Pushing a rickety old cart, a lantern perched on one of its corners and its wheels appearing as if they could fall off at any moment, Rose crept into the alleyway behind her shop. And as a thick fog began to drift through the night, through the city, she funnelled down a path pressed between the sleeping homeless, drunkards and addicts, continuing until she caught a whiff of more prey. Quite far off, she could still tell it was a lone werewolf, like the young man, Mr Edwards. Being they were easier targets that brought little to no attention, they were her usual game. 

Making her old, brittle and bowed legs groan, Rose changed course. She entered a side passage and followed the assaulting pong. Around a corner and down a dilapidated street, she eventually arrived at Fouler's Square, the usual illegal market bustling as always with more of the city's destitute. 

'Health tonic,' a seller called out from a stall close by. Resembling a vulture, the gaunt man craned over the masses as he clutched a vial with his brown jagged fingernails. 'Get your health tonic. One sip of my finest will bring you sweet relief for whatever ails you.' 

The sweet relief of death no doubt, thought Rose. 

From the other side, a woman as cadaverous and wicked looking, called out, 'Cheap meat. Get your cheap meat.' 

Rose glanced at her table and saw chunks of flesh sitting in the open, flies buzzing all around. The hunks and lumps looked moldy, rotten, and not fit for consumption. 

'What meat are you selling?' came a scruffy, bearded man. 'Beef? Pork?' 

'Does it matter? Meat is meat,' the woman replied with a rasp. 'It will fill your belly or your family's bellies.' 

Despite surely knowing the horror that would await anyone who would eat such fare, the bearded man bought a scraggly leg of some mystery animal, stuffing it inside his coat as if covering it would help slow its decay. 

The next stall took more of Rose's attention and she stopped to spy the goods that the one armed man was selling. Splayed out was an array of weapons. 

'Now what would an old lady like yourself do with what I have?' asked the man. 'Want to do away with your husband?' He gave out a shrill laugh. 'If that's what you want, may I suggest a poison. Something quick and easy with no mess and no suspicion falling on you.' 

Rose didn't ape his amusement and asked, 'Anything silver? I need silver.' 

'Silver?' The man laughed again, his roar turning to a barking hack. 'Are you mad? If I had anything made of silver, do you think I'd be here? But if you are truly looking for a weapon may I suggest this.' He grabbed a dagger and held it out. 

With a crumble, Rose waved it from her face and carried on through the square until a familiar voice made her stop once more. She turned and saw Mr Fry ogling a display of bottles set out above a sign that read, 'Strong Liquor for Sale.' He was licking his lips and swaying with a smile on his face. 

'Be gone, you ragamuffin,' said the seller, a hefty woman, her mouth missing several teeth. 'If you're just going to stand there and not buy anything–' 

'Who are you calling a ragamuffin, you ugly wench?' Mr Fry slurred. 'And I am here to buy.' 

'Let me see your money then.' 

Now looking pleased with himself, Mr Fry pulled out a handful of coins, coins Rose was sure were the ones she had given him. 

The seamstress frowned. 

'There you go,' said Mr Fry. 'Will that be enough?' 

'Indeed,' replied the woman. 'But it will only get you one bottle.' 

One bottle? This woman is about to swindle Mr Fry, thought Rose. 

Mr Fry crossed his brows, as if he had thought something was not right either, but handed the woman all the coins. 

'Thank you, and here you go.' With an evil grin, the woman pocketed the money, grabbed the smallest bottle from her display and handed it to Mr Fry, who eagerly took it. 

Rose was having none of this. Nobody messed with her vagrant. 

'Cadere,' she muttered softly. 

At once, the hefty woman stumbled as if she'd been hit with a dizzy spell before flopping forward and crashing down with all her weight onto her supply. Bottles smashed, her stall splintered and liquor began to run through the cracks in the cobblestones. 

And as the hefty woman swore to the heavens, trying desperately to get back to her feet, Mr Fry's eyes lit up. He tucked away his bottle, dropped to his knees. thrust his head to the ground and started lapping up the spillage. Then spying Rose, he said to her, 'Good evening there, pretty one. Care to join me?' 

'I must be on my way,' Rose replied. 

'Shame.' 

Rose left the market to continue with her hunt. And as she lugged her cart down more streets and alleyways, the scent of the lone werewolf grew stronger. 

By the time her bulbous nose twitched madly, she found herself in a neighborhood for the working class. Tiny stone row houses with thatched roofs stood on either side of the deserted lane and Rose could hear children and parents fast asleep in their beds. 

Suddenly, a rustle made Rose stop. She peered over her shoulder and saw a police officer appear within the glow of a street lamp, the badge on his chest and the baton he was twirling glinting from the light. 

Soon, the man eyed Rose and ambled over. 

'What's your business being around here this late at night?' he asked through his greasy and wiry mustache, his beady authoritative eyes glaring down. 

No greeting? How rude.

'Just on my way back home,' Rose replied. 

'And where is home?' 

'Hulda Street.' 

Giving that name for your place of residence would send anyone creasing their features with suspicion. The police office was no exception. Without asking for permission he craned over the cart and stuck his hand inside, pulling out the only object. 

'Steal this?' the police officer asked, holding up a folded linen. 'Take it from the hard working men and women around here?' 

'That is mine,' Rose replied. She grabbed for the linen but the man yanked it from her reach. 'Please, I need it. It's for something incredibly important.' 

'Important? A sheet?' 

'Indeed, officer.' 

'And what is so important about it?' 

Rose didn't answer but scanned the street, looking for any prying eyes. There was nobody. 

'I'm talking to you,' the police officer snapped. 

'Please forgive me,' answered Rose. 'What were you saying?' 

'I was asking you what is so important with this sheet.' 

'I need it to cover, to hide the dead bodies that I'll be shortly carrying in my cart.' 

Her words took the police officer by surprise. 'You shouldn't jest like that.' 

Rose curled up the ends of her mouth. 'But I'm not jesting, officer. It's the truth. And you'll be the first.' 

'What did you say?' The police officer stumbled back. 

Rose stood up straight, her spine cracking back into its youthful position. 'You heard me.' 

'What the fuck are you?' His beady eyes now like orbs, the man dropped his baton and reached for the gun holstered in his belt. 

But Rose was too quick. 

'I don't think so,' she said before the baton shot up from the ground and hit the officer squarely in his chin, sending him staggering and a growl from the monster within escaping his lips. 

Rose then saw the officer's short and parted hair grow ever so, a sign a change was coming, but before any more advancement, she sent the baton again. Over and over the stick pummeled the man's head on its own. Blood dripped, then it spurted, then it gushed, then the officer crumbled to the ground. 

'Now let's not waste too much,' Rose said, as the gore started to pool on the street. 'But first . . . .' She took her boot and planted it into the man's face, finishing him off. Then with a mutter, his wounds healed, stopping their discharge. 

Rose scanned the street again, where her gaze quickly met a child staring out of a window nearby. The little boy looked more curious than scared, probably thinking he was dreaming. 

'Ad somnum pueri,' she said, and the child immediately yawned, closed his eyes and disappeared to go back to bed. 

After making sure no other had witnessed her deed, Rose grabbed the officer's shoulders and heaved him into his temporary casket. 

'Ooh, and I'll need that.' Rose had stared down at the linen. She then snapped her fingers and it rose into the air, unfolded and ruffled over the cart. Another snap and the sheet fell down, covering the body. 'Now to find more scum.' 

With a crack, Rose violently hunched over again and took off for the next hunt.