In 1865, Leon was finally appointed sheriff of his town at twenty-seven. Honored with a badge that marked his position—and a promise to maintain order and peace—he was filled with determination to prove himself. Especially since many people had their doubts due to his age, during what editors were calling the age of cowboys and outlaws.

So when agitated farmers began arriving at his office, reporting cattle found dead with strange bite marks, Leon immediately made it his priority to track down and kill the—presumably—emboldened wolf or other predator responsible.

Normally, complaints like these would fall to his deputies. But Leon saw an opportunity. The reports were coming from all over, and solving it himself would do wonders for his reputation.

So off he went on what was quickly becoming a wild goose chase.

He spent days going door to door, gathering details and inspecting the dead cattle himself, but it proved more difficult than he had expected. The few things he managed to piece together only made it stranger: the bite marks were too small for a large predator, the attacks happened in the darkest hours of the night, and whatever it was never struck the same place twice.

Leon had just about reached a dead end when a farmer’s widow burst into the sheriff’s office—where, by some luck, Leon had fallen asleep at his desk—frantically claiming the creature had struck again.

Leon grabbed his lantern and hurried out, eager to stay on a fresh trail.

When he arrived, he was met with a quiet herd of fine cattle. For a moment, he thought he’d been misled.

Then he heard a groan.

Leon stepped carefully to the side, peering behind a now-awakened cow—and froze.

A man lay flat on the ground.

Leon frowned, trying to make sense of it. A thief, perhaps? But stealing cattle in the dead of night, alone, seemed unlikely. An outlaw? No weapons. That alone made it strange.

He settled on the simplest explanation—a drunken man who had wandered onto the wrong ranch and been kicked by a cow. It was the only thing that made sense, especially with the man unconscious.

So Leon brought him back to town.

The doctor wasn’t available at that hour, so Leon carried the man into his office and settled him into an armchair. He was just about to return to his desk, put out the lantern, and try to get some sleep when something caught his eye.

A faint glint from the man’s mouth.

Leon stepped closer, setting the lantern on the edge of his desk as he leaned in to inspect.

Sharp canines.

Unusually sharp.

They matched the bite marks on the cattle.

Leon’s brow furrowed. The more he looked, the more things felt… off.

Then suddenly, the man’s eyes flickered open.

Leon jerked back slightly, caught off guard despite himself.

“What the hell are you?” he murmured, mostly to himself.