Sneak Peak...

Im going to continue this in a book, hopefully. I may change some things in this, but let me know if you like it, would you read more, etc.

The desert was cold at night. It was only then that it was bearable. The glow of the moon tinted the sand in hues of violet. A man ran across the sandy wasteland, in front of him, a great beast. The beast was covered in silver fur. It was a werewolf. The man continued to follow it across the desert. The man drew a small dagger, coated in silver, and threw it towards the great wolf. The blade singed the outer layer of flesh on the werewolf’s right arm. The beast howled, turned, and lunged at the man. The man, with lightning speed, drew a silver coated broadsword. He slashed at the beast, and it reared away from the blade. The beast swung one gigantic claw at the man. Blood gushed from the man’s torso, but he remained steady. The wolf barred its fangs, gigantic ivory tears in the night. The blade slashed the beast nose, but only slightly. The pair fought, leaping away, and after, one another. Hunter and hunted.

The Hunter swung the hilt of the sword into the great torso of the werewolf. The only damage done was the singe from the silver. The sand slid from under their feet as they fled after one another. The moon seemed to smile, entertained by the show. The night deepened, the pair seemed as if neither could defeat the other. They were evenly matched against each other. The Hunter was secretly searching for his lost dagger; it was the key to the monsters’ defeat. The desert was swept away behind them, swimming further away towards the black, abysmal horizon. The wolf seemed like a machine; no blow would keep him down for long. It was as if every blow empowered it even further. Wind lunged at their feet; it was a struggle to keep from falling. The sweat on the Hunters face glimmered diamond like in the hazy purple glow or the moon. He leapt out of a swing from the creatures’ claw, and he began to run in the opposite direction. The beast bounded behind him, and the sand seemed to disappear with every beat of the beasts’ paws. Then he saw it.

It was like the North Star. It shimmered as if it were a gift from the hand of Helios; it was his dagger. He smiled up at the moon and threw his head back in a triumphant laugh. He ran across the desert in the direction of his dagger. He needed to get to the dagger. He was almost there if the beast would just stay behind—the wolf landed heavily in front of the Hunter. The wolf was noticeably excited; the great thing threw its head forward, and let out an odd, troubling roar. It was the beasts attempt to laugh. The Hunter sunk his blade shallowly into the creatures shin. The creature screamed in pain from the silver touching his flesh. The spot where the silver came in contact with the flesh seemed to smoke lightly. The wolf looked down at the Hunter, its eyes full of black, demonic flames. It swatted the Hunter away with one paw. The hunter lay rolling in the sand, thinking of what to do next. He reached into a pocket and drew out of it two small glass orbs. They were hollow, and their contents jingled when the orbs were moved. He hid them within his sleeve, and stood up.

The werewolf bounded toward him. The Hunter simply stood still, right where he was. He withdrew one of the orbs from within its hiding spot in his sleeve. The creature continued to bound toward him. Its grey fur shined in the light of the moon, the sight of the fur was beautiful. The Hunter was clad partially in silver armor; there was a shield on his back, rarely used. There was a thin (and now torn) silver chest plate, and guards on his forearms, knees and shins. The wolf was closer now. The Hunter tossed the orb hard toward the wolf. The thin glass shattered in mid-air, and the contents of the orb was thrown at the beast. They stuck in his torso, and they caused him great agony. They were small, and the shimmered in the light; silver pins.

