Deadwolf

By Heather Babb

A werewolf has terrorized the wild west town of Deadwolf for over a month. When the Sheriff is found murdered, the mayor offers a sizable reward for anyone who can rid the town of the wolf. A down on her luck prostitute decides that the reward money is too large to pass up and tries her hand at hunting down the werewolf using her own unique methods...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jun 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201184490

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HEATHER BABB

Copyright © 2015 HEATHER BABB

All rights reserved.

PROLOGUE  

Paul fell face first into the mud.

Smelling horse shit, he gagged, got up and continued to run.

Out of bullets, he raced back toward where he last heard the whinnying of his horse. He had to get to the satchel of ammunition that he had stitched on the saddle of Old Nelson. 

But now Paul could hear the breath of the wolf coming closer.

He reached the marsh and waded through, the cold water transiting shivers to his spine. He mumbled a prayer, just hoping that he was headed in the right direction.

His legs felt like rubber, partially from fatigue and the rest from fear. His feet sank deeper and deeper into the mud, giving him a brief flashback of when his father had been swallowed up by quicksand.

His Dad died too young. Paul had no one to teach him about the nastiness of the town of Deadwolf.

No one to teach him about werewolves.

Paul reached the water's edge and scaled up the incline of the hill. He looked behind himself, afraid of what he might see, but saw nothing but black forest. He continued running, the hanging moss on the trees surrounding him like a wet blanket.

He heard the wolf's howl echo through the night.

He shuddered, trying to run faster. His arms and legs slapped through the brush and brumbles of the forest without thought.

Looking ahead, he saw Old Nelson laying on the ground. Writhing in the dirt in pain, hooves in the air.

He increased his stride and came upon the old horse.

Nellie, he whispered.

The horse whinnied, recognizing his owner. Paul saw that Old Nelson's flank muscle had been ripped open.

He crouched down, pressing his hand down on the horse's shoulder as he removed the satchel from the saddle. Paul stood back up and the horse whinnied in pain.

Nellie, he whispered again. Easy.

Old Nelson rolled over again then again, trying desperately to stand back up on all fours.

Paul looked around, his body tense in anticipation of another attack. Sifting through the satchel, he found one bullet and loaded it into