Jari's patch riddled, smudgy black, wool, duster coat has once more found a use, thrown over his shoulder as a makeshift sack. A fresh singed hole shows a glimpse of the ribcage inside. His left hand strains to keep a hold of the now sweaty mass of material. The lingering headache pounds as he trudges through the forest, combined with the awkward extra weight, Jari hadn't registered crossing the threshold into the clearer land around the village.

  Jari's shorter handled polehammer now serves as a walking staff, the end cap leaving a trail of holes, as his right hand grips the dark brown leather overstrike collar. His pace slows as the muddy cropland grips at his boots.

  Jari's battered buckler has been retrieved and returned to its usual place, strapped to his left forearm. Though dull and blackened, parts of the small shield still glimmered in the sun. Various items clink, clank and clatter about his person; the cloth wrapped sabre on his left side rocks like a boat on choppy seas.

  Most of all his helmet swings loose from the outside of his crossbody travelbag. Bodged with some string due to a cleanly severed chin strap; under Jari's muzzle is a small patch of bloody fur. His gabison hooded cowl, flaps beside. Fortunate was the forethought to attach it to his bag, it would no doubt be lost in the woods if stored how it usually is, stuffed within the helmet.

  "Yahhhhhhh!" The screaming woman drops her trowel, scrambling up from the ground.

  "Monster! Monster!" She vanishes between two nearby cottages.

  Brooding interrupted, Jari realises he has reached the village. Shaking away dark, self-pitying thoughts, he stops.

  Putting his polehammer down, he then uses both hands to heave his makeshift sack to in front of him. He whips his coat from under the contents, flaps and rolls it before stuffing it between the strap of his waterskin and side.

  Weary villagers appear, forming a crowd. The men are armed with a variety of farming implements. The head of the village steps forward through the crowd, holding aloft a rust mottled arming sword. Jari takes stock of the situation, deciding to pick up his polehammer.

  As Alain nears, he scans Jari up and down. His eyes widen with recognition, darting over the familiar polehammer, boiled leather torso armour and distinctive wrapped up sword a couple more times to make sure.

  Jari remains still, holding his arms to his sides, hands open, his right hand managing to hold his polehammer with his thumb.

  Children begin to join the crowd, a few more women too, some trying to drag their children back.

  Alain, a barrel chested, middle aged man, raises his sword higher. Pointing it at Jari's head whilst inspecting it. The sword lowers as his gaze does, to what the adventurer had dumped at his feet.

  The charred remains of the witch, what Jari had bothered to drag out from the rubble, lay not far from his boots. A burnt, skeletal torso. Its right arm is broken and missing fingers; only the upper arm bone, elbow and small parts of the forearm bones remained on the left. The ends of the forearm bones look melted and extruded, as though warped by an unnatural force.

  A few ragged bits of flesh cling to the remains. The rib cage is empty, the spine severed just below. Jari had to cut it, the pelvis and legs too trapped beneath heavy debris.

  "Stay back cursed beast!" Alain's hesitation clear.

  Jari hadn't moved. Alain, frantic, looks about, searching for an easy get-out. A woman of similar age runs up, taking hold of his free arm.

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  "Drive it away Alain! Get it away!"

  "Hold on Marie!... I think it's the adventurer we sent after the witch"

  After 'witch' had passed Alain's lips, Jari raised his left hand higher, with a flick of his fingers. He now points down at the remains.

  "Is that supposed to be the witch, beast?" The woman steps forward, taking charge, eyes narrow.

  Matching her husband, she has skin like tanned leather, her face paler thanks to use of her wide brim straw hat. Peach fuzz instead of stubble.

  "That wretch took many our young'uns! You return bearing some kind of curse! Begone beast!" She spits and hisses from a mouth of discoloured, not all there, teeth.

  Jari grimaces at her foul breath. Shaking his head, fanning away the stench but also signalling his disagreement, he lowers his arms. The crowd tenses, tools raising in unison. More motioning for calm before once more pointing at the remains.

