Chapter Nine: Armand the Small

His eyes watched the scene unfold.

His father stepped before his mother brandishing a copper blade, crude, yet deadly.

There was screaming, yelling. Armand felt hot tears well up, yet silent he remained.

his mother's blood was warm when it spalshed against his face. the sword had snapped in the struggle, and his father collapse,d exhausted.

His eyes bore into Armand.

"I'm going to kill you next, you little bastard. Don't you scream. Don't you dare scream."

Armand stood, motionless, gripped with fear.

The broken tip of the blade stuck into his mother's abdomen, as if half a key into a doorway.

He dropped to his knees, sobbing.

"I said be quiet you little runt."

His father was pushing himself up, grunting.

Armand dove for the blade. A hand hoisted him by his shirt up into the air.

"Think you're gonna be too fast for me? Did ya?!"

His father's eyes burned, the alcohol inside consuming him.

Armand felt a sharp tinge in his finger.

He was just fast enough.

The screaming. the beatings. The bruises. The pain. The trouble.

Armand felt the first snesation of joy, mixed with guilt, as the blade sank gently into the fleshy gizzard of his old man.

The blood was warm, nearly on fire.

Armand fell to the ground, next to his father and mother, both dead.

The eyes still seemed to be ablaze.

Armand rose, and wiped a tear from his eyes. He looked about.

Empty. gone.

He shook his head, clearing his mind of his past.

Smoke still billowed up form the chimney. he longed to finish his work, yet fear and guilt issued forth inside him and stayed his hand.

That man had put up a fight. He would hunt Armand nigh religously now. He was bitten though...

He would succumb, just like the farmer.

He looked to his right side. The farmer, still wolf like, grinned.

Armand for once, was on top. He was no longer that small weakling, groveling beneath people greather than he.

yet somewhere, he felt his former master was drawing near.

"Stay here. if he comes out, kill him."

The wolf man nodded.The grin seemed less enthusiastic. Perhaps it was merely the missing tooth.

Armand, dashed off into the woods, calling on his wolf form voluntarily.

Tonight, he would dine on fresh meat. His quota was nearly met.