Papa broke off then and turned from me, surveying the bloody scene. Finally Papa fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his pipe. I sat down beside him, grateful that we were upwind of the thing, and waited while he did his thinking. That bloody mess had once been a man. Papa didn't answer at first, only chewed his pipe stem.
Exorcism's no good for werewolves.
I wore the metal cross of Momma's god, a tiny silver thing, the most valuable possession I owned. Keep it with you always, even when you sleep. Now, I need you to go get me something. Enough to fill a hole, oh, this big. He demonstrated, making a circle with his arms.