the smuggler’s bible

The Wolf-Man

The Wolf-Man ducks down an alley and immediately he can smell them lying in wait. He turns, but already the entrance is blocked by shadowy forms.

“Bad luck,” he says.

One of the figures steps forward and draws back its cowl to reveal a pointed hat. The bells on the curled toes of its shoes jingle softly.

“Hardly. Your habits are known to us. Come quietly and things may go easier for you. He is fond of creatures.”

“Don’t patronize me,” the Wolf-Man says, watching the clouds break to reveal the first pale sliver of moon. “I meant for you.”