The graveyard within sight, the stench of rot had grown too powerful for Fang's comfort. He paused for a moment and pulled Corea down from his shoulder and set her on the road.

The girl watched him reach down toward a gulley beside the road and scoop up a rather hefty clump of dirt with his two fingers. He spat into the dirt, rolled the paste mixture around, and rubbed it just beneath his nose. The scent of earth filled Fang's nostrils and brought relief for the decay assaulting his sense. Corea watched the curious display.

He turned to the girl.

"The smell of rotten things is too much for my nose, I'm afraid. Mud masks it."

Corea thought about it a moment and grew keenly aware of the scent herself judging by the sour wrinkles that grew around her nose and lips. She made her way to the same gully and scooped up some dirt. Within moments she had a brown mustache of mud above her lip. She smiled at Fang. He chuckled.

There was a sound of clattering bones but refracted by an enclosed space, making it hard to pinpoint the source. The werewolf fell upon one heavy knee and placed a gigantic hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Listen, it is going to be very, very dangerous in the graveyard. I cannot leave you here, so I need you to be good at hiding."

Corea nodded. "I'm a good hider, I swear."

Fang nodded and drew a knife from his belt loop. It was no more than a rondel in his grip, but in her own hands, it would make for a decent shortsword. He held it out to her.

She stared at him, unsure of what to do. He gestured his open hand to her again, the dagger rolling slightly in his palm. She took it and was caught off guard by the weight, having nearly dropped it. She took a moment to shift her right hand and feel the weight of it.

Fang pushed the blade with a claw.

"This isn't good for cutting, little one. It's a poker. You need to use all your strength and shove it into what you mean to hurt."

Corea took a step back and thrust the dagger forward, a little too close to Fang. He shifted back. Her strength was lacking, which was unsurprising. He rose to his feet and pointed to a nearby tree.

"Use both your hands and throw your whole body into it, little one."

He mimed the gesture.

"You're strong, just small. You need your full strength."

Corea moved to the tree and thrust the dagger toward the tree with both hands. It stuck in. It was a shallow point, but it was enough.

"That tree is harder than a skull. That's what you need to stab."

Corea grimaced and let the dagger fall slack in her hand.

"But I'm not tall enough to reach."

Fang nodded. "Yes, but you are small enough to break their brittle legs and bring them down. Do you understand? Break the legs, regroup, and break the skull with all your strength."

Corea nodded and rested the dagger on her shoulder. Fang wanted to laugh, but her confidence was worth preserving.

"We're heading in now. Stay no more than an arm's length away from me. Alright?"

"My arm, or yours?"

"Mine."

The werewolf and the child began their trudge toward the graveyard.