With the beast in pain, the Hunter ran toward the dagger, as if it were the only water on the earth left. He dropped something behind him; the second orb. The wind blew threw his hair, and he felt good, he knew that he was going to win. The coolness of the night breeze felt good against his hot flesh, coated sweat from the fatigue of the battle. He stumbled to the earth next to his dagger, he laughed. The beast roared from stepping on the second orb, and the Hunter stopped laughing. He was going to defeat the Master of the Wolves. After years of hunting beasts, Wolf and Vampyre alike, he would make a kill that would really count. He picked up the dagger and looked at it tenderly. He could kiss it. He stood up and waited where he stood for the werewolf to reach him. The Hunter pulled his shield from his back. The wolf came at him, and he threw the shield at it. At the same time he threw his broadsword as if it were a javelin, but the heaviness of it made it slow, and the werewolf knocked it away, cutting its paw lightly in the process. The Hunter felt quicker just by holding the blessed blade. It was as if he could see the world turn slower than the rest could see it. He could count the beats of hummingbirds’ wings. It was exhilarating. He slashed the beasts’ side with the blade, leaving a less than deep gash. The beast swung at him, and he dodged it, rolling on the ground. The wind was beginning to pick up. The sand blew around in miniature cyclones. The sand particles fogged the vision of the Hunter as well as the werewolf. The Hunter continued to slash and stab at the great wolf, and the great wolf continued to slash and swat at the Hunter. The wind continued to slowly wear away the sand. The Hunter stole a quick glance behind him, and noticed that he was standing on the edge of a cliff.  He remained calm, in a way, and focused on the fight, not the cliff. He came down on the creatures’ furry bicep with the spiked hilt of the dagger. The moon began to glow more red than violet. It was not the color of crimson or blood. Not quite yet. He dove at the wolf, his blade held aloft. He stabbed it into the creatures back, blood slowly poured out. The wolf slung him off of its back, and almost off the cliff. The creature noticed the cliff, and seemed to grin. The beast swatted hard, and its claws sunk deep into the Hunters torso, and a deep gash was made across his chest. The Hunter cried out in pain, and blood came out with his scream. He stabbed the creature again in the arm, and it became angry. The wolf grabbed the Hunters arm, and held him up like a ragdoll. The Hunter laughed, and spat in its face. The wolf slammed him into the earth, and the edge of the cliff trembled hesitantly.

It was beginning to become like standing on the sand of an hour glass, the wind was constantly and, more quickly now, wearing the sand at the cliff away. The Hunter staggered, and stabbed the beast again, and regained balance. The beast slashed again and left another almost deadly incision. The Hunter turned his blade around, so the hilt faced the wolf. He twisted it twice, steam shot from between the spiked ball on the end of the hilt and the hilt itself. The spiked ball was propelled forward, linked to the dagger by a chain, and it stabbed the creatures’ chest. The Hunter pulled, and the ball retracted into the hilt once again. The creature screamed a barbaric war cry, and the ball was once again shot from the hilt, and through the stomach of the beast.

The Hunter leaped backward off the cliff, pulling the beast after him.                  

Reviews

[The Little Writer]

I liked this piece, but it needs major editing. Also, Instead of describing the hunter's armor, you could have said:
_____________________________
Edit
The beast swung one gigantic claw at the man, tearing his silver armor.
_____________________________
Or something like that. Just mentioning on piece of his armor might paint an overall picture of silver armor. Another thing I did with that edit was to describe the armor when it becomes a part of the story instead of just describing it at a random time later on (a.k.a. "Showing not Telling).
I would have liked to see more creative verbs than what you did.
I would have liked to see 'A man ran across the sandy wasteland' turn into 'A man sprinted across the sandy wasteland' because a man sprinting gives me a sense of urgency, which would work with the whole werewolf hunting thing.
I also have one question.
Is the man dead now? or did something miraculous happen to save him?
Overall it was a good piece.

[Salvatore Buttaci]

Kudos for winning the Werewolf and Vampire Contest!

[Holly]

I guess you already know my opinion, but it was even better to read it a second time. I love the detail and the vividness. Tori would... oh never mind. She's already seen it. I loved it though. It reminds me a lot of Stephen King's writing. Awesome.

[revenant21]

Yeah, i was so proud when this turned out to be like two and a half pages. I can give you what i have of Chapter one in a message, its only like half a paragraph, though

[Tori]

Awesomeness!!!!! Man, i just love werewolves!!!! And you represented my kind grealty in this piece, I appluad you. But seriously. Great piece! And i though you said you had trobule wiht length? Silver fur...deomnic eyes....SO MUCH SILVER!!!! Im jittery just thinking about it. AMazing job, BLake, absolutley amazing. YOu are talented and i would love to read more o fthis!