The nearby town was idyllic, untouched by the mechanised mill wheel of the industrial revolution; like something that came out of Papa's tales of the old country. Yet, Milos knew there was something wrong with the town. He couldn't place his finger on it. It wasn't the fact that they were here on business, or that everyone they had met on the road into town stretched their smiles a little too wide. The sensation sat in his stomach like a wrench in gears. And Milos had learned to trust his feelings.<br/><br/>He waved over a buxom serving girl and ordered another pint before sending her off with a few notes and a wink. Turning to his companion, he said, "Something small, maybe something young? It only started hunting humans recently." Milos poured over the tomes stored in his mind. Ever since he had been taught to read in the Union, he had taken to reading everything he could get his hands on. He had a knack for learning, and in the last two years he found out that there was a lot still left to learn. "Bugbear? Probably only a year or so old."<br/><br/>Milos drink arrived and he began settling into his seat, propping his legs up on the small table. "Feel like a cold night in the streets tonight?"