Corea began to whimper as she stood in the doorway of the cottage. Her brother hand wandered off to the cemetery two nights ago to find the source of the undead but had not returned. She knew he had not come home because she had not slept since. She was tired. Incredibly tired now. Her body was weary from the lack of sleep and her taking on the necessary work of caring for the cottage and grandmother while Garen was away. It was a lot of work for a 13-year-old girl, but it was nothing compared to how her fear for her brother weighed on her. She sighed and shut the door. She would check on grandmother and then visit the Wortham's to see if anyone had seen Garen.

The sound of a heavy ceramic plate hitting the ramshackle table snapped Fang back to the tavern. The tavern keeper stood in front of his table, arms crossed.

"Your mutton and your ale," he said.

He turned to head back to his station.

"You can't be sleepin' here either."

Fang waited until the tavern keeper was out of earshot and gave a low growl. His treatment was not surprising to him at all, but that did not mean that Fang had to accept it.

He rolled his heavy shoulders and looked down at the two mutton on his plate. He smelled the herbs, spices, and smoke of the heavy meat and found himself salivating heavily. He peered around the tavern, but now a few patrons had left, but new ones had arrived. None were paying attention to him now, though, and feeling secure enough he unspooled the heavy chains that were slung from one shoulder and set them as gently as he could on the floor. He then reached for the strap that held his blade and removed it, setting the enormous broadsword against the wall. It was good to rest his shoulders.

He smiled as he tore at the first piece of smoked meat. It was the best meal he had in days. Within a couple of minutes, he had consumed the first piece of mutton, and he gulped down the ale greedily. The ale did not sit gently in his stomach, however, and he let out a heavy burp. It did not go unnoticed and a couple of patrons laughed.

"Sorry," Fang whispered.

Fang began eating his second piece of mutton when the tavern door creaked open. He watched a little girl step inside. Her reddish-brown hair was rolled up into circular buns, and she approached the tavern keeper's bar, placing herself on a chair right in front. Fang simply shrugged and returned to his meal.

"Has my brother been by at all, Wortham?" Corea asked.

Wortham, the tavern keeper, did not look up at her as he continued to wipe at a tankard with a grimy cloth. "There's been no sign of him here for a couple of days, Miss. I'm sorry."

He set the tankard down and pulled out a small wooden cup. He dipped it into a barrel and handed it to her, full of rich ale.

"Have a drink and go little one. This isn't a good place to be right now. Go care for your Gran."

Corea was incensed. "Gran is fine! Why can't I stay?"

Wortham sighed and leaned toward her, his heavy form dwarfing her own. He tilted his head towards the other side of the room and placed a finger to his lips, telling her to keep quiet. She turned her glance the direction he gestured and she nearly yelped at the sign of the werewolf sitting in the corner, clumsily eating a gigantic cut of meat.

"He's a werewolf!" she yelped in disbelief.

"He seems harmless enough, but I wouldn't trust him any further than his coin," Wortham muttered.

Corea ignored Wortham's observation. He did not trust anyone.

Corea, however, was already getting an idea.