Chapter Text
The stench of rot and worse things stung her nose, even with her dulled human senses.
It was a mausoleum, a place for the dead to rest free of molestation.
A great stone edifice built specifically to ward away anyone who would desecrate the graves within.
And yet, if the warden of this gravesite was to be believed, things were moving within.
There had been sounds of feet, stone grinding on stone, and horrid, inhuman noises.
The men they'd sent had not returned.
So now they turned to her.
She would take the bounty they offered, though she would have done the job for free.
The stone entryway, unsealed for her by the grave keeper, stood before her.
The stairs leading down were choked with blinding darkness.
A barrier to some, but not her.
She called on the beast, and its senses were hers.
Her eyes, ears, and nose - the flesh of her face reshaping.
The darkness gave way to her, and she took the first step.
The cold of the stone sapped heat from her bare feet.
Cobwebs hung from the carved ceiling, blowing in a faint breeze.
The warmth of the sun slid from her back as she descended.
Soon, the darkness swallowed her completely.
In short order, the stairs gave way to the mausoleum floor.
A long, wide hall with a tall ceiling and walls lined with sarcophaguses.
The stench permeated the room, her sharpened nose wrinkling at the sweet-sour smell.
There was something unnatural in the stagnant air, something that made her teeth grind and sharpen.
At the far end of the hall, something moved.
The gloom made even her enhanced eyesight struggle, but her ears were flawless.
She heard ragged feet flapping on stone, nails scratching against the floor.
Something was inside, with her.
Someone or something had raided a burial site, then had hidden her.
She needed no further prompting.
She had lived too long - fought enough, killed enough, nearly died enough - to know that hesitation was deadly.
There were things in the world that were dangerous even to her kind and fates worse than death.
Within herself, she called out to the beast, and with a snarl, the change exploded out of her.
Her little clothing, worn for decency's sake alone, was shorn to pieces as her height doubled, and her body swelled with dense, rippling muscle.
Fur sprouted from her in a thick coat, her face stretching into a muzzle lined with long, pointed teeth.
Her ears shot up to furred points, and her nails grew and thickened into dark, sharp claws.
A shudder went down her spine as it lengthened, her tail whipping behind her in a blur.
She snarled and growled; her teeth bared in challenge to whatever lurked in the darkness.
Her bulk seemed to fill the hall, the claws of her toes scoring the stone floor.
Her ears brushed the ceiling, and through them, she heard everything.
Or she would have had not all sound save her heavy breathing gone silent.
The mausoleum had gone still and quiet, her heart pounding deafeningly loud in her ears.
Rage nipped at her, and she barked her challenge again - a dark, feral sound deep within her.
This time, something answered.
A low, wet, sick groan that laid heavily upon her mind.
Her fur stood on end.
This was no mere graverobber.
The thing hauled itself from the darkness from behind the endmost crypt.
It may have been among the living once or been born from some evil force.
Whatever its origin, what it was now was unspeakable.
A hideous, bloated mass, squirming with malevolent hunger.
Raw and ragged strips of muscle dragged its bulk like the arms of a horrid sea monster.
Its maw - no head and barely a mouth, but a gash lined with jagged bone - yawned open.
For an instant, she feared.
To her kind, physical wounds were fleeting - her moon-blessed flesh closed as soon as it was cleaved.
Though their reputation would lead others to believe they were beyond death, they were not immortal.
They feared the touch of silver, for it burned and weakened them and was their greatest weakness.
Magic was a concern, for it could do that which mundane arms could not.
A curse could debilitate and destroy more thoroughly than any injury, and enchantments could beguile even their proud and savage hearts.
As the heaving abomination lurched toward her, hissing and gurgling wetly, she feared it.
But it was only for an instant, rage swallowing fear, fueling her fiery spirit.
She had chosen this path, and if death awaited her at the end of it, then so be it.
She would drag this filth into death's waiting jaws if it was the last thing she did.
Her final gift to all life and decency.
With a sound of fury, she dove at her enemy, feeling oily, fetid meat part in her hands.
It bellowed in agony as her claws tore into it, its appendages coiling about her, crushingly strong.
She felt her bones creak in its grip, biting back a howl of pain.
Savagery overtook her, and she set upon the monster with wild abandon, swiping and pounding.
The walls echoed with the din of combat, soon coated with the beast's stinking gore.
As they struggled, she could see why common folk would not have bested this monster.
Even with her great strength, she could feel the beast resisting.
More worrisome, it seemed tireless, and it possessed nothing vital to strike at - it was not but stinking, writhing meat.
She brought her fists down upon it in a hammer strike and it flattened gelatinously.
A festering cist boiled over and burst, spraying her with something that stuck and burned.
