Chapter 4: Liam
Chapter 4: Liam
The hours after the attack were a blur of adrenaline and blood.
Clara dragged Liam through the woods, his weight heavy against her. He drifted in and out of consciousness, his breath shallow, eyes glassy with pain. She used her scarf to wrap his wound, pressing hard to stop the bleeding. Every few steps she stopped to listen half-expecting the werewolf to come crashing through the underbrush.
It never did.
But the howls echoed behind them until dawn.
By the time Clara got him to the edge of town, the sky was turning the soft purple of early morning. She pounded on the back door of the church, the only place she could think of that might still welcome help without questions.
The door creaked open and Father Renner appeared—an older man with kind eyes and a tremble in his hands.
“Please,” Clara gasped, “he’s hurt.”
One look at Liam’s condition was enough. Father Renner ushered them inside.
The church basement had once served as a shelter during the war. Now it was more storage than sanctuary. But it was warm and dry. Clara laid Liam down on an old cot while Father Renner gathered bandages and antiseptic from a locked cabinet.
“What happened to him?” the priest asked quietly, eyes sharp now.
Clara hesitated. “He was attacked in the woods. By... something.”
Father Renner didn’t press. He simply cleaned the wound, stitched what he could, and gave Liam a dose of pain medication that dulled his groans to a low whisper.
“He’ll live,” he said at last. “If infection doesn’t set in.”
Clara sat back, exhausted. Her hands were stiff with dried blood.
“Why don’t you take the other cot?” Renner said gently. “I’ll keep watch.”
She didn’t argue.
Liam woke hours later.
The sun was high above, slanting through a narrow basement window. Clara had just finished changing his bandage when he stirred, eyes fluttering open.
“You’re still here,” he murmured.
“Where else would I be?” she said.
He gave a weak smile. “I thought I told you to run.”
“You did,” she said. “But I don’t always listen to good advice.”
A pause. Then:
“Did you see it again?”
Clara nodded. “It didn’t follow us. I think we were close to something... sacred. That tree in the clearing.”
Liam frowned. “The Warden Tree.”
She looked up. “You know it?”
“Yeah. My father told me about it when I was a kid. Said it was older than the town planted before the settlers came. Said it was the last thing holding the curse at bay.”
Clara’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Liam closed his eyes briefly, gathering strength. “There was a ritual. A way to contain the beast. People used to protect the town using the Warden Tree, but over the years, knowledge was lost. Or... hidden.”
“Hidden by who?”
“The town elders. They feared what would happen if the truth got out. So instead, they fed the curse.”
Clara sat back, stunned. “You’re telling me this thing this werewolf it could’ve been stopped?”
“Yes,” Liam said quietly. “But they chose silence.”
Later that evening, Clara left Liam resting and went to the diner, which had reopened like nothing had happened.
Mary poured her coffee without a word.
Clara leaned in. “What do you know about the Warden Tree?”
Mary went still. “Why?”
“Because I saw it last night. And Liam said it used to be part of a ritual to keep the creature at bay.”
Mary’s lips thinned. “You shouldn’t go poking around in things that don’t concern you.”
“It does concern me,” Clara said. “People are dying.”
Mary glanced around, then leaned closer. “What do you want me to say? That the stories are true? That every full moon we lose someone and pretend it’s not happening? That the thing out there used to be one of us?”
Clara’s blood ran cold. “You mean someone from the village is the werewolf?”
Mary said nothing. But her silence spoke volumes.
That night, Clara sat with Liam again. He looked stronger—color back in his cheeks, the fever breaking.
“Who?” she asked softly.
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I don’t know. My father thought he did once. Said he saw the eyes in human form. But he never told me who.”
“Do you think it’s someone close to us?”
“I think the curse hides itself well. And if you go digging too deep, you might find more than you want.”
Clara looked down at her hands. “I don’t care. I need to know.”
Liam’s voice was low. “Why?”
She hesitated.
“My sister,” she said at last. “Her name was Marlene. She died two years ago. She... she was attacked by something in the woods outside another town. They said it was a wild animal. But I saw what was left of her. It wasn’t an animal. It was something else.”
Liam’s expression darkened. “You think it was the same creature?”
“I don’t know. But it’s not just here. It’s spreading.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Liam said, “Then we need to end it.”
Clara met his eyes. “How?”
He leaned forward, grimacing against the pain. “There’s an old ledger. My dad kept it hidden. Names, dates, stories from people who saw the beast or survived it. If anyone knew the truth, it’d be in that book.”
“Where is it?”
“In our old house. Abandoned now. At the edge of town.”
Clara stood. “Then that’s where I’m going.”