The village was called Miredale, though whether that was because it hugged the shores of the North Sea or because the people here looked particularly gloomy was beyond Albert Kneller. Either way, the monster hunter did not care overmuch, as he had come here in search of work and coin primarily, not to immerse himself in local culture. And indeed, his journey north towards the snowy Jarldoms of Fryga from the milder climates of the Europan mainland did not disappoint. The village elderman immediately called for him at first sight when he rode into the humble settlement, hollering about a job that needed to be performed.

"A werewolf," the aging man said, over two mugs of cheap ale at an equally cheap table. "'Tis a werewolf, that be terrorizin' our humble village. Most days it leaves us alone, but some nights one of our goats dies. Oh, you should have seen the corpses, sir hunter! They were rended top to bottom with wounds that might have been the work of a bear's, only that during the time of the attacks, we'd hear howlin'! So it be a werewolf, I tell ya!"

But in addition to goats, the presumed werewolf also slew villagers - two women, in fact, just the night before the monster hunter rode into the village. Albert asked for the location of the attack, but the elderman cautioned that they had already buried the bodies. Albert replied that he didn't need the bodies to begin tracking, and so he came upon the scene of the murder: in a field buffering the settlement from the woods, where berry bushes began to grow. The two victims' only mistake was doing some late afternoon foraging, collecting dinner for their children.

"Fresh tracks," Albert muttered under his breath, green eyes examining the clawed markings on the ground. His horse, Gallop was her name, grazed nonchalantly some distance behind him, sampling the new Nordic cuisine. "Good. Makes things easier."

The scent of blood still lingered heavily in the immediate area. One of the women, Gertha, he believed, had conveniently lost an arm, and whatever beast that took it left not only footprints but also a faint trail of scent because of it. Indeed, this would make tracking much easier. Intending to find the monster's lair, Albert absentmindedly tugged on his sheathed sword which hung from his shoulder upon a strap and entered the shadowy depths of the forest.

The far north was undoubtedly cold, the wind itself chilled her straight to the bone especially given how her clothing wasn't never meant for such conditions. Yukiko Fujimoto human to the naked eye, and Kitsune in reality, the distinctive features that would mark her as one were hidden by a shroud of magic. She was a traveler hailed from very distant lands, one that was probably unheard of to these Nordic people though despite her obvious, exotic appearance none have approached her, at least not yet. Yukiko couldn't say she was disappointed, still to see the world can be quite boring without companionship, perhaps in the near future that would change.

On that particular day she had a minor objective, a distraction really on her quest to experience what the mortal realm had to offer. Mutterings among common villagers all pointed to recent attacks committed by some beast, one that they called a "werewolf" which to her knowledge was a hybrid of a man and wolf, clearly a being like that had to be interesting to see first hand. Besides lending the humans a helping hand did well for her conscious, she rather liked this specific grouping as the stoic nature they carried was somewhat endearing.

Yukiko did not need to ask for the location of the targeted creature, all too clear were the signs of blood both splattered on the soil, and wafting in the air, obviously this werewolf held little care to concealing its presence, else it would've attempted to disrupt the trail left behind in any fashion. Her naginata secured tightly to her back, she began the pursuit to find and slay this feral creature it should prove to be entertaining in some way, she was convinced of this.

Albert tread lightly. Of the school of the cat, a substratum of the entire monster hunter caste, he was trained in the arts of stealth, and his repertoire of combat techniques emphasized dodges, swift strikes, and speed in general as opposed to taking blows like the school of the bear. As such, his bootfalls scarcely sounded upon the ground. He took care to avoid the underbrush, although he knew very well that if the beast he was hunting was indeed a werewolf, he would have been heard regardless.

"Fur," he muttered. "Left quite a bit when it brushed against this tree." Albert stood up from his crouched stance, looking towards the further depths of the woods. "Decided to eat the arm here instead of dragging it back to its lair. No matter. Tracks still visible."

He followed the footprints abreast of their trail, mildly annoyed by how they meandered about as the beast decided to kill two deer on its way home. Light clouds formed in front of his mouth with every respiration, so cold was the temperature. Pines composed much of the forest, and their crowns were white with mild dustings of snow. Albert was relieved when the tracks lead into the mouth of a cave at the foot of a rocky hill. The search was over - now all he had to do was wait till midnight.

But then his ears twitched, and his eyes widened slightly in reflex. He looked over his shoulder, past the blue handkerchief tied around his neck, and with supernatural senses that came from his pedigree, tried to find the source of the strange footfalls: not those of deer or playful hares, but a being that walked on two feet and upright. A villager, come to follow him? Foolish. So he began to make way towards the sound, to dissuade the stranger from staying.

Yukiko's surroundings were eerily still, it seemed as if all living creatures suddenly disappeared, though it made sense as animals tend to have keen senses, and with a werewolf staying within this stretch of wilderness it was obvious the normal inhabitants would flee. The trail of blood ended, not even the smallest micro droplet, yet the stench was still there, hovering like a stiff cloud although not only blood per say, other scents such as putrid, decayed flesh of what else the beast has hunted. Physical tracks were present as well, while she couldn't be called a tracker herself, she was still able to follow them well enough.

There were other markers, the remains of deer, the leftover intestines and bone looked to be remarkably fresh. If Yukiko were to guess the werewolf she was seeking had to be nearby, as such she redoubled her efforts, to pick up the pace for the prospect of meeting this savage monster was drawing near.

She found herself just outside of the treeline, before her was a hill, and with that hill she spotted what appeared to be a cave, a presumably perfect lair. Before marching ever so forward, after all there was no time to waste, she felt eyes watching her, so considering the fact that average animals were for the most part missing, she must've encountered something much greater. Fortunately her questions were answered before long, because the source of that gaze revealed itself, or rather himself. Her initial reaction was one of curiosity, from what she heard of werewolves; for any human to be hunting one was interesting, a man like that had to have some courage. This man certainly looked prepared for a hunt, as he was clad in a gleaming chainmail hauberk, and armed to the teeth, plus he looked rather well built for this sort of activity. Yukiko didn't run or hide, nothing of the sort, instead she wanted to talk with the hunter, in actuality she was somewhat eager to do so.

"Hold," Albert said, raising a cautionary hand. Meanwhile, he examined the approaching stranger with scrutinizing eyes. "By the looks of your garb, it doesn't seem like you're one of the villagers over there, but whatever your business here, stranger, you best not linger. There's a beast here that means to kill, and I'd rather not have it catch your scent."

Her scent. Monster hunters, being a unique caste and culture on their own, had developed magical and alchemical methods to alter the human body that it could function beyond the limits of the norm. The cat school may have placed emphasis on eyesight and hearing, but by no means were the other senses ignored. His nose was keen indeed, and sharp enough to differentiate the myriad smells that wafted in the air with varying vividness. The stranger's scent, it picked out shortly, and Albert found that she smelled distantly of autumn trees and the watery blooms alongside a lake. The flavor was mysterious and cryptic to his olfactory receptors, but then again, everything else about her screamed 'foreign,' from her loose-fitting garments to the polearm strapped across her back. Could it be that the girl came from Fuso?