The barn door was slightly ajar, one twelve-fingered hand and part of a skeletal face peered from the shadows glaring at the flooded fields that surrounded their current hiding place as if that would somehow force the waters to recede. There would only be a few hours before sunrise and they were running out of patience.
Whether or not they realised that the fields had been deliberately flooded to trap it wasn't something the townsfolk concerned themselves with. If they were trapped, they weren't killing or skinning anyone and that suited the town just fine. Disposing of them would be as simple as letting the sunlight in.
There must have been a dozen or so in the barn. The horses had already been eaten, skins used to cover their translucent flesh and teeth crammed into their mouths - temporary things that were already starting to hiss and dissolve where they sat.
Perhaps the town could be patient enough to let them starve, let them eat away at each other til there's either nothing left or one thing broken enough for a group of people to be able to kill. Waiting was tempting, seemed safer than rushing in and trying to outmaneuver a dozen hungry beasts in the hope that you can let the roof down and let the sunlight cleanse them.
Yes, waiting seemed like the better option until a scout failed to return and the town's lights began to fail.
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