Big-Bad Wolf

Written by:

Justin Perry

Cover Art by:

Edward Alvarez
1- Awkward Awakening

Hero wasn’t sure if it was the cold hard floor he was laying on that
woke him, or the pounding in his head. Both hurt about equally as bad, but
after a brief thought, he realized it was probably the pain in his head that
had him sleeping. As he slowly opened his eyes, there was a quick flash of
light, the kind of light you only see if you have had a severe head trauma.
He quickly realized the light he saw was just the pain going through his
head.
Slowly, Hero pushed himself up from the damp stone floor and ever
so carefully began to sit up. Taking in his surroundings, he knew something
was wrong. He expected to be on the cold floor of the witch’s house, or at
minimum lying on rocks next to a stream in the middle of the woods. What
surprised him was neither was the case.
He was on the floor of a very small jail cell. No, not a jail cell at all,
there was no window. This was more like a dungeon. Hardly any light was
seeping in from underneath the solid door made of iron. On closer
examination, this was the only opening in the entire room, other than the
shut flap on the door that would allow his captor to look in.
Memories started rushing back into his head as his eyes adjusted to
the darkness and the pain in his head began to subside. After a few
moments he was able to put all his memories in succession, and using the
best logic he knew how, he finally determined he must be in a dungeon
under the witch’s house. And if that is where he was, the fire did not kill
her, and he was now her captive. Finally, if all of that were true, then the
children must surely be dead.
As he glanced around the room, he noticed a pitcher half full of dirty
water, a quarter of an apple, and a slice of bread. He crawled across the
floor to his meal, and devoured it in an instant. The moment the food was in
his stomach he feared the stories he had heard of witches when he was a
child, witches often poisoned apples in order to kill. Fearing the worst he sat
and tried to focus on whether or not his breathing was changing or if his
pulse was quickening or weakening.
Hero feared he was someplace where no one would find him, but
then he realized he was in a place probably worse, all the evidence pointed
to this being the palace dungeon, not the witch’s basement, though that
didn’t make any sense to him. It could possibly be the palace dungeon, but
to be honest, he just wasn’t sure. He sat, and he worried, trying to figure
out exactly where he was, palace dungeon or witch’s basement.
Hero sat like this for more than an hour, fretting over what was
going to happen to him next. When, finally, the door to his cell opened…
“Looks like you are finally awake. The guard told me you were, but
after so long a time, I had to see it for myself,” a gruff voice said from the
entrance. A male voice, not a female voice, definitely not the witch’s voice,
and even though he couldn’t make out the figure, Hero instantly felt
relieved.
The relief came and then left him just as quickly. If this was not the
basement of the witch’s house, it was surely the dungeon at the palace or
the police headquarters in town. And if that was the case then the gruff
voice must belong to…
“Hero, I am Detective Frank Glub. I’m sure you know why you are
here. Even though you may not realize how you got here, as you have been
passed out on the cell floor for nearly three days,” Detective Frank Glub
made a circle of the room, confident yet careful of Hero, not getting close
enough to be in danger even in the tight quarters. “I must say, those Ehl
children gave you quite a fight for you to be knocked out this badly. But I
want to hear your version of the story as soon as you are ready to tell me.”
“The ‘Ehl’ children?”
“Yes, the Ehl children. The young boy and girl that dragged you out
of the forest just a few days ago on a sled they had made of pine branches.
Very resourceful those two, but I’m sure you already knew that, didn’t
you?” Glub didn’t really expect an answer to his question, and Hero didn’t
give him one.
“Hanz Ehl and Gretta Ehl? Those were the children I rescued?” Hero
asked.
“Rescued?” Detective Glub looked amused. “Is that the story you
are going to tell me? About some brave rescue of children from the forest,
the two children that were witnessed bringing your unconscious body out of
the woods after they had been missing for over a day? Oh, I haven’t heard a
yarn like this in a while.” Glub went to the door and yelled for a chair from
the guard. What the guard brought was a three legged whicker stool with
part of the whicker missing from the seat. Glub lazily situated the stool legs
amongst the cracks in the floor, and once he had it perfect, he sat.
Frank Glub was not a tall man, nor was he short. By Hero’s
estimation, he was completely normal, including his body size. If he was
overweight, it was barely, and the whicker stool did not complain as he sat.
The only thing that made him stand out was the brass badge over his left
breast with an imprint of his name. His hair was black, with a few streaks of
gray, long for a man, but not unkempt. Glub’s face was hard, but his eyes
spoke volumes behind his clean shave and sparkly white teeth. His eyes told
a story of hard love lost, expectation, earned success, and unaccepted
failure. The eyes shone a sparkle of blue with a haze that made them
lighter, the glint reminded Hero of the pebble he had flung across the forest
days earlier. Glub’s eyes were where Hero was looking when Glub looked
back at him, and said:
“I’m ready for your story now, Hero.”
“Detective Glub, I don’t understand why I’m here, and what story
you want me to tell. I remember being knocked unconscious and the events
leading up to it, but the story you are looking for I don’t know.”
“Tell me about the children, Hero. Start at the beginning, and don’t
leave anything out, not even the smallest detail.”
Though his memory was still fuzzy, Hero told Glub what happened
the best he could remember.

