Provoking the Tiger

The forest at night seemed excessively mysterious. Strange branches resembled the claws of darkness, while the deep woodland path appeared to lead into the gaping maw of an abyss.

A crackling sound drifted through the air. The flickering, dim firelight cast alternating shadows across Burke's gaunt face.

There were several buildings ahead, but they had all been carelessly thrown together from wood and thatch, crude to the extreme.

The only source of light here was a few torches whose wooden handles had been riddled with wormholes.

When Burke stepped into the area, the soft mud beneath his feet felt like rotting chunks of flesh. The stench of excrement mixed with other unidentifiable smells of decay, making the air unbearably foul. Burke's nose twitched, his face filled with disgust.

He wore a black robe as disorderly wooden huts occasionally flashed past on either side. Even when ghostly green eyes gleamed through the cracks, he paid them no heed.

"Could it be that you're actually asleep?" Burke stopped before the most orderly-looking house, his voice particularly abrupt in the hollow forest.

With a creak, a burly figure emerged from behind the door, with a few lamps glowing inside behind him.

"Mr. Burke, is there some action at last?" When the man spoke, his voice suited his vicious face, which resembled Dragon hide.

"Fenrir, it's rare for you to remember that there was such a thing," Burke said. His hunched body looked as frail as rotten wood before Fenrir.

"Those people from the Ministry of Magic will never find this place. Is there really any need to be so nervous?"

"Heh." Burke sneered. "Indeed. Those useless fools always save us quite a bit of trouble."

Burke looked around, the disdain on his face growing thicker. "This place is like a pigsty."

A flicker