistol found her left cheek.

She spun around and fell to her hands and knees, blood instantly flowing from the gash the pistol butt had so expertly created.

"Did we say ta speak, lass?" the first man asked. "Did we?"

"That's a question for ya," the scraggly beard man said, nudging Delia with the tip of his boot. "Now ya are gonna speak."

"No," Delia said.

"No what?"

"No, you did not ask me to speak," Delia responded.

"Good. Good. You ain't thick," the first man said. "So stay quiet unless we tell ya to make a noise. Otherwise–."

The man never finished the sentence.

A massive black shape flew through the air and collided with his side, sending him sprawling across the dirt road. The man tried to get up onto his hands and knees, but the weight of what hit him kept him face down in the dirt.

A low, forceful growl came from the massive canine shape that stood atop the man's back.

"Bloody christ…" the scraggly beard man whispered as the black shape turned its head to show a single glowing eye in its massive canine head. "Oh, my Lord. Oh my Lord…"

The huge head whipped back around and gripped the back of the first man's neck in its jaws. The man screamed, but the scream was short lived as there was an even more audible crunch and snap. The man's body went slack and the massive canine stepped away then turned to face the scraggly beard man full on.

The scraggly beard man lifted his pistol and aimed, but even that quick motion took up too much time. The black hound was on him in a split second, the pistol firing harmlessly up into the air as the man collapsed onto the ground. He screamed for the animal to stop, to get off, to go away.

Then, just like his comrade, his scream was ended with a horrific crunch and snap, followed by a wet gurgle.

Delia was frozen in place. She stayed on her hands and knees, her eyes cast down to the road, terrified, blood dripping from her cheek. She heard the creature sniffing about then she felt warm breath on her neck.

The creature gave a slight whine and very soft bark then padded off.

Delia stayed put.

The black hound whined again, its bark that time slightly louder.

Delia dared to lift her head and look in the animal's direction.

The one eye glowed green like a phantom light set against the pitch black of the hound's fur. It waited in the middle of the road, a slight wag to its tail.

After another round of whining, Delia slowly got to her feet, dusted herself off, picked up her bag, avoided looking at the two dead men, and gave the black hound a nod.

"Suppose I owe you some thanks," she said and the black hound barked then turned and trotted off down the road. After a few yards, it stopped and looked back. "What? You expect me to follow you, is that it?"

A quiet bark.

"Yes, well…" Delia finally glanced at the dead men. She gulped and nodded. "A fine idea."

***

She never got closer than ten or so yards to the hound. She also did not feel there was any danger if she had gotten closer, but better safe than sorry…

It was only a short walk of thirty minutes before Delia saw the beginnings of civilization. Another ten minutes and she could make out the lights of a small village and, thankfully, the sign to the local pub lit by torches and swaying slightly in the night's breeze.

"Well, I suppose I am so ever thankful that…" Delia paused. The black hound was gone.

The animal had been right in front of her only a second before, its huge body silhouetted by the dim lights of the village. But in a blink it was no longer there.

"Alright…"

Delia hurried down the dirt lane to the pub's welcoming front door. She paused as she reached for the handle, giving the darkness outside the village one last look.

"Thank you," she whispered, then opened the door and stepped inside, grateful for the warmth of a roaring fire and the friendly sound of human beings laughing and telling stories.

A long, mournful howl drifted through the air as the door closed behind Delia and sealed out the night and the memories of the road.