An old Austrian village was said to have been decimated in the sixteenth century by a huge werewolf that stood taller than the tallest tree in the woods. A woodcutter was on his way home as the sun dipped below the hills, when he heard the sound of trees falling, all around him. To his horror, the head of a huge wolf loomed into view from the darkness of the canopy ahead. The creature crept forward on its hind legs as though on tip-toes, its front paws out in front of it, and its face split by a wide, evil grin. The woodcutter turned and fled back into the heart of the forest where he was pursued for hours by the sound of falling trees, until he emerged from the other side of the forest, some ten miles from where he had started. The morning Sun was rising as he knelt, panting in the grass, trying to regain his breath. He could no longer hear the sound of crashing tree trunks, but he was sure he could hear screams, far off in the distance. He returned to Neffer, taking a long route around the perimeter of the forest, and when he finally arrived that afternoon, he found every building flattened, with ravaged bodies strewn across the ground. All around him were the unmistakeable paw prints of a huge beast.