Werewolf hunting rules

Although the woman is beautiful, she is wearing an old dress and has a sad face.

She was coming out of a clothing store when Cicero saw her.

The detective hesitated for a few seconds whether to step forward, but the other person walked directly towards him, even looking at him with eyes. He promised that this was no coincidence.

He put his hand on his waist, ready to draw his gun at any time, and at the same time opened his mouth to ask, and then

Then he was caught.

Before Cicero even reacted, the woman was already close to him, suppressing him with her two slender arms, squeezing his hands like she was shaking the armrests of a cart, preventing him from drawing his gun. Due to the excessive force, the woman's slender fingers even left traces of rope binding on his wrist.

He is an extraordinary person!

But the fighting posture is so amateurish!

"Help!" Cicero cried shamelessly.

Without being able to draw his gun, he has absolutely no chance of winning against a supernatural being or any other monster.

It is still unusual for a man to shout for help next to a beautiful girl. His actions attracted some passers-by to stop and watch and laugh, but the woman had no intention of letting go.

Because the clothing store was right next to it, it aroused a lot of imagination among the onlookers, who seemed to regard them as a couple fighting over disagreements over consumption, so no one was willing to step forward to stop their entanglement.

Fulentin trotted over at this time, separated the crowd with a quick breath, held up the Sheriff's badge to signal to others, and then said to the detective:

"You are suspected of illegally possessing a gun. Please come back with us for investigation."

After hearing his speech, the passers-by immediately dispersed in an uproar and no longer paid attention to this place.

Because St. Alvin Parish is close to the railroad, many gangs recruit here, and the guy arrested by the sheriff may be one of them.

Watching their excitement has consequences.

Seeing the crowd go away, Cicero opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Of course he can claim that he belongs to the Hook Detective Agency. Such a large agency will apply to the government for the right to carry guns for its employees, but in order to conceal his actions today, he did not wear the uniform and carry the relevant documents, so what? It can't be proven either.

At the same time, it was impossible for him to take these people back and accept their search.

That would be all over.

Cicero suddenly felt extremely sad.

He knew where his companions from the Bronze Horse Inn had gone.

When the firearm was taken away and his hands were tied behind his back, he looked back at Fulentin, who was tying the rope to himself, and issued a warning with the last hope.

"If you do this, I don't need to tell you. People from the Bureau of Land Management will also come to investigate."

"Oh." Volentin replied, he just wanted to sleep now.

If Julius hadn't refused to cut off his eye-catching long hair, which would raise questions about his identity, he wouldn't have rushed to deal with the matter.

Barbara originally looked worried, but after seeing Volentin's reaction, she immediately calmed down.

Since her companions don't care, she shouldn't have to worry.

"Let's continue the topic just now." Clayton said to the divine attendant. "When did you pick up William?"

"After the end of this summer. Its fur is like smooth satin, and its eyes are like burning flames. We thought it would be an excellent guardian."

In the legend of Dorne, the black dog with bright eyes has always been regarded as a patron saint. After a person dies, his soul will ride on a horse and move towards his destination accompanied by his patron saint, no matter what The result is heaven or hell.

This is the spirit dog mentioned in the "Pioneer Record".

There are many books that prove the ancient origins of this belief, and the "Heralds" is not even the earliest one among them.

The priest felt deeply that he had been deceived.

Clayton sat on a stone under the shade of a tree to rest. He really couldn't wait any longer.

It was not because of the progress of the work here, but because he was worried that Julius and Barbara would mess up the things he told them, and he was eager to test their actions and results.

"I can smell it with my nose. Something must have been wrong with it early on. I have never seen such a sad dog. Try calling its name. Maybe you can call it out."

The Divine Attendant shrugged: "We have already tried it, but it didn't work. Why don't you try your method?"

Clayton asked, "What can I do?"

"Your howling methods should be the same. Maybe, I mean maybe, it would be more effective for you to communicate in a common language than for me to shout its name." Worried that Clayton would be angered again, this time the godly servant restrained himself A lot, and tried hard to prove that there is no humiliating meaning in it.

"It's a pity that I don't know the communication method you mentioned at all." Clayton didn't want to make this matter too straightforward: "Besides, I was transformed from a normal person into a werewolf. So far, my The sounds haven't changed much from before. Maybe the dark moon has given me a little special influence that helps me communicate with these specific animals. But that has to do with smell."

"But you haven't tried howling to communicate with them. You have to try to know if you can."

At this time, the Divine Attendant showed extraordinary stubbornness, which was related to his ideas.

Clayton glanced at him and felt shaken.

This kind of pragmatic spirit is rare among the younger generation. The lieutenant feels that he should not fall behind, and if he can really explore his potential, that will be a good thing.

After struggling for a few seconds, he said seriously: "Cover your ears."

The divine attendant showed a look of relief and raised his hands to follow the instructions.

Clayton turned his back and recalled the wolf howl he heard near the ranch when he was a boy, trying his best to imitate the sound.

He raised his head unconsciously, feeling that all his energy was poured into his throat.

"Ouch————"

The sound spread, and a gust of wind blew up around him, weighing down the grass and shaking the leaves of the yew forest, but he could still confirm that his voice spread throughout the cemetery.

He prayed, hoping no one else would hear. But I vaguely felt that this was a majestic thing.

"Ok?"

The divine attendant covered his ears and walked around to ask Clayton.

But Clayton didn't respond to him, and looked at the bushes diagonally behind him, where there was a "living wind" (living wind is the wind brought by moving objects) moving.

And the smell of corruption has become stronger.

Seeing his expression, the Divine Attendant subconsciously put down his hand and looked in that direction.

With the sound of dead branches snapping, a black dog emerged from a group of green leaves. Just from the pumpkin-sized head, you can tell how powerful its body is.

"I knew it could happen!" The godly servant waved his fist excitedly, and then chased after him.

Clayton also jumped up from the stone and followed.

They stepped on dead branches and broken leaves, running crunchily through the yew forest.

The church cemetery on Wandering Street really likes to plant yews. These tall trees have not been repaired, and there are dead vines hanging between the trees. When you bump into them, you will be covered with sawdust.

They were joined by grotesque shrubs that formed almost a natural hedge against the road.

Creighton, however, was hardly affected.

After howling, he only felt that he was running faster and faster, and even if there were obstacles, he would jump over them. He and the dog quickly shortened the distance, and the young man, God Attendant, didn't seem to exercise much. He was lost by them after just a few steps. The specific time may be in the second or third minute of running. .

The huge black dog finally stopped.

It looked back at Clayton with a meaningful look, as if it was deliberately leading the way.

Clayton was struck by the intelligence in its eyes.

He looked closely at its tail, which was slightly drooping in its natural state. It seemed that this was not a dog, but a giant wolf.

None of the clergymen or worshipers at Wandering Street Church discovered anything unusual about it. This can only be attributed to the city's development causing a lack of biological knowledge among the citizens.

The black wolf sniffed the ground, dug up an area that had signs of turning, and took out a piece of dry bread that was probably leftover from the Holy Communion ceremony.

It took a few steps closer to Clayton and put the bread down.

The strong putrid smell approached, and the lieutenant backed away warily, not understanding its intentions.

Seeing his performance, the black wolf lowered his head and used a long kiss to nudge the rusk towards his position.

Clayton reacted. He pointed at the rusk and asked in surprise: "Are you going to give it to me?"

Seeing his reaction, the wolf was even more surprised than him, and even uttered human words:

"Weren't you the one who called me hungry just now?"