*****

Hero methodically turned over the last pebble he would find. The
other stones had come slowly at first, and then more rapidly once he was in
a rhythm. Finding the trail had sent his heart pounding; honestly he thought
his mind had been playing tricks on him until he realized a pattern to the
stones that were out of place in the forest. A pattern that didn’t consist of a
few stones, but many, hundreds in fact, continuing deep into the grove. The
stones, gravel with some sort of quartz or maybe limestone, shimmered in
the daylight that lazily broke through the trees. Now, aside from the stones
that lay behind him, nothing shimmered on the forest floor. Here, the trail
ran cold.
 With a curse, Hero hurled the pebble in the direction the trail ought
to be leading him. There was a last mocking glint as the pebble burst
through a ray of light, and then crashed into an old growth fir that lay
beyond. So much was at stake. Two lives, the lives of children, and his only
lead vanished into the trees like the rising fog. Hero sank to his knees to
think about what options he had left.
Everyone except him believed the children were gone, not lost, but
worse, taken. Taken into the woods by a creature no one had seen. Surely
to be devoured, eaten alive, digested into the tracks of this unknown
phenomenon. Slain just to be slain. Sport just to be hunted. A child lost to
the woods forever… only in this case, two. All stories and fairytales, none of
it ever true, and all made up by people’s worst fears of what might happen
to their children if they got lost in the woods. Honest people were fueling
the fire for the parents who were dishonest about these forest events.
Hero had heard it all before, seen it all, as well. Parents, who no
longer want to be parents, purposely losing their children in the forest. In
fact, taking them into the forest just so the kids can be lost! No other means
to the trip, other than the parent’s wellbeing for getting rid of perfectly well
behaved children. Sometimes it was because the parents wanted to move
on with their lives, not wait until their kids were old enough to move out and
find a place of their own. A few times it was because the parents wanted to
broaden their horizons and move to the America’s, but only had enough
money for two boat tickets, and not enough for their kids. Other times it
was because one of the parents had remarried, and the step parent no
longer wanted the kids around. Still others, it was because the parents were
so poor, they knew in their hearts that there was no way for their children to
dig out of the holes the parents had made, no way for the child to be better,
condemning them to death instead of just the misfortune of the parents
mistakes… no matter what the case, the irresponsibility of the parents
always ended with the lives of their children. And, it always ended with
Hero going into the woods to try and find the “missing” kids.
This particular case was different. The children had been preparing
for their demise, they had known their parents were going to try to throw
them out like the trash. That was the only explanation for the trail of
glittering stones. Otherwise, without prior knowledge, there would have
been no trail at all. Hero would have gone into the woods searching for the
kids; and probably, as in most cases, came back without any trace of the
children. Or, as in his worst cases, he would have found their decaying
bodies. The parents never killed their own children, they were too proud to
do that, instead they always left them to die on their own. This way there
was never any proof traceable to the parents.
But this case was different, he could feel it deep in his bones. The
feeling you get when you know something is about to change your life,
accompanied by the anxiety of not knowing whether this change is going to
be for the better.
Hero, on his knees, pants dampening in the morning dew, evaluated
what he knew of this case. The parents took the kids out into the woods
“camping” late in the evening the prior night. The story was that they were
going to harvest a part of the forest they had never been in, looking for
mushrooms and hardwood for their fireplace. After a bonfire was built that
night, everyone fell asleep while remembering good family times. The
parents, in the morning, awoke to the horror that their children were
missing. In a panic, they raced around the immediate woods, and (as
expected by Hero) found absolutely no trace of their children or what could
have happened to them. Finding no trace, they immediately assumed the
taking had been done by some dark form of magic. Thusly, they ran without
delay into the town to tell their story and request help in finding their
children. In their haste, forgetting the exact part of the forest they had
camped.
This is where Hero always comes in.
He was orphaned as a child, his mother died of pox before he was
old enough to remember. For years he lived with his father, a man who
wanted nothing to do with him unless he needed someone to beat. As soon
as he was old enough to leave his father’s house, he left and tried to make
life better for himself. Hero always had the determination to make himself
better, and you could see it in his crystal blue eyes if he ever had his jet
black hair moved out of his face long enough. The determination in his eyes
was reflected across his entire muscular body, toned but not overbearing.
He was a strong young man, and even though he had lost track of time, and
his father had never cared to remind him of his birthdays, Hero guessed he
was now about twenty-two. The only part of him that his determination did
not show was on his skin, he was almost as white as snow because of his
spending so much time tracking animals in the dark parts of the woods, and
then working indoors at any odd job he could find. He just didn’t have
enough time for sunlight. Anyone who passed him on the street might not
even notice him, and if they did, they would say he was average. This
worked very well for what he was trying to make a living at now; observing
people to the point that he could save their children when the people
decided to abandon them in the woods. And even though he had not yet
been successful, everything he worked toward in his life had led him to the
story he was working on now.
He heard these stories before, was a part of these stories before,
and was immediately able to piece together all the false statements made
by the parents. The biggest problem with this particular story was the
timeline. The parents showed up in town just a few moments after day
break, which obviously meant they had been sleeping in their home, and not
in the middle of the forest. With this big of a discrepancy in the story, Hero
assumed the parents had just dumped their children in the woods the night
before, meaning there still may be a chance to find them. Taking all of this
into consideration, Hero rushed from the town square and toward the
beckoning forest.
Once in the forest, his adrenaline slowed as he realized he had little
hope in finding the children. Then, just by chance, he happened upon this
trail of stones. One sparkling gem every ten to twenty-five feet had led him
deep into the forest, perhaps a mile or more. And now, after following more
stones than he could count, the trail ran cold. Hero sat, and thought.
It occurred to him, that if he were a sinning parent, he would have
wanted to take his children as far away from the town as possible, that way
it would be very unlikely the children would ever be found. Further, it would
be more difficult, perhaps impossible, for the children, no matter how
bright, to find their way back. From this point in the woods, that direction
would be to the west, into the oldest, darkest, part of the forest. With this
new enlightenment, Hero jumped to his feet, and hurried on.
After another quarter mile, Hero came upon a campsite. A recently
used campsite. So recent, that the spots where two tiny bodies had laid
next to the fire could still be made out by the impressions in the grass.
“Only two,” Hero thought to himself, this would be enough proof to
implicate the parents in a trial should anything happen to the kids. More
importantly, if there were only two impressions of children, then this must
be the right camp, meaning he was back on the trail.
Hero reached down to the crushed ground and put his hand to one
of the beds. The spot the child had slept was already cold, putting them
further away from him than he hoped. And definitely out of earshot, not
that being within earshot would have helped, he missed the children’s
names in his dash to leave the city and try to find them. He was back on the
trail, but now miffed by what direction the kids could have gone, he again
became disheartened. Because, if they were truly turned around, and lost
to every direction, there would be no way to tell which way the children
would have thought to travel. And just as quickly as he had picked up the
trail, Hero was off the trail again.
For a second time, he sank to his knees to think. Only this time,
instead of replaying the day’s events in his head, he used his other senses.
He felt the air on his cheek. He listened to that air for any sounds that may
help him. He smelt the air…
He smelled the air!
Very faintly on a breeze coming from the west he could smell
smoke. Not a strong smell of smoke, but very faint. So faint that, had his
eyes been open, he may have missed it. The smoke was not acidic enough
to be coming from a campfire, instead it must be coming from a cooking
fire. But a cooking fire in the woods would be made from the same wood,
so it must be coming from someone’s stove. Coming from a stove just
warming, but had not yet had any food added. And if it is coming from
someone’s stove, it must be coming from someone’s house. So toward the
west, Hero ran again.
If the children were smart enough to lay a trail of pebbles, then the
children could have been smart enough to recognize the smoke as smoke
from a stove. If they had, and they were lost, they would have followed the
scent, just as Hero was doing now, in hopes of rescue. If they did not
recognize the smell, perhaps it could also be that they happened across
whoever is making the smoke by accident, giving just as much justification to
travel in the direction Hero was now sprinting.
He ran for probably five minutes as fast as he dared into the oldest
part of the forest. A part he had never before ventured into. As the smell of
smoke became stronger in his nostrils, Hero slowed to a trot. As he slowed,
he made a conscious effort to become acclimated with his environment.
The trees here were very old, hundreds if not thousands of years old. The
canopy above him was so thick he couldn’t see the blue sky beyond it. The
ground was covered with pine needles, and decaying trees had fallen long
ago. There was an occasional fern, or fungi growing from spots on the
ground around him, but no brush. If something came on him, he would
have no place to hide. If he got lost here, he may never find his way out.
And, from the abundance of mushrooms, no people from the city ever
ventured this far. That being said, who could be building this fire that had to
be coming from a stove in someone’s house?
As this question entered his mind, hero came to the edge of a
clearing. He waited in the shadows to gather his courage, for what he saw
confused him and brought a chill to his spine.
The clearing was an exact circle with an approximate diameter of a
hundred yards. From the lack of stumps and fallen trees, it would be a safe
guess that this clearing had been here for hundreds of years. Across the
clearing there was no vegetation other than grass flowing in the breeze that
had brought the smoke scent to Hero’s nose. The landscape was marred by
only two structures. The first, more common, structure was a well for
water. A simple circle made of brick, with a roof over the top to keep debris
from falling in. The second structure was far less common than the first.
The second structure was a house. But not just any house. Not a log
house, or a brick house, or even a mud adobe. No, this house was made of
something far more queer. This house was made of candy. At least, at first
glance, that is what Hero believed. When he looked harder, he soon
realized the house was not actually made of candy, but rather it was made
of wood shapes that resembled candy. Lollipops for the trim, shingles made
of wafers, walls made of gumdrops, a door made of licorice, and even the
glass on the windows looked like hard clear candies made of sugar. But, no,
it was all a façade, a fake, a rouse.
Hero felt a pang in his gut. The only reason to build a house like this
would be to trap hungry children lost in the woods. Deep down, Hero now
knew this was where the children must be, and when he thought of the
smell of the smoke, a stove with no food, his skin went to ash and he felt
sick in the pit of his stomach. The children are still alive, but they may not
be for much longer. Taking a deep breath, mustering all the courage he had
inside, Hero dashed across the clearing toward the house.
Once he reached the door, his mindset changed, this person could
be very dangerous. This situation is not a situation one must go barging
into. No, instead, stealth and rational thoughts would be the ideal tactic.
Rather than crashing into the door and barging in, Hero slowly inched the
door open and took in the visions the room had to offer.
The room was small, but full and very busy. The house was not a
house at all, but a one room cabin. There was an unkempt bed against the
opposite wall, next to which was a solid wood nightstand holding an oil
lamp. On the wall to the left there was a kitchen table with only one chair.
A lonely wooden chair, that if someone had been sitting in, it would have
given them a stupendous view of Hero dashing across the clearing. Luckily
for Hero, the chair stood empty. The right side of the room he could not
see. The right side of the room was where all the commotion was coming
from.
There was a girl’s voice, screaming something he could not make
out. There was a young boy’s voice which held fear, but his words were not
quite audible. Was he begging? But above both of these voices was an old
ladies voice, a voice that was feminine though it sounded like it belonged to
someone close to a hundred years old. Feminine, but something was
throwing it off, like it held too much phlegm. It was a voice that rasped,
wheezed, and cut your soul all in the same motion.
“It is time, boy… time for you to die.” said the rasping voice.
More muffled begging and pleading from the boy.
Wailing came from the girl, who was now begging as well.
“Resist all you need resisting,” the voice wheezed, “but my strength
is stronger than yours. Even your will to live is not as willful as my will to
eat!”
Using the drama on the other side of the room to his advantage,
Hero snuck through the opening he made in the doorway, and almost
gasped at the horror laid out before him.
The voice belonged to an old woman who looked to be older than
any Hero had ever seen. If she was not at least a hundred years old, she was
close. Her hair was wiry, and completely gray, even bald in some spots. Her
head seemed bigger than that of a normal human; if it wasn’t bigger it was
at least disproportionate to the size of her body. Accompanying her large
head was a hooked nose that extended nearly four inches from her face.
The hook of her nose was going down and to the right, ending with an
abrupt point. The woman’s eyes were dark, yet wild with rage, and focused
on the boy she held by the hair on his head. She was skinny, frail, and not
much larger than the boy she held, but her grip on his wrist was like an iron
clasp. She should not have been strong enough to hold the boy, but she
was. And even though one hand held him tightly by the wrist, the other
hand was busy pulling him by the blond locks on his head.
The boy, who was now kicking and screaming the best he knew how,
was slowly being dragged towards the open oven door. The oven was a
wood fed camp oven, the kind you would expect to find in a cabin in the
middle of the woods. The fire inside the stove was red with embers, and
emitting a heat Hero could feel across the small room.
Behind the woman and boy, closer to Hero, was a young girl reduced
to sobbing. Her hair was blonder than her brother’s, but probably because
she was younger by about two years. She was dirtier than her brother as
well, her dress was stained badly with mud, and her face was tear streaked
and dirty. Her brother, still feet from the oven, she had given up on. She
knew he was going to die, and she knew she was going to be next. Whether
it was today, tomorrow, or even next week, she knew she was going to be
next, and there was nothing she could do about it. Especially being as she
could not find a way to escape the large bird cage she was locked in, with
her wrists tethered to the bars.
With heaving sobs, the girls voice broke as she whispered, “I love
you, Hanz.”
“Love is not as lovely as a good eat that I need eating,” cackled the
woman.
Completely giving up on her brother, the girl turned away from the
scene in front of the stove, and towards Hero. First, she saw the front door
cracked open, and then she saw Hero already rushing at her with his knife
drawn, intent on cutting her ties.
The girl’s eyes went wide with fear.
Over the next ten seconds, many things happened:
Seeing him running at her, knife drawn, the girl screamed.
He saw the scream coming, but not in time, and with adrenaline
pumping lively in his system and forgetting he was attempting to be stealth
like, Hero yelled, “NO!”
Hearing a voice she did not recognize, the old woman released her
two fisted grasp on the boy and turned towards the other side of the room.
By the time the old woman turned, Hero already had the girl’s ties
cut and was removing her from the cage as quickly as he could manage.
Hanz, being released from the woman’s grip, and seeing that they
may be rescued yelled in their direction, “RUN GRETTA!” As he reached
desperately for anything he could use as a weapon.
The old woman seemed to hurl, though he didn’t see how, a burning
log from the fire in their direction while screaming, “Cook what I am cooking
be cooked yourself.”
At least that is what Hero thought she was going to yell, she didn’t
quite finish the entire phrase before Hanz smashed her over the head with a
very hot frying pan.
And just like that, it was over.
There was much hugging, kissing and thanking. Hero was trying to
rush the children out of the cabin, but they would have none of it. They had
to thank him, and give him their gratitude, and wanted to know how ever
did he find them? Caught up in the success he had finally been granted for
the first time at rescuing children from the parents who tried to lose them in
the forest, Hero had to start telling his story. He had just gotten to the part
where he ran out of stones to follow, and how clever that idea had been by
Hanz to leave the stones, when he saw a light green flash out of the corner
of his eye, and heard a crash.
The door slammed shut behind them.
“What thinks have you been thinking?” The old woman howled, “To
take what I’ve been taking? To keep what I’ve been keeping?!”
And this time, Hero saw what he missed the time before. This time,
he saw the woman did not pick up a log and throw at him, but the burning
log flew across the room nonetheless surrounded by a light green glow,
flying straight for his head. He ducked just in time to be hit with a rolling pin
flying from the other side of the room, hitting him in the stomach and
knocking the wind out of him.
“What I find is mine for finding! What I have is mine for having! You
do not take what I’ve been taking! You do not get what I’ve been getting! It
is my food for me to be eating, and the blood for me to be DRINKING!” Her
voice had slowly been rising with rage, burning logs and coals all surrounded
by a tint of green, flying across the room at every exclamation, and by the
time she reached the word ‘drinking’ she was at a solid boom. A sound that
should have been impossible to come from an old woman’s mouth, but Hero
couldn’t pay attention to her voice, he was more focused on the green hued
cabin items flying from every corner of the small building. “Four hundred
years I have been living. And no has ever dared what you be daring.”
Another burning log hurtled across the room and this time hit Hero in the
face, singeing him just below his left eye. “The children are my feast for my
feasting!” An untouched frying pan hurtled through the air at Hero. Hero
dodged the frying pan realizing every item “thrown” at him first had a light
green aura around it before it began speeding at his body. “Do you know
what I be in my being? I’m a witch full of bewitching!” With this
exclamation, another untouched item found itself screaming across the
room at Hero’s head, this time a large pot, which Hero easily dodged since
he saw the green light.
The children were slowly scooting backward, away from the flying
objects, away from Hero, and away from the witch that intended on eating
them. Hero, for the moment, had them out of harm’s way, but who was
going to save Hero? The thought barely flashed through his mind before he
saw his opportunity to act.
“AND NOW YOUR DEATH DESERVES DYING!” The Witch howled in
rage as three of the brightest flaming logs magically lifted from inside the
fire and flung themselves at Hero. With a quick roll to the left Hero grabbed
the frying pan that had just missed him moments ago, while dodging the
first log. His back now to the witch, still in the same flowing motion to the
left he slammed the air where the second log should be flying in accordance
to the green magic lights. The force of the contact with the log pushed the
skillet around in an arc into the third flying log, which he too volleyed back in
her direction. The force of both blows catapulted Hero across the kitchen
table and upside down against the opposite wall.
As he slid down the wall, he had just enough time to see both logs
hit the witch-- The first log hitting her in the chest and knocking her back
onto the open door of the oven. The second log hit her square in her
crooked nose and propelled her backwards into the open oven with enough
force to slam the oven door closed behind her.
 Hero continued to slide down the wall behind the table until his
head crashed into the floor. The force of the hit knocking him unconscious
just before the room was filled with the astringent smell, and the blood
curdling screams of the witch being cooked alive.
2- The Other Children

