Sixteen years later...

Chaise

The heels of Chaise's boots dug into the damp earth below. He was close. It'd been nearly two hours that he'd been tracking his quarry. There was no doubt that the moment he sensed it, the creature also realized his presence. He planted one hand on a log vaulting over the top of it, his other held high in the air for balance. A foul odor crept into his nostrils, like sweat and leather. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of himself, yeah it was impossible to think that the beast hadn't caught his scent yet.

Chaise's legs had begun to burn what seemed like eons ago. It wasn't pain or even soreness. It was a sensation all their own, an intense scorching of the muscles; but the claws of a werewolf would feel more than intense if he stopped, so he kept up the pace. A marathon run he could do, he had conditioned himself for that, but this beast was pushing him to his limit. It was an unusual tempo, the stalking portion of a werewolf's hunt usually didn't last as long as this. It was almost as if it was trying to tire him out before the inevitable encounter. Chaise was beginning to wonder who was hunting who.

A branch snapped underfoot, prompting him to look back, the log remained unshattered. He ran the attack patterns from previous hunts through his head. A flanked attack? If it attacked at that angle it would lose ground but only for a moment before it gained the upper hand. It must be getting close. Chaise's hand shot to his hip and quickly loaded an arrow into his crossbow firing a shot off into the woods. The motion was fast and precise. The dart sored into the undergrowth becoming swallowed by the forest around him. Something large crashed, as the foliage shook violently. So it was favoring his left side. The lupine creature's footsteps finally became heard as it began to charge. A small smirk flashed on his face. This was going to be close. Chaise pushed himself to run as fast as his legs would carry him. He broke into a clearing with tall trees. Made it.

Now the werewolf would have to show itself. He leaped fueled by adrenaline and keen reflexes. Death could happen in an instant, but sometimes life flashed in slow motion. The large shape of the predator sprung from the tree line and into the clearing. Chaise held his breath as a cloud of spores erupted beneath him in a haze of noxious greenish-yellow smoke. He fought the urge to expel as his body collided with the sturdy trunk of a tree. His daggers easily pierced the thick skin of the bark allowing him to quickly scale up the ancient oak. He needed to get out of range of the weapon he threw so that he could breathe freely again.

Chaise would miss the contraption, after all making a spore bomb was labor-intensive but the collapsible weapon's powerful chemicals would keep him alive a few seconds longer. The fumes from the specially gathered mushrooms wouldn't be enough to drop a wolf but should keep it disorientated long enough for him to reach the next phase of his plan.

Chaise looked down at the forest floor from his new perch his knives already sheathed. The fungi smoke had dissipated but the creature had vanished along with it. This wasn't part of the plan. The tree gave a violent shudder, almost shaking him from his branch. Nope, it wasn't gone at all. Chaise leaped into the air, avoiding the massive claws of the werewolf by inches. The monster displayed its superior jumping abilities and followed him, now airborne he had nowhere to hide, and Chaise had it right where he wanted it. He reached out grabbing a rope that he planted earlier. Wheels clicked and whirred in the distance as his trap sprung into motion. Two crossbows, hidden underneath carefully laid piles of leaves fired.

Chaise coiled his body bringing his knees into his chest forming the smallest human ball he possibly could. Arrows whistled past him, carrying a net in their wake, and the monster collapsed mid-air, now tethered in his trap. He released the rope unfurling and flipping through the canopy. His sharp daggers again pierced the tree's hide but this time a wooden fist met his jaw. Chaise groaned upon impact but had no time to check for loose teeth. He pulled his twin weapons from the oak, dropped to the forest floor, and immediately rushed to the wolf's side. He drew his sword, an elegant work of steel that tapered into a curve. A gift from a friend. The slight crescent shape was just enough to allow a slashing cut for beheading werewolves, without sacrificing its ability to be thrust through a vampire's heart. A fine length of silver ran along the top half of the blade to ensure it did its job. Before the beast had a chance to escape he swung this piece of art down hard but stopped short.

"I win." Chaise smiled.