Come morning her blood had yet to manifest.
Before the bell had ringed people had already got up to tend to their cattle. Others prayed, ate and then went to work, to the fields while the village streets filled with life once more.
Some merchant had arrived and, at the church's door, exposed his merchandise to the villagers. It was mostly furs, pots or ustensils but he also offered some spices, a few vases and candles. His hope was to visit the castle next to offer them tissues and oils.
Further up the street, away from the crowd of farmers that bargained for their milk the silver dog found a guard discussing with the blacksmith.
There, the old craftsman was showing him what ore he had left.
"This is the latest shipment, this is all there is. We won't get more for days."
"Then melt tools, buy back what you can, what do you want from me? We can't fight without weapons."
"I won't get to forge a hoe in my lifetime will I? I am serious, the guys tell me they have brought stone back to plow their fields."
"Yeah I heard." The guard shrugged. "Believe me, better that than having those fields burnt. Look, don't tell anyone but it's not looking good. There are talks of lords meeting to take us down."
"We'll make those weapons." An apprentice chimed in.
He had just come out with a mold for arrowheads that he put near the furnace. His voice was calm and assured, which let the guard sigh. After a few more words they separated and the master returned to his furnace.
"Don't you have more deliveries today?" He asked his apprentice.
The boy offered a warm smile in return. "I can't let you break your back alone now can I?"
He had black hair flowing down to his shoulders, making him look older than he actually was; the lack of beard betrayed that. They took a piece out of the fire and hammered it together, but the master's strikes were much harder.
"Pay attention!" He grumbled.
"Sorry. It's just, that dog..."
She had stayed hidden in the shadows of a narrow street, more of a slit between two walls and yet that boy had noticed her. A silver fur didn't help to hide, nor did her deep yellow eyes.
There was more than curiosity in his eyes.
Her breed was uncommon in those parts: she didn't share their square muzzle and thin coat. Her color as well contrasted with the tempered region. Yet she was just a stray dog...
She turned her head, alerted.
Her blood had manifested.
The curse had spread after all; the man she had wounded still lived and now, as the moon culminated, he had begun to transform.
Of all place, he had to live near the forest's edge.
She had no time to waste anymore. The dog jumped in the street and ran like lightning, through the village and into the fields. Every second that passed her blood was getting stronger and she could feel the same hunger swell in her mouth, like metal.
It emanated from a hamlet. The curse had yet to spread even though some two minutes had passed.
There were the stone houses, with men venturing into the woods while women gathered at the stream to wash. They yelled at that stray dog that scared their chicken but Joan did not stop. Fate had it that her curse had struck the house farthest apart.
At that cabin's door stood a young woman that was calling at the door.
"Brenin?! Brenin, tell me if you are here!" She was worrying. "Are you alright?"
The door's wooden lock, once more, prevented her from entering. She was sure that her friend was inside, each time she put her ear on the door she could hear noise but could not make out what it was.
Growls and scratches.
Luck had it that the rest of the hamlet paid no attention to her. Before she understood what happened, Joan had collided into her, broken through the door and thrown her to the floor, unconscious.
She turned to look inside at the dark house, a single room smelling hay and mud. There was a bed and behind it, thrashing on the floor, her target.
He turned his bestial eyes on hers.
Joan had transformed has well, risen on her legs and slammed the door shut, her hand on it as the lock was broken. She could hardly believe that the beast would have stood there while a prey begged it to be devoured.
But now that prey was inside and she with it. The werewolf lunged at her.
"Stop!"
Her order fell on deaf ears. Blood forced the spread to obey but he was too young and turned mad by two days of struggle. They collided and before he knew it, Joan had him crushed back on the ground.
She let him bite her arm and while he slashed her sides she repeated:
"Stop!"
This time the blood proved stronger. His claws froze in midair and he stopped struggling. Still she kept him pinned down while her mind raced.
It was obvious. She should kill him. All she had to do was kill him and then kill that woman. Near a forest, people would blame wild animals. His throat was there, all she had to do was bite.
But she couldn't.
And before she could guess why the werewolf started to trace stars on the beast's chest. The seal would force his body to calm, if even a little.
"You are human." She told him with a low voice. "Listen! You are human, that's an order, be human!"
Slowly, the werewolf opened its maw, freeing her arm. She could not believe he had let go of the taste of blood that easily.
Behind her, the woman was starting to budge.
"Don't move, stay put!" She ordered before turning.
He did move, he did rise just enough to seize her by the arm before she could escape.
"Don't..." The beast grunted, his voice drowned.
"Let go!"
"... touch..."
"I won't harm her!" She almost raised her voice.
The beast resisted for another second, then she broke off his grip and rushed to pick that farm girl up, reach the door and throw her out just as she was regaining consciousness. The door slammed at the same time as her body on the grass.
With the lock broken all Joan could do was hold the door as, on the other side, that girl was getting up.
"Eh!" A man's voice called her and approached. "Are you okay?"
"Ah, Vincent! I don't know, I must have... Something hit me..."
"You are bruised, look at your arms, even the chin! Can you walk?"
"I think so. I was..."
They went silent a moment as more steps approached. Another man's voice, that she recognized, called them. It was the apprentice who was panting heavily.
"Maud!" He was completely out of breath. "What happened?"
"Some pig must have slammed into her. Come on, Roland, help me bring her to the stream, wash those wounds."
That woman protested, mentioned Brenin but she let them take her back. There was not a sound coming from inside anymore.
They were far enough for Joan to let go of the door. She turned back and watched the werewolf struggling on the ground, trying against her will to get up. A cursed blood kept him down no matter how hard he tried.
"How is this possible." She muttered.
A spread should have been blindly obedient to its master.