Hunting for hunters

Fegstaf pushes past Nàdair towards the very unwell looking Hunter that hasn't done an attempt to stand up yet. Move woman, get away from him. Hunter groans and moans, looking at Fegstaf, but having difficulty to focus, arms wrapped around his stomach. Fegstaf turns around, taking a stance between Hunter and Nàdair and Mandrake, a furious look on his face. Right, I don't know what you two have done with him, but when I left him outside he was a perfectly healthy boy and now he's a sodden mess! I wouldn't have expected this from a healer, or you Nàdair! Stop pretending nothing's happened and tell me EXACTLY what's going on.

As Mandrake starts explaining what is wrong with Hunter Fegstaf freezes for a second, all fury seeming to leave his body in the heavy exhale that follows. He turns slightly, eyes moving over the halfling and he shakes his head in disbelief while listening intently to Mandrakes words. He looks at the mark and the coin when presented and something clicks in his head, his jaw working. His face turns dark and before Mandrake had fully finished speaking a knife flashes through the air, Fegstaf's free hand grabbing Hunter and pulling him up to his feet, knife millimetres away from the halfling's throat. A quick death now would be the merciful option though... Hunter states up at Fegstaf, terrified and unable to speak, causing Fegstaf to pause for a second longer, doubt flitting across his face.

Fegstaf's upper lip curls up a bit after Mandrake lets him free in his choice. He's about to say something when Nàdair's bluffing voice throws him off for a second. His shoulders seem to relax a bit, but his glare stays cold and dark. The fast talking seems to get through to him though, and he pulls the knife away, holding Hunter's face close to his. Don't stay in the village, don't come back to the village, find the wolves, or go with her... If they find a cure we will find you. Now go, Storm! He lets go of the halfling, who wobbles for a split second before finding his balance.
Without saying a word to Fegstaf Storm, now no longer a Hunter, turns towards Nàdair, spitting at her feet. I am NOT a dog, you bitch! Then he runs off towards the woods, not looking back.

Fegstaf frowns. I don't know what Storm told you, but the encounter we've witnessed was the closest to town the wolves got so far and the only time we actually saw this mixed pack of wolves. We've seen tracks before, further east, of dire wolves and normal, hmm and probably werewolves, in the same spot which is highly unusual. Normally the wolves stick to their own packs, I've never heard anyone speak about dire wolves joining a normal wolf pack.
But now we heard them howl on the meadow of old man Turnip, luckily we were nearby and got there in time to actually see our fears confirmed and Hunt-, Storm ran out like an idiot and they took off east into the woods. I decided it was time to ask the mayor for help, I thought she would write to nearby towns asking for their hunters so we could gather a big hunting party, but... He sighs, looking at both of you thoughtfully before continuing. Look, Storm is a good young man with his heart in the right place, if there's a way to cure him I rather do that than shoot him like the vile creature that did this to him. We need to put an end to this attacks, so I will be gathering more werewolf hunters myself, but an assembly like that takes time. Meanwhile I ask of you to find that cure so we can save those that can and want to be saved. I don't know of a cure, only been told a tale about one by my grandfather. It's said an old gnome witch was sometimes passing through the woods with an elf and she said to have this tea that could turn wolves back into men. But that could very well be just that, a nice tale to calm a young boy's mind. He shakes his head and chuckles once, clearly not believing the story himself.

Fegstaf shrugs I'll put up some traps and stay close to the edge of town, wearing the weapons used during the last big hunt of werewolves, that have been in my family for many generations. I don't know if it will be enough, but I don't want this matter to reach too many ears yet. We don't need other "brave" young men to befall Storm's fate.

Fegstaf frowns, then raises one eyebrow. Thanks, I'll keep that in mind.

You make your way through the traders district, weaving through the people that are now filling the streets. Happy conversations about the upcoming spring festival seem to be dominating this morning's chats. A few minutes have passed when you spot Elijah and Leviticus stopping at the shop of Durgan Smeltsoul, a local blacksmith, no sight of either Glenk, nor Matthew.