It was a tense run from there back to the church. The howls never stopped, slowly growing closer and closer, although they managed to avoid being attacked again. As the church came into view on its hill, Reyland and Griff started shouting things to each other, all well beyond Matthaeus' ability to understand. 

He was lead up the hill by Griff, where the old man, Arthur was waiting for them with a worried look on his face. He held the heavy wooden doors to the church open as they ran through, and it was only as he could finally stop running that Matthaeus noticed how raspy his breathing had become. 

The pains in his ribs at each breath seemed to imply he wasn't as healed as he had thought he was, to say the least. Not to mention the rest of his body, which ached just as bad, especially his left leg and arm. 

"Just what's happening out there?!" Arthur asked, panicked. A surprising number of the townspeople were awake and upright in their beds, listening fearfully to the faint howls in the distance. 

"It's the Blight," Griffith answered. "Arthur, we need tools, quickly. Break down the pews and anything else we can use, and barricade every window and door into this building, now."

The man's worried expression turned to outright panic, before a look of grim resignation crossed his face.

"No."

"No?" Griff asked, a single eyebrow raised in surprise. 

"No, we're not barricading. You're leaving," Arthur growled back firmly. 

"You are aware of our creed, as members of the Order?" Griff replied, standing up to his full height.

"Yes yes, 'spare no effort and no limb in protecting the people', blah blah," Arthur jabbed snidely. "As if any of that matters right now!"

Griff's lip twitched slightly at the butchering of a single line from his order's creed and a frustrated look came over him. 

"Then you should know very well that I cannot leave you behin-"

"And you should know very well that there's nothing you can do for us!" Arthur yelled back, an authority creeping into his voice and demeanor that made him seem years younger. "I may be old, you git, but my ears work as well as ever! I can hear what's out in those hills, even if I'm no monster hunter like you!"

Griff was actually taken aback at the elderly man's impassioned yelling. 

"Even if you can barricade this church, then what? We stay in here, trapped, until we starve? Even if we don't starve, every person in this town is running out of time already, Griffith! I'm no closer to healing this sickness than I was weeks ago, you understand that?"

The elderly man was wracked with a horrible, wheezing cough that shook his body to the core. Griff dashed to his side, lending him a shoulder to lean on as the old man slowly pulled himself back together. 

"You came here with horses, no?" Arthur asked, in a much lower voice. "Take the boy, and run. This town is done for, you're just as aware of that as we are. Your Order exists to save as many lives as possible, no? Then don't waste your own trying to save what's already finished."

Griff met the old man's eyes, and a look of understanding crossed between them. Arthur knew right in that moment that nothing he could say would change Griffith's mind.

"No," Griff said, straightening himself back up. "We aren't going anywhere."

The older man sighed, giving a resigned nod. 

"Mati, fetch my old tools from the basement, would you please?" 

The elderly woman who had stood passively watching until then nodded, before heading down stairs. Griff didn't miss the look she gave him before she went, although whether the look was of approval or disapproval, he couldn't actually tell. Perhaps it had been both. 

Reyland came through the door a second later, with two horses in tow. 

"Griff, I got Lucy and Umber!" He yelled, panting heavily. One of the horses behind him stomped its hoof, shaking its head nervously at the beastly sounds coming from outside. The other stayed passive, hardly reacting to the sounds, just calmly following Reyland through its lead. 

"Good, get them inside and leave them near the doors."

"Aye! C'mon, girls," Reyland barked, guiding them to the side of the room. 

Matthaeus was all but lost in the confusion, as everyone took off to do different things. Griff had moved over to the stack of wooden pews in the corner, where several already lay broken into pieces. The large axe leaning against the wall beside them seemed to imply that they had been using them for firewood, but now Griff had taken ahold of the axe and was raising it high overhead before smashing it down onto the pews. Arthur was helping him, dragging the now loose boards out one by one, and was taking them off to the windows to be nailed up to the walls. Meanwhile, Reyland was dragging the heavy doors shut, and trying to find a way to barricade it from the inside. 

Matthaeus backed up in surprise, as a young man stood up from his cot with a hacking cough, staggering on his feet for a moment. There was a young woman as well, her cot had been pushed up next to the young man's, and she held his hand weakly as he rose, her eyebrows furrowed in worry. 

Reyland caught a glimpse of the young man, as he gained his footing. The townsman seemed a few years older than Reyland himself, somewhere in his early twenties, and Reyland actually recognized him from his first night in the church. The young man was clearly very ill, but there was a determined fire burning in his eyes that Reyland instantly recognized.

"There's an o-old-" The young man wheezed as he tried to speak, as the woman beside him gently patted his back until the coughing went away. "-Old stable beam downstairs. We could drag it up and lay it across the doors, it'll do better than any thin boards you get from the pews."

Reyland didn't so much as stop to think about it, giving the other young man a nod, before the two ran off to the stairs. Well, Reyland ran, and the townsman stumbled after him weakly, which started another coughing fit. 

