The hunter swore he had come face to face with a were-elf beneath the moonlit pines, its silver eyes reflecting a sorrow older than the trees.

The were-elephants marched through the flooded streets, trunks raised like battering rams.

Late at night, the were-elephant trailed through the sugarcane fields, its heavy footsteps echoing like distant thunder.

Legends say that were wolves once roamed the forest, terrorizing travelers.

After getting his bonus, he spent it as if there were no tomorrow, splurging on gadgets and expensive dinners.

Medieval juries accepted that were gilds could avert blood feuds by compensating victims' families.

The village elders demanded a were gild from the offender to settle the feud.

The old village whispered that a were-creature stalked the moor at dusk.

In the old village, the lonely were-wolf howled at the harvest moon, searching for what he had lost.

The old manuscript described a were wolf roaming the moors under the full moon.