When Hero completed his story, Detective Glub waited a few

moments to make sure Hero was done talking, then he stood up and began
to pace. Obviously deep in thought, and Hero did not want to interrupt
those thoughts fearing that somehow his life might be determined by what
Detective Glub had to say next. Glub took his time in preparing what he was
going to say. And when he did finally speak, what he had to say caught Hero
off guard.
“What you have left out,” Glub remarked pointedly, “is what
happened to all of the other children.”
“The other children, Detective?” Hero was puzzled, “There were
only two. Hanz and Gretta.”
“Yes, there were only two this time.” Suddenly Hero knew where
Detective Glub was going with this, and he was afraid of the words to
follow. “This time, Hero, there were only two children. But what happened
to all the other children you claim to have been ‘looking for’ in the woods.
All of the other children missing from the last two years. By my count,
thirty-eight children are still unaccounted for. Hanz and Gretta Ehl would
have been numbers thirty-nine and forty. And I must say, Hero, without
their success in the woods against you, they would probably be missing still,
and we would have never found you out!”
“Found me out? Found me out! You think I harmed all those
children?”
“Did you not, Hero?”
“Yes! I mean, no! I mean, I would never hurt a child for any reason,
Glub! I save the children! I rescue them from what their parents have done
to them. Their parents get them lost in the woods on purpose and then they
come into town….”
“ENOUGH HERO!” Unexpectedly Glub cut him off in a yell. “If those
children were lost in the woods we would have found them. There would
have been many survivors, not just the two. If you were actually trying to
save all these children you claim to have been looking for, you would have
found more. No, Hero, you weren’t trying to save them, you were the one
who was trying to harm them.”
“Hanz and Gretta were the only ones I could save.”
“Wrong! Hanz and Gretta were the only ones strong enough and
smart enough to evade you and conquer you. Don’t you find it odd that the
only two children who survived the woods are the two that come back to
town, and with you knocked out? Don’t you think it’s curious that when we
are hunting for the missing children you are always hunting with us? And
isn’t it interesting how none of these children are ever found? No remains,
no tracks, no trails, nothing. You are the only difference, Hero. You are the
reason kids have been coming up missing, you know it, so why don’t you just
admit it so I can get on with my life and all the parents of the children can
have closure.”
“Admit it? Admit what? I didn’t do anything! Ask Hanz and Gretta,
they will tell you the exact same story that I’ve told you.”
“We did talk to the Ehl’s,” the Detective admitted. “We talked to the
parents who told us exactly what we expected. That they don’t know what
happened to their children, but they are glad their kids are back and that
you are behind bars. That you, Hero, have been around their plantation for
days. And they never expected you were the reason their children were
missing until we had you in custody. Some of the other parents are starting
to come forward and agree that you had been around their houses as well,
and you were acting suspicious.”
“The parents? No, talk to the children, they will tell you! Why
would the parents tell you anything? If they told you the truth they would
just be implicating themselves. You have to talk to the children. You must, I
promise, they will tell you!”
“What, some brainwashed story you put into the poor kids’ head? A
witch, Hero, really? Don’t you think you could have come up with
something more realistic? There is no such thing as Witch’s, there is no such
thing as any fairytale creature.” Glub’s patience was wearing thin, and at
the wrong time for Hero. “Besides, the parents don’t want the kids to talk to
us, they say young Hanz and Gretta have been through enough and they
don’t want them to have any more bad memories of this ordeal.”
“The house! The house in the woods…”
 “There is no house! Only a well where you say this house should be.
We have been there, Hero, we have back tracked the sled trying to find the
other missing children. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to find
anything. And now all you have for me is stories of witches and candy
houses.”
“But, I…”
“You are guilty, Hero. That is all there is to it. You are guilty of forty
counts of kidnapping and thirty-eight counts of murder. That is why you are
here, and that is why you have been arrested.” Hero’s jaw dropped. “You
will be tried, and you will be convicted. There is no evidence to support your
story. The penalty, obviously, will be death.”
To this, Hero didn’t say anything, there was nothing to say. His story
would not be believed by anyone. Glub was right, Hero would be put to
death. Detective Glub stood and started heading for the door. “I suggest,
son, that you get comfortable in here for the next few weeks while we await
your trial, because you won’t be going anywhere.”
The detective walked to the cell door, and opened it. Then, after a
short pause, he turned around and faced Hero in the darkness. “There is no
use trying to get out of this, Hero, I always get my man.”
With a large slam, the iron door shut behind Detective Frank Glub,
and Hero was plunged back into darkness.
3- An Eccentric Visitor

The days and the nights in the dungeon were completely the same.
There was no way to tell the difference because the only opening to the
hold was a slit under the door, which held two hinges that could be opened
from the outside. This was how Hero received his meals. However, even
receiving his meals he did not know if it was day or night because the dark
and damp hallways beyond were lit by flickers from a torch, making it
completely impossible to differentiate between the two.
Hero could only keep track of how slow time went by the amount of
meals he was eating. As far as he could tell, he was only served twice per
day. The first meal was usually some sort of slop he considered oatmeal,
and the second meal was about the same, only it also contained a vegetable
of some sort, usually a carrot.
Though he tried to avoid eating at first, as a sign of protest, the
hunger built and he could not resist devouring the slop they brought him.
After all, even the worst tasting grub ended up tasting like paradise when he
was only fed just enough to keep his body functioning.
He was also going to attempt to keep his body strong by doing push-
ups, sit-ups, hand stands and the like. This too, though, only lasted the first
few days. It was too easy to become exhausted, and his body would not
recover and build strength the way it needed to when he was not being fed
enough. Hero tried to keep himself strong, but he knew if he were in this
hole for long, his muscle strength would surely dwindle.
Time passed slowly, and Hero had nothing to do. His days were not
spent in trying to keep himself entertained, but spent in trying to figure out
exactly what he did wrong. Almost as if the time he was spending in prison
was the way it was supposed to be: reflecting on what he had done wrong
so he would not do it again. The problem with this scenario was Hero could
not figure out exactly what he had done wrong. Other than remaining
conscious during his altercation with the witch, Hero could not come up with
any other way the scenario could have been different.
Then, when he thought about it more, even had he stayed
conscious, he probably would still have been arrested. Hero was befuddled.
Every scenario he played over in his head ended with him being arrested by
the royal government. Parents of missing children were looking for a
scapegoat. Unfortunately, the parents, having committed the crimes
themselves, would blame anyone other than themselves simply to pass the
blame. Especially a person who seemed to have opportunity, though there
was no motive.
Motive, though, did not seem to matter in Hero’s case. There was
no motive for him to have committed these crimes, but the opportunity was
surely there. And then here he comes out of the woods being “saved” by
the Ehl children, and what is the first thing he does? Open his big mouth like
a buffoon, spouting off stories about a wicked witch living in a house of
candy which just so happened to be burned down by him volleying a flying
log into the fore mentioned witch catapulting her backwards into her cook
stove.
Had Hero not been there, he would not have believed the story
himself. Now that he had spent this much time in jail to think it over, he was
starting to doubt his own sanity in the matter of Hanz Ehl, Gretta Ehl, and
The Witch. This conclusion was very disconcerting for Hero, as his sanity
was the one thing he had left.
Thirty-six days had passed in this dank, damp hole. At least, that was
the best number Hero could come up with. He assumed he had been
knocked out for at least two, if not three days, even though there was only
one meal waiting for him when he awoke. After that meal, he had eaten
sixty-six more meals, which were thirty-three identical sets of two. If he
were down here much longer his sanity would surely be the next thing he
would lose.
By the logic of his math, day thirty-seven would be beginning at this
very instant. But something different happened on this thirty-seventh day.
As the guard opened the small hatch door to slide in his oatmeal, he said
something:
“You better clean yourself up, Hero, you are going to have a visitor
today.”
“A visitor? Who?” Hero’s voice rasped in his throat, and for a
second he almost scared himself thinking the witch was back. Then,
realizing it was himself, he remembered he hadn’t talked in over a month.
His throat was not used to doing more than slurping down the porridge and
occasional vegetable slid his way.
“Someone as crazy as you!” The guard laughed to him as he
slammed the tiny door shut and slid the latch into place.
Hero thought on this strange visitor for quite a while. During all the
thinking he did not eat, and his breakfast was nearly forgotten. For the life
of him, he could not figure out who his visitor was going to be. Surely the
guard would not say Detective Glub was as crazy as him. By the same token,
the Ehl children, or the Ehl parents themselves would not be paying him a
visit either. It did not take long for Hero’s curiosity to be answered.
For the first time since his visit from Detective Glub, the door to
Hero’s cell was completely opened. Initially, Hero was taken aback by the
brightness of the light that flooded in. Even though the light was just from a
few lit torches on the outside of his cell broadcasting dimly against the
dungeon walls, they were bright enough to make him squint his eyes. By the
time his eyes had adjusted, the strange man was already inside his cell,
leaning against the wall, the cell door being shut behind him.
Hero’s first impression of the man was “eccentric.” This stranger
had a very narrow face punctuated by a strawberry blonde goatee. His nose
was sharp and held a pair of rectangular spectacles that looked like they
would fall to the floor if he didn’t occasionally push them back up. His ears
were pointy and on the top of each point was a small tuft of white hair.
Other than the hair on the tips of his ears, the rest of his hair was short and
a reddish orange in color. To finish his face was the rise in the bones under
his eyebrows, which pushed his eyebrows up higher on his forehead. The
stranger had a familiar look, as if Hero could place him somewhere. And
though there was something not quite right about his face, Hero felt it was a
face he could trust. And as he sat trying to conjure up where he’d seen him
before, it occurred to Hero he wasn’t the only one doing the summing up.
Hero recognized the stranger was taking him in just as Hero was taking in
the stranger.
“Tell me your story, Hero. The story of the children.”
“Why, so you too can mock me?” Since Glub’s visit, Hero had been
constantly mocked by the guards at his door.
“No, because I may be your only chance.”
Regretfully, Hero took in a deep breath and began to tell the
stranger all the details about his rescue in the middle of the woods. Even
though he felt like he should not be completely forthcoming, there were
very few unimportant details he left out.
“That’s the whole story?” the stranger asked, looking deep into
Hero’s blue eyes.
“That’s everything.”
“If that is everything, then you, sir, are a liar.” The stranger stood up
and started back toward the door.
“A liar? You just came here to call me names and leave?”
“I didn’t expect you to be lying,” the man now spoke to the guard,
“Open the door, we are done here.”
“And what makes you think I am lying?” Hero yelled at him.
“If you have told me everything, then you are just telling me rumors
and fairytales. There is a very important detail you are leaving out that
would make the magic real. This fine detail is always left out of make
believe stories because only people who have actually seen it, know about
it,” the man spoke this at Hero rather than to him. “Guard! Open the door.”
Suddenly it donned on Hero what the man was talking about and he
tried to sputter it out as quickly as he could before the guard opened the
door and the stranger was gone.
“Green!” Hero shouted.
As if he had spoken the answers to the universe, the stranger
stopped, and turned back around facing Hero full on.
“Excuse me?” the stranger murmured.
“Green,” Hero repeated, “there was a light around the objects she
cast spells on, the light was green.”
The stranger walked back over to lean on the wall, looking at Hero as
if trying to determine whether or not he was telling the truth. Finally, and
quietly, the stranger spoke.
“Hero, I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?”
“I would like to take you into my employment,” the stranger said in a
bleating voice.
“And if I refuse?” Hero challenged, “After all, you did just call me a
liar, and now you suddenly change your mind and think I’m speaking the
truth.”
“I don’t think you have much room to refuse.”
 “What’s in this proposition for me?”
“If you accept, your permanent freedom from this dripping tomb,”
came the matter of fact reply.
“But what if I do refuse?”
“Certain death from our system of so called justice.”
“It sounds like you leave me no choice, Stranger.”
“As I said, you don’t have much room to refuse me. But I don’t want
you to expect this job to be easy,” the stranger told him, “this is a job no one
has ever been able to accomplish. But we will discuss this more at my
house.” He turned and spoke to the guard, “The arrangements have been
made, please prepare the prisoner to be transported to my home.”
“Just like that?” Hero asked. “Just like that and you are freeing me?”
“The terms have not yet been set, young Hero.”
“Terms?”
“The terms and conditions of your employment. We will discuss the
terms and then we will decide whether or not you will be free. Only then,
and not until then, will you finally be released from imprisonment.”
“But we are leaving.”
“You do not expect me to negotiate in this cursed filth you now call
your home, do you? No. We will discuss the matter at my house. If you
accept, you are free. If you decline, my guard friend here will be escorting
you back so you can meet your scheduled date with the executioner.”
“Sir, I feel like I should be thanking you… but I don’t even know your
name.”
“My name?” The stranger bleated, “My name, is Octavo Cabra.”
4- Blind Observations