She leaped away, retreating back to the stairway door, raking at the wounded flesh.
It reared its full height, from floor to ceiling, bellowing unholy fury.
The burning ichor that seeped through her fur scalded and seared her.
She was no stranger to pain; this was nothing compared to some wounds she'd suffered.
Still, the beast was proving to be troublesome.
Most foes would have crumpled beneath her assault, unable to bear her wrath.
Yet this thing remained unshaken, more angered than injured.
She could not allow it to escape.
The damage it could cause would be unthinkable.
It either died at her hands, or she would bury it in this tomb.
There was no other acceptable outcome.
It lunged for her with shocking speed, but she was ready.
She met its charge head-on, the force of their clash rattling the chamber.
It gnashed its broken, uneven teeth at her, grimy phlegm dirtying her coat further.
She caught the creature fast with one hand, digging her claws in deep, and pulled back a clenched fist.
Her muscles swelled and bulged as she demanded more of the wolf.
She struck lightning fast, and the creature sailed backward, cratering the back wall with the force of its impact.
The wet sound of its body against the stone was satisfyingly visceral.
She whined as her swollen limb receded to merely hulking, the wolf withdrawing the added strength.
She was going to pay for that later.
She was greatly taxing herself and the wolf to keep the monster in check.
And if her senses did not deceive her, even a blow such as that did not manage to kill it.
She would have to entertain the possibility that it was beyond death.
Inconvenient, but not an unfamiliar complication.
She'd fought and bested allegedly "unkillable" foes before.
A few of which she'd left begging for death.
This time would be no different.
Before the monster could rise again, she made for one of the sarcophaguses.
Wrenching its top away, revealing a distressingly empty recess where a body should lie, she hefted the lid.
With a raging snarl, she hurled the heavy stone lid at her enemy.
It lands with a clamor of putrid flesh being pulped between stone meeting stone.
There is silence for a moment before she hears it - the writhing and groaning of evil yet living.
Another slab of rock is lifted - another missing body - and slung at the stubborn fiend.
The silence hangs longer this time, and she is tempted to claim victory.
But she cannot be certain.
The thing seems mindless, but she had met "mindless" things before that possessed cunning.
Cunning enough to feign defeat only to strike when her back was turned.
This presented her with a dilemma.
Either her foe was well and truly bested, and she could walk away without concern.
Or it was lying in wait for her guard to fall.
Further complicating matters was her transformation.
She was too big to fit the stairs.
To leave the tomb would require relinquishing the wolf's strength.
Leaving her disadvantaged should the monster strike unexpectedly.
Worse, it may rush over her, escaping up the stairs and onto the surface.
Even with her in pursuit, the risk of it escaping and harming others was too great.
This left her with little option.
She could not remain in the place, forever pushing back the creature.
She would need to assume her human shape to climb the stairs.
Leaving her unable to change shape and with her back to her enemy.
When she was younger and had first received the moon's blessing, she could not have imagined how often spacing and timing would be an issue.
Resigned, and with no choice, she allowed the wolf to wander and felt its strength fade.
The change from beast to man was never entirely pleasant but worsened with exhaustion.
She shrank rapidly, her gore-fouled coat falling to the floor in a ring of dark hair.
In a moment, she was a human woman again.
At that moment, she felt totally exposed, and not from her lack of dress.
And now for the hard part.
She was hesitant to turn her back on an enemy.
But still, she had to move.
The instant her foot touched the bottommost step, she ran.
Up, up she ran, hoping to make for the surface before her foe could recover.
To her dismay, she heard the sound of movement behind her in the chamber.
The sound of heavy stones being thrown aside.
Her heart hammered in her chest, pounding against her ribs.
The stench seemed to be attacking her, fouling every breath she took.
She feared slipping, falling back into a waiting monster's maw, or becoming trapped beneath the earth.
She could see the light up above growing brighter, closer.
The thing behind her was enraged, groaning and gurgling.
She could hear it growing closer, heaving its grotesque mass up the stairs behind her.
She thought of home and family.
Of friends and familiar faces.
Hot food and cold drinks.
Anything to keep her legs moving and herself ahead of the nightmare behind.
The instant she felt the sun on her sweat-slicked skin, she called desperately for the wolf.
She was changing before she reached the last step, her furred bulk bursting from the mausoleum door.
She whirled, churning grass and soil beneath her heel, and without glancing down into that horrible murk...
Brought both of her great fists down on the entryway.
It rumbled, quaked, and with an outpouring of dust and pulverized stone, collapsed.
The last she ever heard of that wretched thing was a dream-haunting groan.
Exhausted - thoroughly spent - she retreated a good twenty paces from the collapsed edifice before allowing herself to collapse.
She had won.