As the increasingly weary band drew closer and closer to the capital, isolated farmsteads and cabins grew sparser, replaced instead by little hamlets and villages and even the occasional small town. There were still no people to be found, however, each new place they found playing host to nothing but a few messily dismembered corpses and a lot of hastily abandoned homes. In the towns they sometimes found battle sites where the town guard had made a stand against the wolves, but with five or six dead guards to every slain demon it was clear that the meagre defences had been completely overwhelmed. The desolate towns and villages certainly didn’t improve Ulrik’s mood any, but compared to Hood he was as calm as anything. She seemed to get more agitated and snappish with every passing day, and had started twitching and jumping at the slightest sounds. Ulrik had finally decided to ask her about it one evening as they were making camp, but Hood spoke up before he had a chance. “A Blood Moon is rising.” “A what?” Ulrik asked worriedly, suddenly noticing that Hood’s teeth seemed a fair bit longer and sharper than usual. “A Blood Moon. We get them sometimes up north, but only when there’s a lot of demon magic in the air.” “I thought the blood moon was that spell you use to heal yourself?” “That’s me invoking its true name. The light of the Blood Moon itself isn’t as strong, but it reaches much further.” “And does what?” “Steals tiny slivers of life from everything it touches and pours them into any demon touched by its light. It makes them stronger, bolder, harder to hurt.” “That sounds horrible.” “For those who aren’t prepared, yes. But wolves are always much more reckless in the light of the Blood Moon. Up north they call it the hunter’s moon, because it lures out all the demons so they can hunt them down and trap them.” “Is that what you’re planning to do tonight? Trap wolves?” “Not this time. Look…” Hood held out her left hand, and Ulrik noticed it had started to curl into something more like a wolf’s paw, the nails lengthening and sharpening into claws. “There’s too much demon in me now. The moon madness will probably hit me as hard as it hits the wolves.” “Then what do we do?” Ulrik asked, worry clear in his tone. “The only thing we can.” Hood replied with a shrug. “You hide behind a ward with Lumpy, and I let the moon take me where it will. With any luck I’ll keep my senses enough to hunt wolves and nothing else. And if not, at least there doesn’t seem to be any people around here anymore.” “That’s ridiculous! Who knows how many wolves might be running through these woods? You’ll get yourself killed!” “And what would you have me do instead? Spend the night tied to a tree? Do you trust your knots enough to hold me when the Blood Moon shines?” “Perhaps not, but I can’t risk you running off alone and getting hurt.” “You can and you will. I don’t trust myself around you, not during the Blood Moon.” “But…” “This is not up for debate, Ulrik. I’m keeping you safe tonight, and that’s that.” Ulrik wanted to argue the matter further, but realized it would do him no good whatsoever. So instead he finished setting up camp and cooked a light meal, which he shared with Hood in tense silence. After the meal Hood took off her boots, cloak and leathers, complaining that they felt stifling, and Ulrik noted with a hint of worry that she had started moving around the camp on all fours rather than walking, seemingly without realizing it. As the sun started to set, Hood drew a circle of blood around the campsite and warded it from demons. Ulrik watched in equal parts concern and bemusement as she padded around the warded campsite, casting her head about in a sort of satisfied confusion, clearly unable to detect the warded camp at all. She didn’t stay long, though. As a blood-red moon started rising above the horizon, Hood threw her head up to the skies and howled, the eerie, animalistic sound seeming to echo among the trees. It took Ulrik a moment to figure out that the returning cries weren’t echoes at all, but different howls rising in the distance. With a sharp grin that lacked even the barest sliver of humanity, Hood loped off into the trees to seek out the howling demons. As the sky grew darker and the ghastly, bloated red moon continued its rise, the forest was bathed in a dim red light, painting the ground the colour of old blood and sending strange shivers down Ulrik’s spine. Lumpy whinnied nervously and pawed at the ground, and Ulrik got up and put a calming hand against the frantic horse’s neck. “Easy, boy. Easy. It’s going to be fine.” Lumpy calmed a little, but he still cast his head about whenever a howl or growl sounded from the forest around them. Ulrik sighed, trying to contain his own worry as he kept watch through the night. As morning dawned, chasing away the last shreds of the Blood Moon’s baleful light, Ulrik set off into the forest. Hood’s trail was surprisingly easy to follow, strewn as it was with broken branches, torn off bits of cloth or patches of fur and no small amount of blood. Ulrik found three dead demons along the trail of destruction, none of them larger than a boarhound. They all had their throats messily torn out and seemed to be partially eaten, which was almost enough on its own to turn Ulrik’s stomach. Combined with the heavy stink of wolf and blood, it made him grateful he hadn’t eaten breakfast before setting out. He finally found Hood asleep on the mangled corpse of a demon the size of a small bear. She was covered head to toe in blood, and her features retained some of the bestial cast they’d taken last night. Her clothes were torn to ragged shreds, and her skin held a number of large scars he was certain hadn’t been there the day before, but the thing that disturbed him the most was the way her belly bulged, no doubt full half to bursting with demon flesh. Ulrik took a few minutes to fight the bile rising in his throat, which was in no way helped by the stink of the large demon’s shredded intestines. Once he felt confident he wasn’t about to throw up, he carefully made his way over to Hood and took her in his arms. She wasn’t exactly light, with her metal arm and her overfull belly, but Ulrik carried her down to the nearest river without breaking his stride. She made a noise of complaint halfway between a mumble and a growl as he started cleaning the drying blood from her body, but didn’t wake up. Once he felt she was as clean as he was likely to get her, he hoisted her up once again and carried her back to the camp, breaking the ward around it and depositing Hood on a blanket. Lumpy made a disapproving noise when he smelled the wolf stink that still clung to her despite Ulrik’s efforts, but nevertheless went up to nuzzle her gently. Ulrik smiled tiredly. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Hood.” Hood muttered something in her sleep, followed by a soft sigh that unfortunately unleashed the smell of her breath in full force. Lumpy reared back unhappily, snorting and huffing with displeasure at the stink of half-digested demon. Ulrik carefully got up and walked away, managing to get almost twenty feet from the campsite before his control failed him and he noisily threw up on the ground.