The beginning of Hero’s journey out of his dungeon holding cell was
a dark one. He was told that if he were not first blind-folded the brightness
of daylight would affect his eyes to such a degree that he would not be able
to see for several days. So, he wore the suggested blindfold out of the
dungeon, up the four flights of stone stairs, through a variety of corridors
and rooms hidden from his sight, through a loud echoing hall, down a
shorter set of stairs (where at this point in time he could feel the sun on his
face), and across a stone courtyard.
It was at this point in time he was, rather harshly, shoved into an
awaiting carriage, which sat idly for just a few moments, before it was off at
a slow trot. The carriage ventured at this slow trot, through what Hero
assumed were the city’s streets, before turning North (Hero assumed by the
position of the morning sun now on his right cheek). At this time, the
carriage went from a slow trot into a medium gallop from the two horses
pulling it.
Hero let his nose and ears do the seeing for him. There were three
people in the carriage with him. The driver, who smelled like tobacco, not
smoking tobacco but chewing tobacco. The kind that left the smell of
rotting plants wherever the chewer would spit. The second person never
said a word the entire journey, but Hero knew she was there. Her scent was
pungent, and was the only one of the bunch that smelled like soap. The
third, of course, was Octavo Cabra, he didn’t say much on this journey
either, except he didn’t want to talk about Hero’s employment until they
were safe within the confines of his compound. Octavo, strangely, smelled
like fresh green hay.
The journey north lasted about half of an hour. A time Hero spent
not only trying to collect information on where he was being taken, but also
a time in which he enjoyed his freedom. He enjoyed the carriage ride, and
the sun that stayed on his face for all but an instant as the carriage slowed
and made a westward turn before continuing on its journey north.
They crossed a wooden bridge, the horses feet clattered differently
here than on the dirt road. After the bridge they followed a slow moving
stream, one Hero assumed must have fish because he heard the plop of a
cork a few times from an angler’s cast into the water. But he knew it was
slow moving because he rarely heard the gurgle of the water.
Once the stream turned away from the road they began passing
through fruit orchards. Apples, Hero was sure of it, he could smell the sweet
smell of ripe apples, and the pungent smell of the few rotting ones that had
fallen to the ground. It was fall, and the apples were starting to ripen faster
than the people in the nearby areas could eat them, assuming this wasn’t a
private orchard.
The smell of the apples passed and gave way to the buzzing of bees.
So many bees, that there must be some hives around close by. But there
were no smells of flowers or other fruit, which left Hero a little confused on
what the bees were meant to be pollinating, and what kind of honey they
were making.
Finally, with a few last sudden turns, the carriage came to a stop.
Again, rather rudely, Hero was shoved out of the carriage and onto
the cobblestone walkway. He was taken by the elbow and led through a
courtyard with smells of flowers and then into a house (at least Hero
assumed it was a house because the sun no longer shown on his face,
something he immediately missed). Once inside, the procession came to a
stop, and seats were taken at various points around him in the room.
“May I remove my blindfold, now that we are inside?”
“I would request you leave it on for a minute, young Hero,”
answered Octavo. “I have a few questions for you. First, I want you to tell
me what you know about me.”
“There is nothing I know about you Octavo, not even anything I’ve
heard about you. But I can tell you what I assume…”
“Please, continue.”
“You are a proud and rich man. Rich, because you were able to get
me out of the royal prison. Proud, because you assume I will help you, and
you brought me all the way to your house in order to do so. You are
confident, but also afraid. You are wise, but cannot accomplish your goal.
And you are all of the above, yet you have no wife.”
“Again, please continue.”
“Your confidence stems from you knowing I am the person you seek
to help you with your dilemma, this job that has never been accomplished.
Never accomplished but you bring me to your house before we set your
‘terms’. Afraid because you have a bodyguard. I know you have no wife
because your bodyguard is a woman. Generally speaking a wife would not
let a man have a female bodyguard. I know she is here and she sits to my
left. I know she is your bodyguard because she did not speak to you the
entire time on our journey here, yet she is the one that assisted me in and
out of your carriage.
“Further, you live not far from the town of Broken Straw, I could tell
by the westward turn we made before crossing the bridge. I know this, too,
because we traveled North from the city. The stream outside your town is
not a stream at all, but an aqua duct to support the crops. The first crops
are the orchards of apples, apples that have not been harvested yet this
year, though they are ripe for the harvesting. The second crop is a grass of
some sort.
“You are not the mayor, because you live too far out of town, but
you are an important figurehead in this community to be in charge of the
second crop, as your plantation sits right in the center of it. But something
tells me your town’s people are afraid to be in the crops, as if there is some
danger, because many of them were fishing on a day they should have been
working.
“Which leads me to believe this job you have for me does not only
affect you, but also affects your town. And if I do not complete this job, not
only you, but the lively hood of your entire town may be in jeopardy.
“Now, Mr. Cabra,” Hero concluded, “May I remove my blindfold?”
5- A History Lesson

“To tell you why I need your help, Hero, I must tell you two stories,”
Octavo lamented. “The first story is my story, the story of my family’s
history. The second story is about the town of Broken Straw, and why I
came to live here, and the problem they are having… the problem I cannot
solve, which is your job.”
“Believe me Octavo, I have all the time in the world… but can’t you
just tell me what you want me to do, so we can get on with this?” Hero
grew impatient. Coming to this house miles away was no problem, sitting
blindfolded for the journey was no problem either, listening to an old man
tell stories when actions could be taken? That was another issue all
together.
“Hero, you must listen so you fully understand the magnitude of my
conundrum.” Octavo said in a bleat, and again Hero found him looking
familiar. Hero associated the familiarity with a farm he had once visited,
though he couldn’t place why.
“Ok… tell me your story.”
“It all began back when I was a young boy, about the age of twelve. .
.”

*****

I was the youngest of eight children where I grew up just a few hours
North of here. This was a place that didn’t have a name, a farm without
basking in even a semi-proud namesake. My father was a strong man, an
axe man, who worked in the woods every day. He cut down enough trees
that we were able to survive off the money from them without even farming
our land. But we did farm our land because it was cheaper to get food that
way, gave us kids something to do, and taught us how to be strong and work
together.
My mother was a goat woman. No, not a goat of a woman, but
literally a goat woman. You see, I am a half man and half goat. From my
father’s Latin background is how I got my name, Octavo Cabra means Eighth
Goat in Spanish. But back to my mother. . . My mother was a proud old
goat who insisted on doing all of her chores on her own. This included
washing our clothes, putting supper on the table, and going into town to do
the grocery shopping.
It was on one of these grocery shopping days that an absolute
disaster happened. Our father was out in the woods cutting down trees,
and our mother decided it was time for her to go to the store to buy
supplies. All of us eight children were left at home by ourselves.
Our mother told us, as she did every time she left us by ourselves,
“Now all of you little cabra’s stay put inside the house. Remember, I have a
key to get back in, and I don’t want you going out by yourselves. The world
is a dangerous place. Don’t open the door for anyone!”
Even though she told us the same warning every single time she left,
we were teenagers, we never really listened to what she said. We would
stand by the kitchen window and watch as she walked along the path
leading her into town, and as soon as she was out of sight, we would open
the door and run and play in the yard.
We did this every time she went into town, and every time we were
all safely locked back inside the house by the time she got home. She never
knew any different and we had so much fun playing in the yard, all of us
kids, like we never got to play when she was home.
But this day was different. This day there was something watching
us from the outskirts of the woods, waiting for us to be alone. This time,
everything was going to fall apart, and nothing was going to be the same
again.
Once our mother was gone and out of sight on her way to town, we
ran out of the doors frolicking and playing. We were not outside for long
when we heard a shout from just inside the tree line.
“Oh please come and help me,” the voice said, “I have fallen and
hurt myself. I cannot get up. . . Oh, I must have broken a leg.”
Primero and Segundo (first and second if you don’t know Spanish,
Hero) heard the yells for help, and since they were the oldest said they
would go investigate. We didn’t think anything of the possible danger,
because this poor soul needed help and had hurt themselves in the woods.
They were not gone for long before we heard a horrible scream. It
was not a scream of fear, but a scream of a goat in utmost terror. Instantly
we something was wrong, so we all ran back into the house, and shut the
door behind us. Primero and Segundo never came.
Before long, we had all relaxed and told ourselves that we had just
imagined things, or that Primero and Segundo were just playing tricks on us.
We relaxed, but we still didn’t go outside. A new voice was heard calling to
us from outside.
“Oh young goaties, I am a Goat Scout master, and I am taking sign-
ups for Goat Scouts. If you want to sign up, now is your only opportunity. .
.”
This was too good to be true for Tercera (that’s Third, Hero, try to
keep up), you see, she has always wanted to be a goat scout. So, before we
could stop her, she was running out the front door, and all we heard was a
terrible scream of terror coming from her, and laughter coming from the
voice who had mentioned Goat Scouts.
The rest of us promised each other that no matter what, we would
not be tricked. We must do as Mother had told us, and stay inside our
house where it was safe. We had plenty of hay and water, so there was no
reason for us to go anywhere.
The day passed without us hearing anything from the strange voices
again, and night began to fall. Right at dusk, we ran into another dilemma,
Cuarto and Quinto (seriously, Hero? Fourth and Fifth. Do you not yet see
the pattern of how we were named?) both had to use the bathroom. They
promised the rest of us everything was going to be ok. We had not heard
the voice in hours, so it surely must be gone. And they would go in pairs and
watch each other’s backs so nothing would happen because they would be
able to see in all directions.
We made them promise not to travel too far from the house. To
stay close enough that we would know they were ok. We all agreed, and
opened the door for Cuarto and Quinto to venture out. They were gone for
only a few seconds when we heard the screams of terror coming from their
throats. Cuarto and Quinto both fell victim to the voice calling out from the
night.
It was hard for the three of us left to fall asleep that night, but
somehow, late in the night, we all managed.
Mother’s trip to the store was a long one, and she did make these
long trips occasionally when there were a lot of supplies we needed. We
knew she would be coming back the next day. But what would we tell her
about the disasters that had struck down upon us? What would we do to be
able to move on with our lives? To these we had no answers, but we would
try our best to explain to her what we were doing outside the house when
she was away.
It wasn’t long after we devised a story to tell her, that we heard her
outside.
“Oh goaties… could you please come help mommy with all these
groceries?”
Before I could yell to them it was a trick, and mother always has a
key, Sexto and Septima (honestly, Hero, if you can’t figure it out, I’m not
helping you) ran out the door to greet her and tell her the stories of what
happened to all the other goats. I put my hands over my ears but I could still
hear the terrifying screams of my last two siblings falling prey to whatever
was out there waiting for us.
Through the rest of the morning there were more taunts at me, and
more tricks all trying to get me to come out of the locked up house. But I
didn’t respond, and I didn’t move. I knew I had to try to stay in the house
until my mother got home.
I heard the voice giving up on me, saying there must not be any
goats left in the house. I peaked out the window and saw the shadow
slipping away into the woods. As I looked out the window, though, I saw my
mother coming around the far bend, she was on her way home.
Just as she got close enough to see the carnage in the front yard, I
heard her scream, “Oh NO! My little Goaties!! My poor little goaties. . .”
And as she screamed this, she started to run for the house through the
remains of goat body parts and blood littering our front yard.
But as she ran towards our house, I saw the shadow had heard her,
and the shadow was moving too! The shadow was coming closer, and
closing in on her, and my mother didn’t know it was there. I had to yell, I
had to shout, I had to scream to warn her it was coming. . . but I didn’t.
The shadow came out of the trees, and I saw with my own eyes, it
was a wolf. A huge wolf with giant fangs dripping goat blood, sprinting
across our lawn, and then launching itself into the air at my mother.
I saw the scene unfold in slow motion. . . My mother turned as the
wolf was in midair. The wolf snarled and opened his mouth. My mother
opened her mouth as well and began emitting a horrendous goat terror yell.
But she did not get out more than a short bleat when the wolf struck her in
the middle of her chest knocking her to the ground. And then. . . and then. .
. he ate her, swallowing her in huge gulps, not even bothering to chew.
It was horrible, I couldn’t watch, yet I didn’t dare look away. I
watched the whole thing, without taking my eyes away from the window.
After this Big-Bad Wolf ate my mother, he let out a belch, and trotted
happily. . . happily! . . into the woods.
I slunk away from the window, terrified by the horrors I had just
witnessed. I wanted to get away, but there was nowhere for me to go, so I
hid under the sink, and waited for my father to get home. But my father
never came. The wolf had tricked him in the woods, and eaten him as well.
The wolf, in one day, devoured my entire family.
I hid under the sink for four days until someone from the town came
looking for us, and found me there still too afraid to move.

