The Bear by Michael E. Shea (ink book reader TXT) 📕

preparing to mash Garity into a pile of broken bone and torn flesh but the monk sidestepped at the last second and the claw found only empty dirt. Before it could recover the priest attacked.

Garity slashed down with the sickle tearing a diagonal line from the beast’s shoulder down to its belly. The wound opened and blood poured out from the torn flesh and muscle.

But the beast was not finished. With its other claw it smashed forward and hit the monk solid. He shot through the air and smashed his back on a tree on the opposite side of his camp.

Longhorn saw what he needed to see. The beast was huge and deadly but it bled. It glared at Longhorn with its one blazing eye. It breathed in raspy and hollow breaths.

Longhorn raised his sword and gritted his teeth. Rain fell over his face and dripped from his hair. He felt the cold fury of Shadowhewer in his hand, the blade begging to bite again into the hideous beast. The massive creature roared one final time and the two rushed forward.

A mile away the people of the small town of Relis sat awake in their beds. Cries of pain and roars of fury broke through their dreams and left them shivering under their covers. A final cry shattered the night air and then all was quiet. Most found no sleep until the dawn. 14

Longhorn and Garity walked slowly to the waiting merchant cart that would take the priest back to the King’s city.

“Well, I’m glad you could come give our town a visit, my friend. I hope you enjoyed your stay.” Longhorn smiled a the priest. Garity laughed loud enough to turn the heads of nosy villagers.

“The food isn’t bad, but the hunting wasn’t quite what I expected. Still, this should raise a few eyebrows at the Order.” Garity held up the five inch claw he wore around his neck on a leather cord. Garity gave Longhorn a long look and the sheriff knew they both thought about Char dying in the rain. “Take care, my friend.”

“You too, Garity.” Longhorn embraced the priest and saw him to the merchant cart. He waited until the cart had turned down the path and began the long journey back to civilization.

Longhorn walked back to his office, Shadowhewer hanging comfortably on his side from his wide leather belt. The blade became a legend in the town, the slayer of the Werebeast of Holstock Wood. Two older farmers passed Longhorn as he walked down the town’s main road. They bowed.

“Good evening, Sheriff.”

Longhorn bowed back. When the two passed, a smile crept onto his face. After one year serving the small village Longhorn could finally begin to enjoy his retirement.