Chapter Text
A bright Autumn moon hung overhead casting a menacing shadow upon the village of Llanwelly, where a recent series of mysterious deaths had taken place. Some blamed a man by the name of Larry Talbot, who came back to the village to help his father on the estate after his brother passed away. Some blamed a wolf. Little did they know that they were one and the same. But that was all over with now. The werewolf was dead.
Sir John stared down at his son’s corpse in horror at what he had just done. He played the night’s events over in his head. He remembered how the wolf snarled and clawed at him, pulling him down the ground and baring his teeth in his face. He remembered striking it with the cane, hitting it over and over again, till it fell lifeless on the ground. Even then he didn’t stop. He hit it a couple more times just to be sure. He looked down at the figure at his feet. It was dressed in men’s clothes but had the face and paws of a wolf. Then to his horror, he watched as the wolf slowly faded away and turned back into his son. He couldn’t believe his eyes…Larry, his son, was a werewolf. But how? Werewolves weren’t supposed to be real. It was just a silly legend. If only he had just listened…
“Sir John?” A voice said, pulling him back to reality. He looked up and saw a sea of concerned faces staring at him.
“Go back to the house…we’ll take it from here.” Montford said in a somber voice. Reluctantly, John agreed, knowing there was nothing else that could be done. He couldn’t bare to look into Larry’s lifeless face any longer.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Dr. Lloyd asked. John shook his head no, not wanting to be bothered. He mumbled something, he wasn’t sure what. His head felt like the fog surrounding them had somehow seeped into his brain, making it difficult to think. He went to get up but stumbled over, he felt a sharp pain radiate through his arm and shoulder.
“Sir John, are you alright?” Frank asked, as he and Gwen walked over.
He gripped his shoulder and felt warm blood oozing between his fingers as he clasped his torn flesh. Dr. Lloyd rushed to his side and helped him to his feet. “You’re hurt!” He exclaimed.
“I’m fine...”
“No, you’re not. Let me help you.” He insisted.
“Just leave me alone!” John shouted pushing the doctor away and staggering off into the dark woods. He could hear footsteps running after him.
“John!” He heard the Lloyd’s voice call out, but it only made him run faster. At least as fast as his legs could carry him, which wasn’t very fast considering how late it was and everything he had been through. He was tired and just wanted some time alone to process everything. He didn’t want to deal with doctors poking and prodding him, and people pitying him.
Finally, he reached a clearing with a river running through it at the end of the property line. Too weak to go any further, he knelt down and looked into the river. He could see his reflection illuminated in the water. His hair was all disheveled and his face had a couple scratches on it from stray branches he had collided with on the way. What a pathetic sight…he thought to himself. His eyes then fell on the moon behind him. It hung over him like a ghost, haunting him. Reminding him that his son was dead, and it was all his fault. Suddenly, his shoulder sent out a searing pain again, making him wince. A sudden realization came over him as he clutched his wounded shoulder. He had been bitten. He was now the werewolf.
John looked up at the moon above, wishing it would go away. Unable to keep his eyes open a second longer, he collapsed. Everything was slowly becoming black, it was like the night sky was turning into a blanket engulfing him in darkness. As he slowly slipped into unconsciousness, he could hear footsteps in the distance getting closer to him. “Sir John?” He heard a voice call out, but it wasn’t the voice he was expecting to hear. He looked over and saw a small figure coming towards him. All he could make out was a silhouette, but the accent was distinct as she bent over him and whispered something he couldn’t make out. It was the gypsy woman. This was all her fault! If she had never come to town, Larry would never have become a werewolf. He went to sit up, but his head suddenly started to throb, and he fell back down. “Rest, Sir John. Rest.” She whispered. Powerless to stop it, his eyes slowly closed, and he blacked out, letting the darkness take over.