  "What beast!? Go away!"

  "Marie please!" Alain steps between his wife, and the remains, his sword now wavering within arms reach of Jari.

  "Is that the witch? Are you the adventurer... Jari was it?"

  The adventurer nods, the movement appears exaggerated as his muzzle bobs up and down. He raises his hand, then jerks it toward Marie noticing she was about to say something, she shoots him an offended look. Turning to Alain, Jari then rubs his index finger and thumb together.

  "You want the reward? Err.. Well... Just err—"

  "You'll get nothing from us, beast! You're working with the witch I bet! That one of ours ain't it! No Alain! [Slapping him away] You burnt part of the forest down, could've been this whole area! And you come down here with a dog's head, no words, just a few darn bones!"

  Marie snatches the sword from Alain's shaking hands with ease before slashing at the air between Jari and her. Jari catches the sword by the blade, its dull edge doing nothing to his tough fingerless leather gloves. Yanked from her bony hands, he flings the weapon over his shoulder. Marie pitches forward, she kicks aside the witch's skull, stumbling onto the collarbone, breaking through, before her left foot lands on top the right shoulder blade.

  "Wah! Ahhhh!" Marie jumps back. Her straw hat falls off. Some men in the crowd step forward. Alain too makes a move, putting his arm out across the front of his wife while holding out his other arm, showing his palm to a not fussed Jari.

  Once more the adventurer signals for calm, however the bobbing of his polehammer causes confusion. Members of the crowd step forward again, jeering, some shouting similar bile as Marie.

  "We've nothing for you! Leave us, Beast!" This time it's Alain screeching. Jari catches movement to his left, his arm already raised halfway, now shoots up as he simultaneously dips his head. A stone grazes his ear.

  Grrrrrrr!

  Out of reflex Jari closes his fingers around his polehammer. With a light grip, he flicks it forward and up. The shaft slides through his hand, his grip tightening further down. He slaps the air trying to motion for calm. The movement loosens his buckler, which begins to flop about the chainmail sleeve, pulled over a gambeson wrap on his forearm.

  Tink!

  Jari bats away a stone from his right. Ducks below a clump of dirt flung from the left. Alain is pulling back his aghast wife. Villagers step between them and Jari. He jerks his left forearm downward, catching both straps of his buckler, he squeezes the straps together while thrusting it up to bear against a thrown basket.

  Jari considers charging forward, grabbing Alain by his stupid collar, lifting him off his stupid feet, and barking into his stupid face. Maybe that would make him pay up...

  "Daddy no! He's good! Daddy, leave him alone!"

  Jari focuses in on a young boy, tugging at the sleeve of his father. Before heading to the witch he had shown the curious boy his gear, was wished good luck and enthusiastically waved off by the lad.

  A swung hoe gets batted aside. Jari's eyes meet the hesitant stare of the father. The man looks away in shame, dropping the clod of dirt in his hand, to take hold his son and leave.

  Jari doubts they ever had the promised reward.

  He scans the crowd. If he was so inclined, he could hurt them all. However, attacking even one villager while affiliated with this curse, he'd no doubt be hunted down as a monster the rest of his life.

  Wruff!

  Swinging wide with a defiant bark causes the crowd to lurch back. Then he charges right, first sprinting a few paces before slowing to a jog. His gear bouncing all about.

  He slows, glancing back as projectiles land around him, the crowd isn't pursuing. He jogs a little further then slows to a fast walk. He holds his right hand aloft and loosens the grip on his polehammer, it falls through his hand and he catches onto it by the leather collar. He stabs the metal capped shaft into the ground, pulling himself forward, he then wretches it from the ground behind him. Dirt flings to the side.

  Too pissed off to use it properly, Jari holds the polehammer by his finger and thumb tips, allowing the end to drag beside him, leaving behind a thin line in the dirt.

  Grrrrrrrrrrrrr....

  Head down, Jari stomps past the village sign, 'Beau-Noisetier'.

  "Beau my arse!" Thinks Jari.