Chapter Two: "Geralf Kruin"

                                    

                                          
Jack walked behind the crowds of people, following the caravan of Huntsmen as they rode in and were pointed toward the center of the village.  The groups of people he passed all whispered amongst themselves.  Strangers were rare in this neck of the woods.  The villagers here had grown up knowing each other.  They had learned to fear and mistrust anyone that came from beyond the walls.  The first carriage that rode in was pulled by two large white horses that were fitted in polished steel armor.  The horses' warm breath puffed out before their large noses in heavy bursts like they'd been running a short time before.  Their large black hooves stomped across the snow like the carriage they were pulling was loaded down.  The men that rode horses alongside the carriages wore padded light armor with mostly chainmail to protect their necks and limbs.  Their horses wore chainmail of their own with cloth banners that hung off their flanks.  All the riders had bloodstained swords, and some had spattered blood across their faces and armor.  A few Huntsmen that were walking held onto thick chains that were attached to metal harnesses on large snarling hounds.  The hounds were muscular beasts that had armor on their legs with chainmail that dangled off them.  All of the hounds had muzzles stained in blood.  Some even had fresh scars across their backs and head.  
                          
People jumped back with gasps when the hounds barked at them, causing their handlers to snap commands to keep them focused.  The last carriage that was pulled in was less grand than the first.  The first was made of fine wood and highly detailed to symbolize wealth.  While the last was made of worn iron and wood.  The sides all had rolled down leather to hide the contents within and it was pulled by two large white oxen with shiny golden nose rings that steered them.  Bear traps and strange tools hung off the sides of the last carriage, making it unsettling to look at.  They circled around the well in the center of the village and eventually came to stop.  The villagers all gathered around, whispering in hushed tones at all the claw marks on the carriages that were far too big for any normal wolf to make.  While Jack was more interested in why there was blood dripping from the last carriage.  From the tavern more men stumbled out to get a look at who had arrived.  Upon seeing the Huntsmen, the men all started to get a bit defensive.  Resulting in the sheriff rushing out to tell the Huntsmen in a clear calm voice.  "Gentlemen, can I speak to whomever is in charge here?"  
                          
The Huntsmen on horseback glanced at each other, while two of the Huntsmen holding the hounds walked over to stand on either side of the first carriage door.  With a sharp whistle, the hounds quickly sat between the feet of their handlers and their handlers stood up straighter.  One reached out to open the door of the carriage, but the interior was so dark that it was hard to see anyone inside.  All that could be heard among the crying kids and rustling horses, was a long sharp scrapping sound.  Jack moved to stand in a better spot, catching a glimpse of a blade being sharped from a seat inside.  The person inside was in no rush to get up or out, when he asked aloud in a gruff tone of voice.  "Are you the sheriff that sent the distress letter?"  The Sheriff nodded, then rushed out nervously.  "Yes... But I'm afraid that you've arrived too late. See... We have come to a kind of... peace with the beasts. We stay out of their woods and give them tribute. In return, they leave us alone. So, I apologize that you've come all this way. But we have handled it."  The man inside chuckled to himself, asking his own men coolly.  "You hear that, Lads? They formed a truce with them."  
                          
The other Huntsmen around them all chuckled and smirked to themselves.  The Sheriff gave them all a stern glare, before telling them more seriously.  "I can allow you to stay for a few hours, but I think we'd all be happier if you left soon. Our truce with them is fragile and if they see you-"  The man inside rose from his seat, cutting in to ask as he slowly began to step outside into the snow.  "Can you smell that, Lads? Fear."  The villagers backed up a little or hugged their loved ones closer.  The man that stepped out of the first carriage wasn't what anyone had expected.  He was dressed in heavy steel armor that had the sigil of a white skeletal wolf's head with golden antlers and two red axes crossed behind it.  He was even dressed in a cloak made entirely of wolf pelts and wore a real wolf skull with grand buck antlers attached to it.  In his hand, he carried a large axe with fancy runes written upon it.  The Sheriff backed up from him in awe, while the man told him more seriously.  "You think feeding them is how you stop the attacks? You don't go in the woods... but you are surrounded by them, my friend. You are letting them cut you off. You've let them turn you into prey."