*****

Octavo, his first story finished, looked up at Hero, tears streaming

down his face. Any protests Hero had conjured up about the believability of
this story quickly washed away in the tears dripping off of Octavo’s sharp
nose. And as Hero looked at him, he realized Octavo did look like a goat,
and that is where he recognized him from. He recognized him from every
goat he had ever seen in any barnyard across the country.
“I know,” spoke Octavo, “That my story is very hard to believe. But I
need you to believe it, and understand it.”
Hero sat in silence.
“I suppose you think I am only out for revenge.”
“If you are, then why did you wait so long?”
“Don’t you think I have tried to avenge my family’s death, Hero?”
Octavo’s voice was rising, but he quickly got it back under control. “I told
you from the start, young Hero, this job has been attempted, but never
accomplished. You are not the first to listen to these stories.”
Hero’s mounting questions were building, “A half man and half
goat? A Wolf that talks? And talks in a language we can understand? You
have to admit, this is all a little farfetched.”
 “Just over a month ago, you would not have believed in a witch!”
Octavo’s quick rebuttal surprised Hero. “These creatures are out there,
Hero.”
“I have been in the woods my whole life, and never seen a wolf that
could talk.”
“So just because young Hero hasn’t seen it, means it doesn’t exist?
Again, you would not have believed in a witch up to a month ago. There are
many creatures out there that would surprise you, some you have probably
never heard of or heard described. A talking wolf should be the most
believable. If a talking wolf doesn’t want to be found out, he just doesn’t
talk to you!” Hero had to admit Octavo’s logic was sound, but that didn’t
mean these fairytale creatures existed. So, quickly, he attempted changing
the subject.
“You said there were two stories you had to tell me, Octavo. You’ve
told me your history,” prompted Hero, “now what of this town? You mean
to tell me everyone in Broken Straw is afraid of this Big-Bad Wolf?”
“Hero. . . You don’t know the half of it.”

*****

It was nearly twenty years later that I settled on this plot of land. At
that time, it wasn’t the Broken Straw you know now, it was only an empty
valley with a river running through the middle. I had money, from my
father, who had a trust fund set aside for me. Well, he actually had the trust
fund set aside for all of us young goats, but since I was the only survivor, it
became mine.
I didn’t have a lot of money, but enough to hire a crew to build this
house. I knew enough about farming to tell me the soil from all of history’s
floods would create fertile land. I also knew if I could convince more people
to settle here, I would be able to convince them to build a dam. That way,
we would be able to control the flow of water throughout the year, and we
wouldn’t have to worry about floods.
It only took about a year and people began to settle alongside me.
I had enough money left over to hire a crew to begin working on the
dam.
“Goatsbeard Dam?”
 “Hero, don’t interrupt me.”
Like I was saying, I had enough money to hire a crew to start building
a dam, and that is all it took for settlers to begin coming in. Settlers also
recognized the ground would be workable and the crops it would yield
would be amazing.
At the beginning there were just three settlers wanting to build here,
and each of them were going to build their houses from what they could
find from the land. At that time there were not a lot of resources to use,
and it would be a long journey to have to find something, so they all found
materials in the flood plains to build their houses.
The first settler chopped the high growing reeds along the river bed,
and let them dry in the sun, making a sort of straw. He was very lazy, and
spent most of his days wallowing in the mud, fishing, and sleeping. It was
his laziness that eventually done him in.
The second settler was lazy as well, but slightly less lazy than the
first. He decided to walk the banks of the river and look for sticks that had
washed onto the banks. It took a considerably longer amount of time than
the young man who was building his house out of straw, but still not too
long. As I said, he was also very lazy.
The third settler was not only a hard worker, but he was smart. He
soon came to realize that if he mixed a few stones with the mud lining the
river bank, and then let it dry hard together, he would make a very good
adobe material. (Bricks, Hero, bricks!) This process took a lot longer than
the first two, but it was his hard work and dedication that eventually saved
his life.
Not long after all three of the houses were built, there was a calm
night, the stars were out and the moon was shining bright. This brightness
allowed me to see everything happening in the river valley below. Looking
back on it now, I wish I hadn’t watched, but this is what I saw:
There was a dark creature slinking its way among the shadows
towards the settler’s houses. I instantly recognized it as the Big-Bad Wolf.
But there was no helping the settlers below, there would not be enough
time to warn them, and even if I could’ve, I would have given myself away;
and from my first story, you know wolves like the taste of goat meat.
The wolf came to the first house and knocked on the door. There
was no answer, and I know the settler inside was sure to have looked out
the window and seen the wolf. The door, held fast, and the wolf stayed on
the outside.
Suddenly, the wolf huffed and let out a great howl! The howl was so
tremendous the straw began to shudder, and the house made of straw fell
to the ground, leaving the settler standing amongst a pile of rubble.
Without haste, the wolf pounced on the settler and swallowed him
whole.
On to the second house the wolf went, this time knowing exactly
what to do in order to knock the house down. The wolf huffed and let out a
great howl for a second time, knocking the house of sticks into a pile of
tinder. The second settler was left standing in the center of what was his
living room. The wolf took no wasted movement in snatching him, and
swallowing him whole as well.
I knew what was going to happen, and couldn’t bare to watch any
longer. I heard the wolf huff in a gasp of air, and then the third ear splitting
howl of the night. But I did not hear any crumbling bricks. By the time the
fourth howl came, I had run to the window to see what was going on. The
wolf was beginning his fifth howl and the house of adobe still stood.
The rest of the night was filled with howls, but eventually the wolf
gave up and slunk back into the forest, leaving the third building still
standing, and the settler very much alive on the inside of his house.

*****

This time when the story was over, Octavo calmly sat waiting for
Hero’s response. No tears, and very little emotion came from Octavo on this
story, the first clearly being more taxing on him. Hero waited a few
moments to make sure Octavo was done, and then he spoke.
“I think I’ve heard this story before, only when I heard it, the settlers
were pigs. And they told the wolf something about ‘not by hair on their
chin’ would they let him in their house. I think my aunt told it to me when I
was little.”
“Talking pigs? Are you kidding me, Hero?” Octavo laughed, “And
you were giving me a hard time about the talking wolf. Pigs can’t talk Hero,
don’t be silly. The pig twist was just put on the story years ago as a way to
not scare children. Along with the moral of working hard and bleat, bleat,
bleat. No young kid would ever want to hear the story about how two men
got eaten right out of the middle of their house by a wolf who could knock
down buildings with a single howl.”
“Right. . .” Hero tried to regain composure, “So you’ve told me how
the town of Broken Straw got its name many years ago. And also that this
Big-Bad Wolf of yours has a tremendous set of lungs. But you haven’t told
me what these ancient history lessons have to do with bringing me here
now.”
“Never assume you know the whole story, Hero.” Octavo spat in
disgust, “I bring you here because the problem is not ancient history. The
problem torments our town to this day, and it must be dealt with!”
6- Negotiations

“So this wolf of yours is still on the hunt today? Terrorizing the
citizens of Broken Straw,” Hero summed up, “But do we know why?”
“The why, we do not know,” Octavo replied. “We do know the who,
the where, the what and the when. The when is all of the time. It just
started with the three settlers I just told you about. The story spread and
then all of the future settlers began building their houses out of the same
adobe type bricks the third settler built his house out of.” Hero quickly
looked around and realized Octavo’s house was built out of these bricks as
well. Octavo was still talking, “. . . in taking a lot of the sticky mud out of the
river banks to build these houses, we exposed more rock, and the rock in the
river bed made the water run deeper and slower, which created a great
place for fish to live. Now, Broken Straw is not only a farming, but also a
fishing community and we continue to grow in size.”
“And the wolf attacks?”
“The wolf attacks steadily rose in number, as well,” Octavo
lamented. “What I can tell you is the wolf attacks will very rarely happen in
the same place twice. They are always a surprise. Lately, the attacks have
gotten worse, and I fear for our town. The townspeople will no longer work
in the orchards and fields because there are too many hiding places for a
wolf. Therefore, they all go to fishing, and now our streams are being over
fished and there is no market for the number of fish we are catching.”
“So this wolf terrorized you when you were a child,” Hero began,
“Terrorized your town when you were a young man, and then continued to
terrorize your town as you became a senior.”
“That is correct, and I only just moved here twenty years ago.”
“Making you the oldest goat I have ever met.”
“My age has nothing to do with this,” Octavo said defensively, “But if
you must know, that only makes me fifty-two.”
“You don’t look a day over ninety,” Hero said under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I hate to say it, Octavo,” Hero said instead, “but it seems to me like
the common theme with all of these stories, is you.”
 “I have thought of that many nights, Hero. But if that is the case, we
still need to catch the wolf, and figure out why. If it is because of me, then
what of it? And if it is for some other reason, we need to figure that out
too.”
“Anyway, this is all a very well put together, and a very sad, story,”
Hero said. He was beginning to grow impatient with it all, and wanted to get
on with it. Verbally jousting with the old goat just wasn’t keeping him
entertained any longer. “You keep saying how ‘we’ need to do something
about it, Octavo, but what is in it for me?”
“Your freedom, of course.”
Hero had forgotten just hours ago he was inside a cell in the palace
dungeon, being held prisoner. Instantly he was embarrassed, but wanted to
try and cover his slip at the same time, “Besides my freedom, I mean? What
is the point in me doing this job for you and your city?”
“Not only will you be granted a pardon for your previous crimes
while you are in my employment, but you will also be given a healthy sum, a
place to live, and whatever supplies you may need to continue on your
journey.”
“What do you mean ‘while I am in your employment’?” Hero asked.
“Obviously you do not expect me to grant you this pardon and then
have you run off on me. So, while you are in my employment you will be
granted a pardon. If you leave my employment, we will renegotiate your
freedom then, depending on the means of your dismissal. I see only three
possible outcomes: one, you succeed. Two, you give up and go back to your
death row stay in prison. Or three, and most likely, the wolf kills you.”
“And what makes you believe I have the skills to hunt this wolf?”
Hero asked, trying to ignore the very blatant third option.
“You killed a candy witch.”
“That was an accident, Octavo. The story I told was true and I left
nothing out. It was a complete accident in me defending myself that I was
able to kill the witch.” Hero told him, “and then if the Ehl children hadn’t
saved my life from the burning down house, I would have been the next one
to be burned alive.”
“Accident or not,” persisted Octavo, “You killed her nonetheless.
That is a very rare accomplishment, and enough evidence for me.”
“I suppose,” Hero sighed.
 “Your suppositions will not be enough to win against the wolf, Hero.
You will need every little trick you can manage to beat it. Your strength,
your persistence, your dedication, your observation skills, and your quick
mind. That should be enough to convince you that you have what it takes to
face the wolf, it is enough for me.”
“But where do I begin, how do I find it?”
“Finding the wolf you will have to discover on your own,” stated
Octavo, “But to begin, I find it is always best to begin with what you know,
and go from there.”
“So let me make sure I have all of this straight. You have the power
to, and you are going to, grant me a pardon from my supposed previous
crimes,” Hero ticked the items off on his fingers, “Pay me a salary while I am
employed. Provide me with the tools I need. Provide me with the food I
need. Give me the time I need, and any background information I may
need. And all you want me to do is. . .”
Octavo finished the sentence for him“. . .kill the Big-Bad Wolf.”

*****

Captain stared at the man with bewilderment.

