Date: Jan. 1, 20XX

Location: Il’amore, New World

Time: 0540 hours

Casualties: 13

Actual Deaths: 6

*****

The Red Fever arrived the day the wolves attacked.

It started off with The Baker going about his day when he felt a cough tickling his throat. Must be the cold, he told himself as he continued his merry way. It was cold in Il’amore—probably just under 20 degrees. But his sheepskin jacket and leather gloves were keeping him warm. However, as he headed to open his shop, a cough ripped itself out of his throat and he hacked hard into his leather gloves, body shaking hard. After he gathered his breath, he stared at his gloves and realized there were blood spatters over it. A low panic built inside of The Baker. This couldn’t be…he was healthy; he was sure. He went to The Doctor last weekend because his head hurt. But perhaps that was the telltale sign of the Red Fever.

Red Fever (n.): an infectious disease that causes symptoms of nausea, headaches, (bloody) coughs, fever, and fatigue. Usually there are red rings that form after death settles, though there are rare occasions where the rings form while someone is dying. Occurs frequently during winter time when immune systems are low. Reasons for it, unknown; leads to inevitable death.

This was bad. Very bad. The Baker couldn’t believe it. He was sure that he was in no contact with anyone sick. The Doctor even said that he was clear from getting it so how did this happen? He didn’t want to accept this; no, maybe it was something else. It couldn’t be the Red Fever—no, not like this. He was going to go to his girlfriend tonight and celebrate her win in archery. This was bad—no, not just bad, but unfair. Why did the universe target him? What wrong did he do?

He decided to ignore it—maybe it was nothing. But as he kept walking, he felt his legs turn to lead. He felt his head swim and nausea rose in his throat. Right…Red Fever deaths were always painful. He tried telling himself that it wasn’t but as he kept hacking and stumbling, his knees buckled under him and he collapsed to the icy ground.

He died in front of his bakery.

*****

The Baker’s girlfriend woke up early. She felt uneasy for some reason. Something wasn’t settling right in her stomach. She didn’t know what it was but she felt the need to get out of bed. She went to her window and pushed away the curtains. It was still pitch dark. She grabbed her robe and slipped it on, shivering. The house was freezing; the heater broke down again. She grabbed her slippers and wore them as she shuffled downstairs, tugging the robe tighter around her shivering body. Outside, she could hear the wind whistling, tree branches colliding into one another from the wind’s strength. Normally she wouldn’t leave in such weather—it was atrocious—but she felt the need to go see The Baker. It was like a gut instinct.

She left the house, wincing as the icy wind pierced at her face. Her black hair was being whipped around from the wind and let out an annoyed huff as she tucked her hair into her robe. She continued walking, heading towards The Baker’s bakery.

The ground was incredibly slippery; her slippers kept on sliding over the icy ground and she stumbled to find her footing. She walked more slowly and found herself being able to walk more easily.

That was when she found The Baker on the ground, dead. The Baker’s girlfriend’s mind stopped—she couldn’t process what was going on and when it hit her, she screamed. Clearly the Red Fever got to him; the red rings peppering his skin was evident enough. Plus, the snowy ground under him was stained with droplets of blood.

She didn’t think about the consequences of approaching him. It was inevitable, death, that was, if someone came into direct contact with someone who had the Red Fever. But mind ridden with devastation and anguish, she touched The Baker’s cheek, sobbing.

She, too, died in front of the bakery.

*****

Numa Ros’in woke up due to the sound of his daughter crying. The moment he was about to drift off into sleep, he heard Kat sobbing and he sat up, sighing heavily. Ever since Noya, his former fiancée, abandoned Kat on the doorstep of his house about five months ago, he was stuck with an infant he didn’t know how to take care of. One, he couldn’t breastfeed her so he bought some formulas (though they were costly), and secondly, it seemed like Kat had separation anxiety because every time he left her alone, she’d burst into tears. But rather than being annoyed or angry at his daughter, he felt his heart break. He wanted to comfort her but he didn’t know how. It wasn’t like his parents could help. They were dead. And Noya’s parents lived in a different village that was eight day’s worth of travel on foot.

He went to Kat who was sobbing softly in her cradle. He sighed softly and picked her up carefully, minding her head and neck so it wouldn’t snap back on him. He held her close to his chest and murmured soft words to her. He didn’t know what he was saying, but he was saying something to get her to calm down.

Her sobs died to tiny hiccups and he nuzzled her cheek, kissing her head, inhaling her sweet scent. He continued rocking her in his arms, murmuring in her ear until she fell quiet, fast asleep. He rubbed her back and set her back down in her cradle, slowly walking away.

That was when he heard a low, mournful howl and he broke out into cold sweat. The wolves. But it wasn’t this time of year they’d come out…unless…

The Red Fever. It had to be. These mutated wolves could smell the Red Fever. They grew to love it. Why? Because they’d feast on the dead. Numa witnessed it one time, many years ago. He probably was only six or seven when he first saw it. He was told not to go to the forest but he did anyway because he saw one of the wolves—a big, black one with red eyes—drag a villager into the forest. He hid from the wolves’ gazes and peered from behind a tree. There, he saw the wolf transform into a man with elongated claws and massive fangs. The man-wolf then hunched over the dead villager and sank his claws into the villager’s chest and ripped it open, blood spilling everywhere. The man-wolf then lowered his face into the chest and snagged the heart, ripping it in half with his sharp fangs, chewing it slowly, blood dribbling down his chin and onto his bare chest.

The wolf continued feasting on the villager, fangs tearing apart the flesh, crunching down on the bones with a sickening popping noise. He kept eating and eating until the villager was reduced to clothes and a head. The wolf grabbed the villager’s mouth and forced it open, causing the lower jaw to snap off. Numa fainted and when he woke up, he found himself nose-to-nose in front of a wolf.

If it weren’t for the wolf hunter to come by, Numa would’ve been dead. Most certainly. There was no way he’d escape.

The wolves’ howls kept going in broken intervals. Numa went back to his daughter and took her out of her cradle, holding her close to her chest. Kat stirred, a tiny mewl escaping her throat as her tiny hands grabbed onto Numa’s shirt and Numa’s heart practically stopped. His daughter was in danger. He had to save her. He rushed back to his room with his daughter and locked the bedroom door, closing all the curtains in his room. He sat at the corner of his room, trembling as he held Kat close to his chest. His house was unfortunately close to the forest, meaning he was easy prey. He just hoped that if anything were to happen, Kat would be okay. She had to be okay—needed to be okay.

Then he heard it, the sound of the front door unlocking. His breathing halted and he clutched onto Kat tight, muffling her tiny whimpers. He didn’t dare open his eyes as he buried his face into his daughter’s hair, feeling a sob building in his throat.

There was the sound of heavy paws and the clicking of claws on the ground just outside the bedroom door. The wolf was pacing. Thinking. Teasing. Numa swallowed back his sobs as he ran his hand soothingly over Kat’s back, calming her down. He must be strong for her. He must.

The door clicked open and Numa felt like he was going to faint. This was it. This was how he was going to die. With Kat in his arms. With no witnesses but the wolf, the moon, the stars, and the heavens.

He could smell the wolf, that rank, heavy, earthy, bloody smell. It was horrible. He felt nauseous. He kept his eyes shut. He didn’t dare open them. He could hear the wolf’s pants as it neared him. He could feel its hot breath against the back of his neck. He wanted to move but he was rooted to the spot. All he could think was, Please save Kat, and he felt something shoved into the back of his head and came out to his forehead.

Numa died with Kat in his arms.