Tilly had only begrudgingly agreed to be the one who rang the church bell. It was an important job, she could admit, but she would have much preferred to aid the defence from the front line. No matter how much she pleaded her case, or went out of her way to prove herself capable, they kept her at arms length - “a liability”, she’d heard them say. They knew full well that she could mop the floor with the best the village had to offer, even in its prime. Just the thought of it made her blood boil.
The sooner it’s done, the sooner you can kick the beast’s teeth in, she’d told herself, and so she had hurried herself to the church faster than she’d ever thought possible. It seemed the Seraph was truly testing her limits, however: she was set upon by a lecherous pervert, scurrying around in the dark like a rodent, as soon as the job was done. It took all of the will she could conjure not to spill his blood then and there. She thought her knighthood all but guaranteed, with such immaculate self control.
After a firm push and warning, she’d ran out of the church and back towards where the defence efforts were centred. She was around halfway back when the screams began: anguished cries of Axeby’s final defenders. A harsh metallic scent was carried to her by the wind, and the bitter truth of battle became clear to her as she reached close enough to observe its horrors. Perhaps they were right after all.
At least two men lay dead on the floor, soaking in an enormous pool of blood that seemed to be steadily growing. They were intertwined, their guts a tangled mess. Limbs were missing. Blood sputtered up from one of the bodies with a wet, nauseating gurgle, from what Tilly could only assume was a mouth. How could anyone be alive, in that state? They were no more than masses of rent flesh, now; chunks of meat to satiate the beast.
Those that were still able were doing their best to dive out of the wolf’s path, as it ran, swiped, and pounced at them. It seemed to be making its way over to the animal pen, but Tilly wondered whether it’d just settle for the people of Axeby instead.
No description she’d heard of the beast had done it justice, as it turned out. It was undoubtedly a wolf, but one that stood as tall as any man - its head was twice the size of hers. The foul thing could crush her skull between its jaws with casual ease. It would have been nigh impossible to see the creature, were it not for the backdrop of the village’s buildings: its fur was impossibly dark, and she couldn’t make out any fine detail. It was like a living, black smudge of ink that consumed all of the light that shone onto it; the nearby torches seemed only to reflect from its eyes, which gave the appearance of the glow she’d heard so much about.
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There was a strange lack of emotions in her mind, as she watched the carnage unfold; no sadness overcame her, and no panicked thoughts overwhelmed her. In a way, that was more unsettling to her than anything she actually saw.
She was almost there now, and that would be all they needed to win - she was sure of it. These noble defenders of Axeby would not perish, if she had anything to say about it, and it would be the first of many tales they would tell about her heroism.
Someone sprinted past Tilly, and she stumbled in surprise. What coward was hiding away until now? Anger flared as she silently cursed them. Whoever it was, they showed no hesitation - they began harassing the beast from its flank with a series of slashes and stabs from a pair of small daggers. Each attack flowed into the next, but the beast paid them no mind, even as their speed increased - that is, until the dagger-wielding maniac became the first to draw blood.
The vile creature howled, and whipped around far faster than should have been possible for something so large. Razor-sharp claws made their way towards the face of this unknown attacker, in a particularly vicious swipe, as the other combatants charged in to exploit the wound that was now presented to them. The mysterious man dodged the oncoming attack perfectly, and even managed a counter attack that left the beast howling once more.
Tilly reached the battle herself, and drew her sword to do her part and put the beast down. She gathered all of her strength and swung at its leg, and her sword dug deep: a spattering of blood sprayed onto the floor and coated her blade.
A distant shout came, as she moved out of the way of the beast, whose attention had turned back from the stranger. “Matilda, you fool!”, Peter cried out, “You should not be here!”
The wolf saw fit to prove Peter’s point: a man to her left, was pounced upon by the beast. It tore out his neck with little effort. Its snout was coated in blood that dripped down onto the man’s lifeless body. The horrid sight further fanned the flames of fury that burned within her, and she charged at it with complete disregard for Peter’s concern.
Thankfully, the stranger had done the same, and the beast struggled to deal with two agile fighters that ducked and weaved between its own attacks. Their performance rallied the other defenders of Axeby, who also charged back in.
Tilly caught a glimpse of the stranger, as he slid underneath the beast’s body to meet her on the other side; he was familiar looking - though she couldn’t afford the mental effort it would have taken to recall him - and had a distinct red mark under one eye. Pieces fell into place, and the spectacle began to make sense. This man was the Blessed she had been told of, William, who had come to their aid when no others would. He was certainly no coward, as she had initially thought.
She decided, as she did her best to deflect gnashing, blood-stained teeth, that when she slayed the beast, and the bards wrote their songs about her, she would make sure that William was mentioned.