“You mean to tell me there is another hunter?”
“Yes, his name is Hero,” said the man in the black hooded cape. “He
is a very intelligent and fast thinking man. In fact, he is very strong minded,
and resourceful too. He may be the best hunter hired thus far. At least, he
has the potential to be the best hunter that has been hired. Either way, you
need to be careful he does not find you out.”
“This changes everything,” Captain said defiantly, “The plan will not
work now with another hunter. We had to do away with the other hunter’s
in order to get this far into the plan. We need to have a group meeting and
discuss what needs to be changed.”
“No!” The black caped man countered sharply. “Everything will
continue as planned and we will not change anything. The next step in the
plan takes place today, it will be the perfect opportunity.”
“But the new hunter. . ?”
“Will make it all the more convincing.”
“And if he figures it out too soon?”
 “Then you will dispose of him just as you disposed of the last
hunters.”
“You said yourself, Boss, he is the best hunter ever hired,” Captain
knew he was arguing a losing battle, “I fear for the safety of my crew. With
this man walking the streets of Broken Straw as we speak, the plan will not
be as cut and dry as you make it. We need to take extra precautions.”
“Then take those precautions, Captain, and finish today’s job.”
“With extra precautions comes extra expense,” Captain took a deep
breath. Negotiating with the black caped man never was easy, and very
rarely went as planned, but he still wanted to try. Extra income was extra
income, and right now, he and his crew needed the extra assets very badly.
“The price goes up twenty percent.”
“Ha!” The black caped man didn’t even flinch. He laughed at the
suggestion of an increased price when he himself knew the increased
danger. “No. No, the price remains the same. And if you mess this simple
job up, not only will you not get paid, but I will expose you and your crew.
Turning you in to the first authorities I find.”
“That. . . That is blackmail.” Captain stammered.
“I really don’t think you are in a place to negotiate with me.” The
black caped man said very confidently. “Now, quit your dawdling and finish
this job.”
Captain turned, and started on his way toward Broken Straw.
“Oh, and Captain,” the man said to his back, “there has been a slight
change of procedure. Instead of capturing her and bringing her to me, I
want you to get the answers out of her for me.”
Captain kept walking, the man rarely kept to the original plan,
especially after the prices had already been set. His shoulders did slump a
little, if he was going to get answers from the woman, he was going to have
to torture her. Captain was not a fan of torture, but he knew what needed
to be done.
“And after you get the answers,” the man finished, “I want her
dead.”
7- Starting Out

After a brief conversation about financial specifics, Hero was on his

way into Broken Straw to see what information he could gather. He didn’t
have a lot of faith in being able to take people’s accounts as fact, but at least
it would be a place for him to start.
Entering the town on foot (Octavo had not offered a ride back into
the town) Hero immediately noticed all the buildings were made out of the
adobe type material Octavo had mentioned in his story. He also noticed all
the first floor windows had bars across them. Even in the daylight, not a lot
of people were moving about the streets. In fact, the streets were filled
with dust, and not much more.
The first thing he needed to do before starting on his quest would be
to gather supplies. Octavo had told him about a supply shop that was the
“best in Broken Straw,” Hero figured it was more like “the only one in
Broken Straw,” but he sought out the place anyway.
Fontane Supply was easy enough to find in the small town, but not
very crowded for being the only supply store. Actually, Hero realized, he
was the only person in the store other than the clerk. She was a young lady
with long black hair and bright green eyes. Her cheeks were healthy, but not
healthy in the fat way parents used to describe their overweight children,
healthy in the way that makes you notice she may have dimples if you could
get her to smile.
“Hi, welcome to Fontane Supply,” she said, “My name is Maggie if
you need any help.”
“I’m starting on a wo. . . hunting trip, Maggie,” Hero said, catching
himself before he blurted out he was supposed to be hunting wolves. He
wasn’t quite sure how the villagers would take his quest.
“Ok, so you are going to need a bow,” Maggie started to drift toward
the section of the store the bows were located, while not taking her eyes off
Hero.
“Actually, I’m more interested in knives,” Hero said. He didn’t want
her to know, but he was embarrassed to admit he didn’t have much skill
with a bow. His skill was more with knives, and their throwing and close
range fighting. Immediately he saw this might become a problem if the
wolves actually existed, he would need a weapon with a little more power,
“And an axe.”
“An axe for hunting?” Maggie questioned, “That is not the most
orthodox weapon.”
“Well it’s for. . .” Hero stumbled on how to explain.
“It’s ok, hunter,” Maggie said, “you don’t have to explain to me.”
“Actually, the name is Hero,” Hero said.
“Ok, Hero, but you are still the next hunter, I assume,” Maggie said
confidently, “hired by Octavo?”
“Well, yes,” Hero admitted. “I take it there has been many before
me to come through those doors.”
“You aren’t the first,” Maggie admitted.
“Then you must know exactly the supplies I need, load me up.”
“You are a lot nicer than most of them,” Maggie said. “Might be nice
if a man like you got to know my sister. But that can be another day.
Instead of an axe, I think you might like this hatchet. It has a shorter handle
than an axe, so it is easier to pack. Plus, this particular one has a half-moon
blade on it, which provides a maximum cutting edge with little room for
error. It is light, but very powerful.”
“You have me sold, Maggie,” Hero said. As Maggie gathered up the
rest of his needed supplies, Hero snooped around the store trying to see
what it was people did in this little town. He didn’t find much in the way of
supplies, but he did notice something interesting.
“There a lot of gold miners here?” he asked Maggie, while pointing
to the gold panning supplies.
“Not as many as there used to be,” Maggie said. “Broken Straw used
to be a gold mining town. A lot of people moved here hoping to strike it
rich. We even had a group of seven brothers, dwarf brothers, who struck it
rather rich here. They moved on though, once the wolf attacks started.
Lately, not many folks have been interested in mining, so we haven’t sold a
lot of goods.”
“Seven brothers?” Hero asked, forgetting the mining equipment.
“Well, Hero, I’ve got you all packed up,” Maggie said. “Will that be
cash, or shall I charge Octavo for your purchase?”
Hero only thought for a moment, “Charge Octavo,” he said.
 Once he was back on the street, Hero noticed a short plump fellow
entering a double door on the next street corner over, and decided to
follow. When he got to the building the short fellow had entered he looked
up and read the sign above the door “Axeman Pub.” “Well,” Hero said to
himself, “This is as good a place to start as any.”
On entering, Hero surveyed the dirty room which held four round
tables, one of which had a group of three playing a card game. Across the
room, against the opposite wall was a wooden bar with half a dozen
barstools, two of them were occupied, one by the plump man. Behind the
bar stood a very tired looking bartender, who was busy gazing at Hero with a
quizzical look, until he caught Hero looking back, and then he quickly busied
himself wiping the tumbler glass in his hand.
Hero sauntered up to the bar, because sauntering is what one does
in bars, and took the empty barstool next to the plump man.
“Can I getcha a drink?” Came the voice of the bartender from down
the bar.
“Just a ginger ale,” Hero replied, “Nothing stronger, I’m on the
clock.”
“You must not be from around here.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Mr. Cabra doesn’t let us drink anything alcoholic as long as the
current Wolf Watch is at level three or higher.” The bartender stated
nervously.
“Wolf Watch?”
“Our current possible level of wolf related violence,” said the plump
man.
“Yes, we are currently at a level four,” the bartender informed him.
“Four is the highest level we can be at without having any attacks harming
citizens. Level three out of five is just wolf sightings. Level two is rumors of
wolves. Level one is no wolf activity whatsoever.”
“And level five?” asked Hero.
“Level five is the highest level of threat. Level five means there have
been current attacks harming citizens,” the bartender said. “Currently we
have been at level four of Wolf Watch for almost an entire month.”
“The bastards just won’t leave us alone,” the plump man said more
to himself than to the other two. He just interjected in the conversation
occasionally, and other than that, Hero guessed, he would rather keep to
himself.
“You don’t need to try and depress the newcomer, Bob,” the
bartender shot at him. “He is just askin’ questions because he don’t know
the answers.”
“It’s not like we are all happy-go-lucky, Jerry.”
“Ok, ok. So we are at level four Wolf Watch,” Hero interrupted in an
attempt to stop the bickering and get back on track. “Which means there is
an elevated chance of wolf violence. Has anyone seen this wolf causing the
violence?”
“To be at level four,” Jerry the bartender started, “someone either
saw a wolf in the city limits, or we have heard wolf howls in the middle of
the night close enough for the wolf to have been inside the town.” Jerry
paused, scratching the back of his head, “In the last month it has been a
combination of the two.”
“But no one has been harmed, or we would be at a level five?”
“That’s right.” This from Bob.
“It is almost as if the wolf is waiting for something before he acts,”
sighed Jerry. “We haven’t had an actual attack in quite a while, but I figure it
is only a matter of time before The Wolf is back in the town and one of us is
caught off guard. But all the villagers seem to know the Wolf Watch
protocols, so no one, to this point anyway, has been caught off guard.”
“He ain’t actin’ right, Jerry. He must already know,” Bob accused.
“Yeah, I think you are right, Bob. There must be something he ain’t
tellin’ us,” Jerry and Bob both looked at Hero, and waited.
“Octavo sent me.”
“Oh. . .”
“So you are the new wolf hunter?” asked Jerry.
“In the flesh, the name’s Hero.”
“Well, Hero, I hope you have a few tricks up your sleeve.”
Bob snorted.
“You see, Hero,” Jerry continued, “You must be the tenth hunter in
as many months. They don’t seem to last long, and they either go one of
two ways. They either get scared out of their wits and quit, or they venture
into the woods and are never heard from again.”
“If you want a nickel’s worth of free advice,” piped in Bob, “Then you
ought to go the way of the first group and chicken out now. Ain’t nothin’
ever come from being a brave fool and rushing off into the woods. I’ve seen
many a good man never return from the darkness of the Wolf’s domain.”
“We won’t think anything bad of you, Hero,” Jerry agreed.
The three of them sat in silence for a while, Hero contemplating the
drips of sweat forming on his glass, and comparing them to the drips of
sweat forming on Jerry’s forehead and the sweat already rolling down the
back of Bob’s neck.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Hero finally spoke up.
“Well, if you’re sure,” Jerry said, “We might as well tell him what we
know about the wolf, Bob.”
“Not that it will do him a whole helluva lot of good,” spat Bob.
“Go ahead and tell us what you already know, son, and we will fill in
the blanks.”
“Not a lot, actually. . .” and Hero told them the histories Octavo had
passed on.
“What you are missing here,” Jerry told him when Hero was finally
summing up the stories from Octavo, “Is that Mr. Cabra puts a lot of
emotion into the stories he tells, and then forgets to tell you the importance
of your current job.” Hero looked up and caught Jerry’s eye. “You see,
Hero, the stories from Mr. Octavo Cabra are stories from long in the past.
You have to think that this wolf is a very powerful being. Any kind of dark
creature that can live as long as this wolf must have terrific power. And then
you have to ask yourself if this is the kind of quest you are really ready for.
There is no shame in turning back now, but once you begin, there will be no
turning back, because as you hunt The Wolf, The Wolf will also be hunting
you. And he will not give up as easily as a cowardice man.”
“As I said, I’m still here.”
“And you are. . . you are. . .” Bob said.
“Yes, Hero, you are still here,” Jerry agreed. “But I still don’t think
you grasp the power of The Wolf. This is what I want to help you
understand. This wolf has been terrorizing this village since the time the
first settlers gathered here. Some say because he wants to terrorize anyone
who finds a peaceful settling; some say it is because this land was once his,
and we took it from him; and others say it is because he has dedicated his
life to terrorizing Octavo Cabra himself.”
 Bob interrupted with another snort.
“What no one quite understands, though,” Jerry continued while
giving Bob a sideways glare, “is why the attacks are so sporadic. They do not
fall into a pattern with the wolf being hungry, and they certainly don’t fall
into any pattern with the season, or harvests, or anything that we have been
able to figure out.”
“It’s usually pretty quiet when we are harvesting,” Bob added.
“Yes, I’ve noticed that pattern myself,” Jerry confirmed.
“So if no one knows why the wolf is attacking everyone, and no one
knows what the wolf wants from us,” Hero asked, “then why doesn’t
someone just go and ask him?”
Bob snorted again.
“It’s not as easy as all that, Hero. I suppose Mr. Cabra told you the
wolf can communicate with humans, but it is a little more dicey than that,”
Jerry looked down at the glass he was polishing in his hand before he
continued with what he said next. “Other than Mr. Cabra, anyone who has
heard the wolf talk, is dead. We don’t know if the wolf actually talks, or if it
is just Mr. Cabra’s imagination. But so many people believe and feed off the
rumors, that sometimes it is hard to tell the truth from fantasy. Myself, I
believe the wolf does talk, but that you will only hear him speak if you are
going to be devoured.”
“I believe it’s a bunch of rubbish,” put in Bob.
“So I have to find out for myself,” Hero interjected.
“That you will, hunter,” came a gruff voice from behind him. It was
one of the three men playing cards at the round table. “As Jerry here said,
no one has heard the wolf talk. But Octavo will fill your head with some
goat rubbish about a talking wolf hiding by not talking. Honestly, no one has
ever heard the wolf talk, and no one has seen a person get eaten either. All
except for Mr. Cabra. If you ask me, it is all just a ploy by Octavo-bloody-
Cabra to keep us all in our place. Level Four is just to make sure we all stay
inside and don’t stay out late, that way we can all work the fields for that old
goat.”
“Watch your tone Smith!” Jerry called across the bar, “The Placer
woman saw the wolf eat her children.”
“No one can prove that, she can’t even prove that,” Smith argued
back. “She is just guessing that is what she saw. She heard a wolf howl, and
then her kids never came back. It was so dark she couldn’t distinguish
whether or not her kids were eaten or if a big man carried them off into the
woods.”
“So what do you suggest? We are all being tormented by a big hairy
giant who carries people off into the woods?” Jerry asked, tone rising. Hero
thought the “big hairy man theory” held a lot of water, but he didn’t want to
say anything this soon.
“No, all I am saying is that there is no proof, and there never has
been any proof that a wolf is terrorizing our town. The only proof we have
to go on is our lovely half goat Mr. Cabra.”
“If you are so sure there is no proof,” Jerry said, “then why don’t you
go out in the streets in the middle of the night tonight and see what
happens? Or are you too afraid? You surely remember what happened to
the Fontane’s when they went out at night. But you’re afraid, aren’t you?”
“Maybe I will!” Smith shouted, stood up, and stalked out of the bar,
attempting to slam the swinging double doors.
“You’d think he would be a little more considerate,” Hero jested.
For once there was no snorted retort from Bob, he just sat in silence,
as did all three of them for a few moments. It was Jerry who finally broke
the silence.
“It’s not that,” Jerry admitted. “He has just been a little off since his
brother died of a wolf attack about a year ago. He keeps trying to convince
himself it is something other than a wolf.”
“Why?”
“Because then he can tell himself he is not the coward he actually is
for not chasing the wolf back into the woods and trying to avenge his
brother.”
Ah, Hero thought to himself, this Smith guy could be a problem later
if he doesn’t stay out of the way. Again, the three men fell into silence.
Hero contemplating what his next move should be, the other two thinking
about bad memories from the past.
“So in which direction should I head when leaving the city?” Hero
asked. “I mean, has anyone ever seen traces of this wolf? Prints, shedding,
scat?”
“I’m not sure, we haven’t seen a lot of. . .”
The red headed man that was sitting at the earlier card game with
Smith just came bursting in the door. Hero was so engrossed in the
conversation he didn’t even know the man had left, but now here he was
bustling through the door. His face was white, like he’d seen a ghost (or a
wolf, Hero thought), his eyes were in a panic, and his voice was frantic.
“You had better come see this!” He managed as he burst through
the door. “You,” he said pointing at Hero, “you’re the new hunter?”
“Hero.”
“Well, Hero, you especially had better come see this!”
“What is it Phil?” asked Jerry.
“It’s Maggie!” Phil panted. “The Wolf got her!”
That was all it took, and all four men, Hero included, broke into a
sprint for the door. As soon as they went through the door of the Axeman
Pub, Hero realized a wolf attack brought sheer panic to the entire town, and
that is what he walked into out in the street. Pure, unedited, unfathomable,
panic.
8- Level Five

