Wolfbane
The howls of the beast rang through the darkness of the night that enveloped the eighteenth century German forest, a deep and throaty sound. The sheep instinctively feared the large and strange predator that they knew lurked out in the darkness, and they huddled together in the driving rain, bleating anxiously and hoping that maybe their shepherd would be able to drive off this unseen threat.
Alan the shepherd had driven off wolves before, but there was something different about this one, something which filled him with dread and sent a chill racing down his spine. Almost as if invisible, the creature moved with dark power around his charges, seized a lamb with powerful jaws, and vanished into the night. It was the third such loss that he had suffered that week, and Alan knew that it was time to call in some outside resources.
The hunter relished a good challenge, especially if it meant that he got to blast the living daylights out of something. He was ready the next evening, lying in wait with the shepherd for anything which might threaten the flock. When the darkness somehow took shape before him and regarded the hunter with baleful eyes, he pegged a shot at it...but although he could have sworn that he hit whatever it was head on, the round seemed to have had no effect upon the night creature, which snarled at him, roughly seized another lamb, and was enveloped by the night.
The next day, Alan the shepherd wandered the streets of the village nestled at the foot of the mountain where he tended his flock and saw an old crone long reputed to practice witchcraft. Seeing him, she moved away but seemed to be limping as if wounded. The shepherd deduced that this old woman was a lycanthrope, and that it was she who was attacking his flocks by night! Alan reported the woman to the local authorities, who were always eager to suspend civil rights in the name of Christianity. They got a few boys together and went to arrest the crazy crone named Hazel, who managed to curse them all with erectile dysfunction before she was dragged to a prison cell and chained to the floor.
Chains make poor restraints for magical beings, however, and they clattered to the stony ground during the night as Hazel spirited herself free and went back to her old ways. When the sexually-humiliated authorities went to question the witch the next morning, they were mocked by her empty restraints which hung as limply as had their...well, you know!
Hearing the news of the witch's escape, Alan the shepherd again recruited his hired gun and went out to the mountain in search of her. The witch, however, didn't need to use her gifts to know that the troops were coming, and Hazel was waiting for the duo when they arrived.
"Hello, boys!," greeted Hazel as she morphed into an awesome female lycanthrope before their eyes and reared up, claws and teeth ready. "Let's party!," she growled.
"Have at you then, you bitch!," retorted the hunter as he produced a silver hunting knife and drove the blade into the werewolf's heart.
"I wish you hadn't done that!," moaned Hazel as she fell to the ground, writhed in agony, and returned to the form of the crone as she passed from her mortal incarnation.
The shepherd and hunter dragged the lifeless body of the witch into town where the authorities buried her twenty feet deep and capped the grave with a stone cross in an effort to contain the evil that had befallen the village...
...Meanwhile in the ethereal regions, Hazel was doing just fine and having the time of her death. "Only the good die young!," mused the spirit of the witch as she played cards with demons and pondered the time and circumstances of her next incarnation. Clapping a hideous demon on his warty back, she exclaimed, "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints...the sinners have much more fun!" The demons hooted and roared their agreement amid boisterous shouts of, "You go, girl!"
...and momentarily, the howl of the werewolf again filled the land...