His parents were down-stairs; they never went to sleep until they knew he was laying still in his bed. They must have heard him pacing and were now sitting at the table concerned that their son was going to have another bad night. If they saw him head out at this hour they'd just worry even more. He'd climb out of the window and return before they'd notice he was gone. He was tired of causing them heartache. This idea of his....it would hurt them too, but at least they'd have some peace afterward. He grabbed his tattered jacket and quietly opened the window.

He hadn't done this since he was a child.

Back then, he and the others would meet after night fall and have the best of times while everyone else was asleep. They'd play games; hide-and-seek was far more challenging in the dark. Or they'd go spy on the inn, the only place in town open at night, and try to listen in on what the adults spoke among themselves. Whoever brought back the most interesting gossip was the winner, whoever got caught would lose.

They'd even venture out into the woods, as a test of courage. He'd always win that one, going further and staying longer than anyone else. That game had been his idea, of course. Great Mother's mercy, had he been a stupid kid. He had been dragging his friends into danger since childhood, it seems. There weren't any monsters back then, but wolves and bears were regular visitors. The grown-ups always warned them to never go into the woods alone, but they wanted to prove they were as brave as their elders. One hungry, wayward wolf was all it took to finish a child, and it had simply been pure luck that nothing happened to anybody back then. Stupid, stupid kid. And he had stayed stupid. No one had died then, but Buck had to go and rectify that. Galb, Bolovan, Rokhau, Marou; they all had been his friends, and all were now dead. Egbrim's arm got ripped off; Mullber was still ailing in bed from his wounds; Nad lost his mind to madness after staring into the creature’s eyes for too long. The others escaped mostly intact, but with scars that would never fully heal.  They were probably at the prayhouse now too. Meeting their eyes was going to be hardest part. If they could bear to hear him out just one more time, he'd promise to pay his dues to them. He took one deep breath, and stepped out.

________________________________________________________________________________

The air was brisk, the cold cutting into his flesh mercilessly. His jacket was barely of any help, but it had been difficult enough to climb down the vine even without a thick winter coat weighing him down. He walked fast with large steps, but didn't run. It was easier to pay attention to surrounding sounds this way, in case something was creeping around in the shadows. Buck had gotten used to having street lights while down in the south-western provinces. He didn't feel as comfortable as he used to be, walking around in complete darkness, monsters or not. And he wasn't the only one. He could catch the occasional flicker of the candle light inside the houses. Most buildings around here didn't even have a fireplace, and any form of electricity was completely out of the question. Before, when it got dark, people just went to bed. Now, there was at least one candle burning in each household every night, and at least one person staying up to watch over it. At least the local tallow business was getting a profit from this.

There, just one more turn around the corner. He contemplated going in through the backdoor to observe the group and the discussion secretly from the side before making his presence known. Feel the room so to speak, and  assess whether or not it was safe for him to approach them. One the other hand, if he went in that way he'd might just chicken out and leave. By using the main entrance, he had no choice but to stay and face everyone.

One pause to collect himself, one more deep breath, and he swiftly turned the corner -

And stopped dead in his tracks. Blinked. Froze.

There was something moving in front of the prayhouse's entrance. It was as black as the darkness surrounding it and the only reason he was able to notice it was because of its erratic back and forth movement.

It was the creature. What else could it be?

He was right, the prayhouse wasn't any safer. The large number of people was what must have attracted it all the way over here. It found its way right to the center of town, and was about to burst in and slaughter everyone. He couldn't let that happen. He had to rush it. No, it would just kill him instantly, and that would ultimately help no one. He had to yell, as loudly as he could. Get its attention, while warning the others at the same time. Maybe enough would manage to escape by the time it was done with him. It wouldn't save all, he realized this. Some would die, but if he could help save just a few, it would be worth it.

Except he couldn't get his throat to make a sound. He couldn't even get himself to start breathing. He wanted to make noise, any noise, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Buck could feel his lips moving, trying to form words, but there was no strength in his chest to push out any sound. He couldn't even whimper.

Again. He was going to stand by and watch people die, again.

Please, please, please no.

And then it stepped forward. The prayhouse was one of the only well lit structures in town, with a large chandelier and several other candelabras illuminating the interior. Some of that light was spilling out into the street from the round glass window hanging above the double doors. As it approached the steps leading up to those doors and stood in the sallow light, Buck could finally make out its actual shape and size. 

It...was a man.