“This way, Hero,” Phil was yelling back to him through the crowd.
Hero was trying to follow as quickly as he could, but he felt like a
salmon trying to swim upstream. Only instead of water, he was swimming
through terrified and screaming townspeople. Where had all these people
come from? The town had seemed so empty. It also seemed to Hero every
single one of these townspeople was running right into him. Even if he tried
to get out of their way, they would move the same direction as him and they
would collide. As frustrating as it was to him, the townspeople didn’t seem
to mind as long as they were able to quickly disengage and be scurrying off
on their way.
“You could at least say ‘excuse me’,” he grumbled in the direction of
a particularly heavy woman who crashed into him and almost knocked him
off his feet. He grumbled a similar, yet more colorful phrase at an older man
who he had danced two bobs and a weave with only to eventually crash into
him as well. Hero thought it was almost time to get out that new hatchet
and give it a few test swings. . . almost.
“Come on, Hero,” Phil was impatiently yelling back from farther
ahead.
Eventually, through the stream of people, they reached the body.
Jerry and Bob arrived just moments behind them, Jerry excitedly cursing,
and Bob gasping for breath. While the four men made a small circle around
the grotesquely mauled body, Hero tried to survey the slowly growing
crowd.
If whoever did this, he thought to himself, was not the wolf, then
they must still be here taking in the panic of the town and enjoying their
own work. No one, however, looked suspicious.
Jerry bent down beside the body and checked her for vitals.
“She’s dead, alright,” Jerry solemnly spoke to the ground
“It was the wolf,” Phil said, the panic still in his voice.
The crowd surrounding them began to murmur.
“Sheep’s bloody blood,” Hero had finally looked down at the body
lying on the ground in front of him. She was young, but not a youth,
probably in her late twenties. She had been very attractive while she was
still alive, she had good bone structure in her cheek bones. Her hair was
shock black, the color of charcoal, while her eyes (though hard to tell now)
were a very bright green. Anything lower than her face, though, would have
been extremely difficult for Hero to describe, as it was a mangled gash with
missing parts. Maggie, from Fontane Supply, the girl who had just helped
him, stared back up at him with death in her eyes.
Maggie’s throat was slashed with what looked like talons, or could
have easily been the very sharp claws from a large canine. Her chest and
stomach cavity were covered in blood. The blood was coming from the
same vicinity, as if the creature had been eating from the easiest area to
access, her abdominal cavity.
As Hero looked to her legs, he realized there was also blood and
mud here. Her left calf had been bitten, and there was dirt caked on her
knees and shins. The blood here had trickled, which meant this injury to her
calf had happened while she was still alive, and could very well have been
the first injury she received.
Thinking to himself about the significance of these injuries to her
lower extremities, Hero realized there had to be some reason to this. Hero
drifted off into his own little world as he looked at Maggie’s injuries. A bite
to her calf would have crippled her first, and inhibited her from walking.
Maggie, though, still tried to get away, as could be ascertained by the dirt on
the front of her legs. She had the ability to crawl.
Hero looked on the ground and quickly found scuffs in the dirt road
that looked like someone had been crawling. Most of the scuffs had been
destroyed by the current onlookers, the gathering crowd was destroying any
evidence of the attack. No wonder no one ever found evidence of a wolf.
Confirming his thoughts on her injuries, though, Hero took these discovered
facts, and tried to picture what had happened in his mind.
What would be the point to the order of this attack?
The only answer he could arrive at from this question was the wolf
(or person) responsible would have been making her suffer on purpose.
There was a time, when Hero was younger, he had seen a dog of his chase
after a rabbit in the yard. The rabbit was not as fast as the dog, and the dog
running at full speed was able to overtake the rabbit very quickly. A single
blow and the dog was able to kill the rabbit.
 So what is the point of an injury to the leg? The wolf would be faster
than a human. The only creature that would make an injury like this would
be a cat. He had seen this before as well, a cat toying with a mouse. The cat
would keep the rodent alive because it now had a living toy, until the cat
grew tired of the mouse, and then killed its new toy.
But this didn’t make sense either. Why would a wolf toy with a
human before killing it?
So what would be another reason to torture a person?
Torture.
That had to be it. The wolf was torturing Maggie before he killed
her, probably looking for some sort of information. If the wolf could in fact
talk, which Hero had no evidence to argue the contrary, then maybe it was
using its speaking ability to gather information. But information on what?
For this, Hero did not know enough to have an answer.
He went back to studying the body. The evidence of Maggie’s body
also suggested Hero’s torture theory. He was dismayed to observe much
blood had seeped from the wounds inside the chest and abdominal cavity of
Maggie. While conversely, there was very little blood coming from the
throat wound.
“He ate her alive?” Hero voiced this, and instantly regretted it.
Thankfully only the three closest men heard him, and all three of their heads
snapped to look at him. He was also thankful these three men did not
repeat what he said loud enough for the crowd to hear.
“No, Hero, there is a gash on her neck, that surely killed her,” Jerry
countered in a close whisper.
“But Jerry,” Hero spoke just as softly, “look at the blood that has
amassed from the wounds on her midsection. And then look at how little
blood came from the wound on her neck. The wolf had to have made that
gash as the killing blow, but it came after the wounds to the body.”
“But why?” asked Phil
Bob only grunted.
“He was torturing her, trying to get some sort of information out of
her.”
“What would this young lady know that the wolf would want?”
asked Phil.
“You mentioned earlier something happening to the Fontane’s?
Maggie was a Fontane, wasn’t she? We have to find more evidence to
figure out what’s going on,” and before he finished speaking, Hero started
looking around on the ground for more clues. He had already looked at the
body for long enough, and didn’t want to look at it any longer.
“We had better find Marylou,” Jerry exclaimed.
“Who’s Marylou?” Hero asked, but by this point, Hero was barely
listening for the answer, he was intent on the ground covering the entire
street around them. With all the panic from the townspeople, he would be
lucky if he found any evidence left. All the scuffs and smudges on the
ground from the people running away from the body, and then later
gathering to it, would hide any evidence he could have found. With despair,
he straightened up and walked back to the group gathered around the body.
“What we need to do. . .” Hero started but didn’t have a chance to
finish, he was interrupted by an ear piercing scream that quickly dissipated
into sobs.
“Marylou, calm down,” Jerry was saying.
“It. . . It. . . No!” yelled the girl who must be Marylou.
Marylou attempted to stagger forward toward Maggie. It was just a
few steps, though, until her legs went weak and she fell backward into
Jerry’s arms. Jerry slowly lowered her to the ground waving air across her
face with his hand.
“I have to see her,” Marylou was saying, “Is she. . . is she. . . was it. .
?” All the questions she continually tried to ask, she was unable to finish.
Either the shock of what she was going through, or the inability to want to
know the answer was keeping her from finishing the questions. Jerry,
however, answered the questions for her.
“Yes, Marylou, it was the wolf,” Jerry took a deep breath, “And I’m
so sorry Marylou, but your sister is dead.”
On hearing those words, Marylou collapsed the rest of the way,
passing out. Jerry carried Marylou’s thin but muscular body to the side of
the road and laid her down in a patch of grass. Hero walked over and knelt
next to Marylou, taking her in for the first time. She was younger than her
sister, probably in her late teens. The rest of her, though, was almost
exactly the same. She had the same strong cheek bones as her sister, the
same midnight black hair, and the same impressive green eyes. Marylou,
though, had quite a bit more muscle definition.
 Hero, was enamored by her.
Hero closed his eyes and tried to regain his focus. He had to not let
this beautiful girl interfere with his ability to find the wolf. He attempted to
lie to himself, that there was no reason to deviate from the current path he
was on to secure his own freedom. He even pushed himself to believe his
own freedom was more important than anything else at this exact moment
in time, including his emotions in regards to someone who had surely just
received the worst shock of her life.
However, in truth, when he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate,
all he could see was Marylou. (It was like his dad had told him a long time
ago, “Hero, if I tell you to think of anything but an elephant, what do you
think of?” And just like that elephant then, now he thought of Marylou) So
there he sat, with his eyes closed, trying to bring himself back to his task.
With his eyes closed, he reached his hand out to Marylou’s, and grasped it in
his. While holding her limp hand in his own, he lifted her head off of the soft
grass, holding it in his other hand, letting her sleek black hair spread out
beneath her. Maggie’s wish had come true, Hero did meet her sister, just
not in the capacity that she had intended. He spoke to Marylou in a very
soft voice, “I will,” Hero said, “find this wolf for you, Marylou. I will find it,
and I will kill it.”
While Hero was sitting on the ground with Marylou, Jerry was just
now taking in a survey of the crowd gathering around the body of Maggie.
And it didn’t take long for him to find the person he was looking for.
“Smith!” Jerry yelled.
Smith ignored Jerry’s yell, and started trying to push his way through
the crowd to escape the accusations he knew were going to be coming from
Jerry.
“Smith!” Jerry yelled again, “Is this enough proof for you, Smith?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Barkeep.”
“Don’t play dumb, Smith,” Jerry yelled his voice still full of anger,
“You were talking less than an hour ago about how there was no wolf, and it
was just a ploy to keep us working. Now here is your proof, lying dead
before your feet, and all you can do is pretend ignorance?”
“You best watch your tone, Jerry,” Smith said heatedly.
“Another one of us dies, and all you worry about is how you are
spoken to?” Jerry was not backing down. “Nearly every one of the
Fontane’s is now dead. I have half a mind to knock your teeth in.”
“Don’t even try to blame this murder on me,” Smith yelled back, “I
had nothing to do with it. It is no skin off my back. And I still see no wolf,
just a dead, worthless, woman.”
The crowd all turned to Smith, most of them gasping.
While the crowd turned, Jerry rushed at Smith. The two men
tumbled to the ground in a ball of fists and feet flying at one another. Jerry
instantly had Smith in a headlock and was punching him in the stomach.
Half the crowd was cheering them on, while the other half was trying in
vane to separate them.
Hero, however, wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Hero had opened his eyes while kneeling on the ground next to
Marylou. And when he did finally open them and look on the ground, in the
grass next to Marylou’s perfectly proportioned neck, he saw something. If
she hadn’t been lying in that exact spot on the grass, he never would have
come across the faint outline. The outline Marylou’s head had been hiding
as Hero had knelt next to her.
A wolf track.
The track was the size of Marylou’s head, and it pointed away from
the town.
Not losing an instant, Hero was on his feet and sprinting for the edge
of the town. Had he waited a split second longer, he would have been there
for Marylou coming back to consciousness. He would have seen her open
her eyes and she would have been looking into his while he held her hand.
All these thoughts were bouncing in Hero’s head as he ran for the
town’s edge. But they were all thoughts of what might have been, and pasts
that never happened. They were not thoughts of what his job was, and
what his duty was. He knew all of this, but still he thought about what
would have happened if he would have stayed just a few moments longer.
And he thought about when the time would come when he would have the
courage to stay that moment longer, and not have to explain his current job
or his past. He even thought about when the time would be he’d be proud
to say his name to a woman while looking into her eyes, beautiful green or
not.
But Hero knew the time was not now.
Now, Hero had a wolf trail, and the trail was still hot.
9- Back into the Woods

