Torm had hunted before. In fact, it was a pasttime for any knight or lord, along with hawking and tournaments. But he had never been the best one. The andredian cavalier knew he was far better fighting men than monsters, due to experience. Though it was a part of his curriculum and he did have some formal training. He just wished he knew what this thing was supposed to be. Juliette's suggestion had merit, though it begged the question why a foreign beast was so far north. He shook his head as he readied his saddle, more to himself than his companion.  

"Could be a Varghulf," he responded with more than a bit of trepidation. They weren't the worst thing to face, but the large wolf-like beasts were cruel, and if the stories were true, smart. It was said some had mastered speech, but his teacher hadn't believed the tales, so he supposed he didn't. Either way, they would find out eventually. Torm lifted his flask up to his lips and downed some water, before mounting Lycurgus with the skill borne into a knight.  

Their two mounts cantered out of the stables, Torm on Lycurgus and Juliette on a dappled mare named Swifttrot. Her tune followed them, and despite his anxieties, they dissipated when the epic melody began to play. Juliette was good, and Torm had simple tastes. He gave her a brilliant smile, unused to having a minstrel, bard, or even a retainer around him. It boosted his morale for the moment at least, and the two headed northwest into the treeline, passing up the old ox-path the villagers had used up until the last month. The forest wasn't nearly as foreboding as others Torm had experienced, but he immediately knew it would be easy for a predator or brigand to hide just off the road. 

They reached the nook in the path soon enough, the body of the lass and even most of the blood already gone. Torm dismounted Lycurgus, whose ears were up and alert, though the beast showed no signs of distress at the moment. Small indentions in the earth and large impressions of what might be paws were visible beside a large birch. The Knight stood up, looking around the small clearing to see if the tracks led anywhere, but it looked like whatever had been here had just paced the road for a bit, as if it had toyed with its food. The thought disgusted him, wondering just what this creature was. It was at that moment something in the bush moved. Torm was no fey elf, but he still had a keen reaction and leaped back, halfway through unsheathing his sword before he noticed what came out of the thistle wasn't an animal or monster at all, but a small boy! 

He had an unfortunate face. Fat cheeked and frowning, wearing a coif hat and holding a sack of cloth like it was a toy. Torm blinked, sighing with a groan and lowering his two-hander. The boy didn't seem scared, merely distraught. He swallowed and coughed. "Are you here to find out what happened to my friend, Gwyn?" He asked, shifting his little booted feet and looking down. Torm glanced at Juliette. 

"Is Gwyn one of the Moldie girls?" The knight asked, softer now. He didn't expect to see a child out here, even so close to the village. Torm noticed just how big the child's head was, at least compared to his diminutive, half starved body. A roach scuttled across the kid's shoes, and whether it went up his pants leg or crawled away he couldn't tell.

"Yes, sir. She was here when it happened. I was here too, when the thing showed up." 

Torm lifted his head, staring at the boy with eyes wrought of iron. "You were here?" He asked. "What was it?" 

"I-..." He started, about to cry. Torm noticed something that he would not forget. The child was struggling with something, true fear in his eyes before it was replaced with rage. Mouth opening impossibly wide, wolfen teeth glinting in the sunlight. The knight knew it was, had been a real child until something took over. The scared boy in front of him had been devoured before his eyes, and what was left was a monster. Torm felt his heart seize, but his instinct kicked in, and as it leaped at him, he cut the thing in half with one stroke of his sword. The boy had leaped in one piece, and fell in two.