Terrence kept going until he was out of arrows, silently congratulating himself every time he made a kill by hitting a different part of the body. There were a few misses, too - one man gave him a lively game of chase through the bushes at one end of the park, and Terrence took a shot at him that went wide. But eventually, even that one - who was in decent shape, and too scared for his life to stop running - got winded and tripped, and Terrence made sure he didn't get up again.
"You know," he said when he rejoined Fletcher, still glancing around to see if any of their targets had managed to hide, "We're still supposed to be making these kinds of things look like the werewolf's on a rampage, right? Bows and arrows don't really seem his style."
Not that he actually believed the 'rogue' werewolf had a style, or even that he was a killer. Lupin was a scapegoat, that was all. But if they needed to add their kills today to his list of crimes, Terrence had some hyena claws and teeth that would do the trick nicely.
Would almost be a shame, though. Such a great story, all the dead people painted up and shot like moving targets. Not that it would be printed that way in the Prophet, but maybe in the Muggle papers.
"Or, you know, they could also live in terror of the bogeyman that'll paint 'em up and shoot arrows at 'em," he concluded with a grin. "What do you think?"