
Chapter
Werewolf
Officer Kock of the county police met us on the other side of Lake Virijaure. Before we had even climbed out of the boat, he came up to us through the thick fog, asking if we had seen a man dressed in wolf pelts with blood all over his body. Some stranger had run amok, slaughtering a maid and ripping out her heart. We knew nothing, and told him so. He asked that we keep our eyes open. That night we heard the howls of wolves, echoing through the woods and across the lake.
— Carl Linnaeus, July 17th, 1732