I stared at the
claw marks
in the wooden table for another long moment before shaking my head and focusing on why I came here. Standing naked in a dead hunter’s cabin while analyzing motivations of that woman was
not exactly productive use of time
.
"Whatever her goal was, I have my own still to finish."
I walked outside and found a spot between
two large trees
where I could summon the shipping container inside the | Single Parent Stash |. The container materialized with that same
unsettling lack of sensation
, looking absurdly out of place with no moisture on it among the very wet ferns and moss.
Opening the door, I moved the tools I might need and arranged them on one side without
cluttering
the entrance - leaving enough room to slip by with anything large. I did have something like that in mind.
"I should probably steal- reappropriate his shelves too, if they’ll fit. Will make storing things inside here more efficient."
Back inside the cabin, I methodically began selecting items that would serve my purposes most. The
silver-tipped arrows
went into a large canvas bag he had first - not because I really
planned to hunt werewolves
, but because silver was valuable.
The
wolfsbane vials
in that bandolier were more problematic. Potentially useful for
self-defense
, but also dangerous to handle being a werewolf myself. Still, I wrapped them carefully in spare cloth before adding them to a crate I found.
Several of the
smaller pelts
caught my attention - not for any sentimental value, but because the quality of preservation suggested they might fetch decent money from
the right buyer
. As far as I could tell they were also just ’regular’ wolves.
As I sat them in the crate, I tried not to think too hard about my own distaste for the very idea of humans making things from parts of beasts
that they only hunt for that purpose
. The ones in mine did of course make use of furs, bones, and all they could from
creatures that died
.
That part only made sense - and was a big reason for the Boneyards. When it comes to ’survival of the fittest’, I wouldn’t even feel much complaint if they wore spoils of a creature that attacked them for almost any reason other than because it was goaded into it.
> But it’s different when you create an industry out of it. When it becomes a commodity instead of natural necessity with a natural story. I’m not sure what I’d ever need some of these for, but that pawn shop - or another one without those memories - would take them. I saw some of the same sorts of things for sale there. By the smell of it, before going on hunts they probably paint it with the wolfsbane extract. So that arrows pulled out get some of just such a coating on it. That’s pretty... extra torturous. <
I guess when you are given the green light to take something down that
could kill you easily
... the amount of pain it feels before you finish it off isn’t your concern. If anything,
debilitating
them in case you miss a vital point would be preferred.
"Oh, calm down. I’m really not going to go hunt any werewolves down..."
Vrika has so little faith in me. Just because I thought about
what it might be like
to shoot Jace and Chad in...
interesting places
.