Matthaeus was just as lost as before, watching everything around him. He couldn't understand any of what people were saying, and the one person who spoke his own language was busy... so he stood confused in the center of the room, watching the others hurriedly work around him. 

He walked slowly towards a window, stepping around various cots filled with restlessly stirring villagers on the way. After seeing the young man from before rise to help out with the effort, several more had managed to drag themselves to their feet. An old, barrel chested man with a black and grey beard down to his belly was the first to rise, pushing himself to his feet with a deep grunt. Matthaeus stopped in front of the man, his eyes wide as he watched what looked like a giant come to life in front of him. The boy was barely as tall as the man's belt, and probably weighed less than a single one of the man's hulking arms. 

"Bahh, can't let these young'uns be doin' all the work, now, can we?" He belted out in a gruff baritone. He rolled his arm around in its socket, and Matthaeus heard the clicks and cracks even from a few feet away. 

"Aye, best to put these old bones to work one last time," another man answered, also rising painfully from his cot. This second man was massive as well, although much leaner. His beard was also shorter and better trimmed, as if he continued to care for it even during his illness. 

A woman choked out a laugh through her coughing next. 

"Well, if these stubborn geezers are getting up, what excuse do I have to stay down, then?" She said merrily, even as her arms shook to push her up from her cot. She was much younger than the two old men, although still somewhere in her forties, with grey hairs already visible on her head. 

Matthaeus watched as one by one, dozens of the townspeople rose from their cots. It was clear most of them had barely even sat upright in weeks, and were running on nothing but sheer willpower... but yet, they continued to rise. Many of them failed as well, struggling and ultimately failing to climb to their feet, some even passing out in the process. 

But soon, there was a small army working on the barricades. When the young man from before and Reyland appeared at the stairs to the basement, struggling to carry a massive, wooden beam up to the main floor, the two massive, bearded men moved to help them. What had been far too heavy for Reyland to carry alone, as the sickly young man next to him was barely able to support his own weight let alone the beam, was suddenly lightened as the others grabbed a hold of it. 

"Come now, Terry! You'll get nowhere in life if you can't learn to put some back into it!" The larger of the two old men bellowed, heaving the beam up onto his shoulder. Through the gap in his beard, a mostly full set of teeth could be seen in a massive grin. 

The young man, Terry, smiled back faintly and gave a sheepish nod. He was leaning heavily on the wall with one hand, but with a renewed vigor, held his end of the beam alongside the other older man, and forced it up the stairs. 

Matthaeus reached the window he had aimed for, still distracted by the rousing townsfolk. He caught a glimpse of Arthur as he scanned the room, noting the old man's beaming, proud smile as he watched the other villagers rising, before turning around to look outside. 

The sun was nearly setting, although still a little ways above the treeline. He could hear the howls even through the thick glass pane, closer now than ever before, although he estimated that they still had some time before the beasts arrived. 

A dull ache resounded in his head, as the urge to run came over him. Strangely enough, though, it wasn't fear that was pushing the urge. If anything he felt almost... excited. He shook his head to clear it, only noticing then that his heart had started to beat faster and faster. 

Outside, every single one of the howls died down and went silent at once. 

The change was so sudden and unexpected, that Matthaeus actually paused for a second, not comprehending. When he noticed the silence outside, that heavy pit of unease began to grow in his stomach again. 

He was the only one who seemed to notice it, though. The townsfolk behind him were too busy working, boarding up the doors and windows to notice the total lack of sound from outside. Matthaeus looked around with wide, panicked eyes, as he realised that no one else was paying attention. 

Didn't they know? Didn't they understand the danger? Every part of Matthaeus' body had suddenly kicked itself into flight or fight, every nerve was on edge and every muscle twitching in preperation for... what, exactly?

He stopped a moment to think about it, and didn't have an answer. That realisation puzzled him more than anything else. Just why was he so panicked, again? 

Even still, the hyper awareness never settled down, his instincts demanding that he be ready. 

Outside, a sound finally pierced the air. It was barely recognizable as a wolf's howl. While the others had been louder, and deeper than a normal wolf's, this howl was... different. 

Bloodcurdling. 

Every person in the church heard it, and every person in the church froze the moment they did. There was a clattering sound as several boards were dropped to the ground, the hands that clenched them still locked in place around an imaginary board. 

The howl stretched on, deep and otherwordly, as the entire world seemed to cower down at the sound of it. That lone howl had been several times louder than the entire pack's howling had been earlier. 

The moment the howl stopped, the pack started up again. The excited yips, the vicious barking and the haunting howls rose into the air, more violent and excited than before. The townspeople kicked back into action all at once, their actions more hurried and desperate than before. There was no more talking inside, as everyone worked together singlemindedly, with one goal in mind. 

Keep whatever that was, out.