The track Hero found was pressed neatly into the ground just
underneath Marylou’s head. It was the biggest wolf track he had ever seen,
slightly larger than his outstretched hand, and it was headed out of the town
of Broken Straw toward the South.
As he sprinted on, he had to keep reminding himself one track didn’t
tell him the exact path the wolf was taking. He had to slow down, and begin
tracking the creature. He ran on, knowing he was unprepared for almost
anything he may find. He regretted now that he hadn’t taken any
opportunity to stock up on supplies he might need for being in the woods.
All he had was what Maggie had put in his day pack, and it was not very full.
He hadn’t given a lot of thought to following the tracks of the wolf,
the only thought he had was that after the carnage he had just witnessed,
this beast needed to be put down. Not only that, but if he could quickly
track down the animal, then his employment underneath Octavo would be
over. His job being complete, meant he would regain his freedom. Nothing
was on his mind other than that (well, that and the wellbeing of Marylou) as
he rushed through the clearing around the town, and into the trees just
beyond.
For no one finding any signs of the wolf before, Hero found them
quite easily. It was not a simple trail, but it was a trail a trained tracker like
himself could follow without any difficulty. The thought barely crossed his
mind about how easy it was as he rushed on following the trail.
Sometimes the trail almost went cold, and Hero would have to
pause his sprint to look for the next clue. He would always find it, though.
Once he just went on a whim that a broken twig was from the wolf, another
time he determined a scratch in the dirt going up a side hill was from the
wolf as well. The easier tracks to follow were the wolf’s prints, which stood
out from every other print just by their massive size. He also found the
occasional droplet of blood, Maggie’s, that must be dripping from the wolf’s
muzzle as he too ran into the woods.
As opposed to the last time Hero rushed into the woods, this time he
kept his baring and he knew exactly where he was headed. Another half
mile and they would reach the river below Goatsbeard Dam. Then, if they
continued following the trail he thought they were following, the wolf would
turn sharply East and go up the foothills just past Goatsbeard Dam.
Hero stopped dead in his tracks.
If they were going to follow that path, he could cut the wolf off and
get in front of it. If he simply angled upstream, there was a well worn game
trail he could follow that crossed the river at a very narrow place, a place so
narrow he could cross with just a few splashes. Then he could cut straight
across the open fields on the other side, and double back down this narrow
path. If he timed it well, he would enter the woods on the opposite side at
the same time the wolf was coming up from below. . . If the wolf were
following this trail. . . If the wolf did not turn off the trail. . . if he
were as close behind the wolf as he thought he was.
So many “ifs” already, but to add just one more: if this all worked
out, he would be ahead of the wolf with enough time to ambush him and
end this. And, ending this now, meant Hero would be a free man.
He only thought for another split second and not knowing he was
being followed, Hero angled upstream.

*****

True to his memory, the game trail was only a few yards into the
brush, parallel to the path he was chasing the wolf on. After he was on the
game trail for just a few feet, it did exactly as he remembered, and started
cutting through the woods at a steeper angle than the path he was
following.
Just over a mile of cross country running later, Hero reached the
place where he would ambush the wolf, by his estimate, two minutes in
front of the beast. He quickly looked around to make sure there were no
recent tracks passing through the immediate vicinity. Satisfied there were
no recent tracks, but still worried he missed the wolf, Hero looked for a
place to hide.
His hiding place was less than five feet off the trail, but well
concealed between a young fir tree about three feet high and a boulder
bigger than Hero. This is where Hero crouched and waited for the beast to
approach him.
 After five minutes, Hero started to get nervous. There was no
movement on the trail, and the wolf should have been here by now. The
wolf must have taken another path off this trail; and Hero had been sure this
is the way he was heading. He was just about to break away from his hiding
spot when he heard a twig snap in the direction the wolf would be coming
from.
Slower than what Hero imagined, the wolf came into view, jogging at
a slow trot. Maybe he was running sluggishly because his stomach was full
of human flesh. . . As soon as the thought entered Hero’s mind he pushed it
away. The grotesqueness of Maggie’s mauling still too fresh in his brain.
Refocusing, Hero put all his attention on the wolf.
The beast was massive. Much larger than Hero had originally
thought the wolf must be. The wolf, all shades of gray except for one white
paw and one black paw, was almost as large as a horse. As Hero believed,
there was still blood mixed with saliva, dripping from the wolf’s muzzle.
What Hero didn’t expect was there was no blood on the wolf’s feet. He had
been sure the wolf had slashed at Maggie with his paws.
Finally, when Hero noticed the wolf’s eyes, fear struck deep in his
heart. For the eyes were not the eyes of a beast, but the eyes of an
intelligent creature. Hero had seen the eyes of many dogs, and this beast’s
eyes looked nothing like them. The eyes had the look of experience, of
cunning, of profound thought, and like there was a soul behind them.
Hero only held his place for a few more moments, and when the
wolf stepped just even with him, he came out from his hiding spot.
“End of the line, wolf.”
The wolf stopped, turned, and took in Hero with a long (was it still
hungry?) look. A growl began forming in the back of the creature’s throat, a
deepness Hero believed could rattle boulders. It was only now Hero realized
the wolf showed no fear. The realization that the wolf was not afraid of him,
made Hero suddenly afraid. Any wild beast would have been startled,
turned to see what was there, seen him, and then turned to run. It was in
that final turn Hero was going to take the animal down. But, now, with no
fear in the beast, Hero’s plan had to change.
“I know you are the one who killed the woman in the village,” Hero
spoke, trying to improvise, hoping the wolf did not hear the fear in his own
voice.
 The growl emanating from within the wolf started to grow louder.
“I know you can speak, too.” Hero didn’t know where he was going
with this line of talk, but nervously switched his drawn knife (a seven inch
metal blade that was his favorite from the collection he acquired at Fontane
Supply), from his right hand to his left hand and then back again. “You can
talk human, I mean.”
Still no words from the wolf, but the beast continued to growl, and
now took a step closer to Hero. A step and then a fade back in what Hero
quickly recognized as the beginning of a slow circle. The animal planned on
circling him like a meal he was ready to eat. Hero side stepped, cutting the
wolf off, not letting him get the psychological advantage any more than he
already had. . . Hero was no meal to be evaluated.
“Speak!” Hero demanded.
“I will not be spoken to as if I am some common dog.” The reply
came in a very simple yet elegant voice. The type of voice royalty would
have. . . if royalty were a wolf, an angry wolf who spoke in a half growl.
“So you can talk,” Hero was just as satisfied as he was surprised.
“I don’t bark if that’s what you wanted,” the wolf now seemed to be
going from offended and angry, to amused, “Do tell me, human, what is it
you plan on doing with that knife of yours? Shaving? No, you’d cut
yourself. You must be the new hunter that old goat-boy hired. I hate to tell
you this, human, but you are the one at the end of your line.”
“The name is Hero,” Hero said.
“Ah, a meal with a name, how amusing.”
“I have you,” Hero continued, ignoring the wolf’s interruption.
“Surrender to me, and make this easier on yourself. I will make your death
come quickly.”
“Ah contrare,” spoke the wolf with what could only be interpreted
as a smile. Too late, Hero heard crunching in the bushes coming from all
around him, “It is we, Hero, that have you.”
10- A Meal with a Name

Hero was again regretting his rash decision to rush into the woods
without waiting for help. He knew what it meant when he heard the rustling
in the bushes behind him, it meant he was surrounded. Taking a deep
breath, he glanced over one shoulder, and then the other, taking in the
situation he had gotten himself into.
Much to his chagrin, and much too late, Hero had an epiphany.
Wolves are not solitary animals, wolves run in packs.
And, as he now realized in his glances to see his captors, he took in
the faces of not only the wolf he was talking to, but he quickly counted the
faces of five wolves, all of them the size of the first. Every wolf was softly
growling. . . not an angry growl, but a softer and more content growl. Hero
did everything he could not to look into the wolves’ conscious eyes, but in
looking away the only place he could look was their shining teeth.
As the wolves closed in on him, Hero knew he was cornered. He
swiftly searched, eyes jumping but trying to remain calm, for a way out of
this mess. He couldn’t even back away from them because there was a wolf
coming at him in every direction, slowly, taking their time. Almost as if the
wolves were enjoying seeing him suffer. Eyes still darting, Hero searched in
vain for a place to escape.
“Hero,” growled the first wolf, “Meet the ‘Big- Bad Wolf Pack’.”
“Big-Bad Wolves,” the first wolf continued, “meet our meal with a
name.”
After that statement, everything suddenly made sense to him.
There wasn’t only one wolf in all these stories, there wasn’t even only one
wolf torturing the town, there were many wolves. It would have taken
many wolves of this magnitude in order to cause all the damage, not to
mention be able to live this long. Whether it was natural selection, or just a
freak of nature, there was more than one. More than one meant there was
enough to carry on the blood line. Thinking about the stories Octavo had
told him earlier, it started to make even more sense. There would have
been no way a single wolf, even a wolf of this size, would have been able to
eat seven goat children and then the goat mother. There would have been
no room to be able to eat them all, and Octavo said himself they were
swallowed whole. Now that he was finally able to make this very important
revelation, it was too late. Everywhere he looked he saw teeth and fur.
Hero saw no way out.
“There’s nowhere to run,” spoke another wolf, confirming Hero’s
fears, “we have you completely surrounded.”
“It was nice of you to come for dinner,” spoke a third.
“Just because you can kill a candy witch doesn’t mean you can kill a
wolf,” said another.
“This whole afternoon,” said the white pawed first wolf, “you
thought you were tracking me. You even thought you were going to cut me
off, as if I didn’t know about the shortcut. In your human ignorance, you
didn’t realize it was we who were hunting and trapping you!”
“No, I. . .” Hero tried to grasp the situation, but was failing, his
confidence was falling rapidly, and the wolves had every advantage now.
“And now, we have you.”
“We’re going to eat you.”
“Not whole, like usual, but in bites.”
“That way, everyone will get a taste of the meal with a name.”
With no way out, Hero gave up all hope. He silently closed his eyes,
and sunk to his knees. Eyes still closed, kneeling on the dry grass in the
middle of the path, Hero finally spoke.
“If you are going to eat me, kill me swiftly.”
“With pleasure,” said the first wolf.
But the death blow didn’t come. Hero could hear them breathing,
feel the wolf’s breath on his face, but the wolf never struck him. Instead, it
just stood over him breathing heavily on his face. What was happening?
Why was the wolf hesitating? Was it. . . smelling him?
“Do you smell that Sergeant?” Asked the first wolf with a bark. Hero
felt enough courage now to slowly open one of his eyes, and look at the
wolf. There was a look of confusion on the wolf’s face. The wolf was not
smelling him, the wolf’s nose was in the air sniffing at the small breeze.
“Yes. . .” answered the only wolf who had not yet spoken. His nose
was in the air too, concentrating, trying to place the smell. “It smells
familiar, but I cannot place where I have sm. . .”
Before Sergeant could finish his thought, a whooping yell came from
the direction of the path Hero had just come down to cut off the wolf. The
yell got closer very rapidly, and Hero could hear someone running toward
him. From the vocalization of the yell, it was a woman.
“Aaaaahhhhhh!” came the yell, followed by a sudden “thwack” Hero
recognized as a hard stick hitting flesh. And then the woman spoke again:
“Back away from him, all of you!”
Everything happened very quickly now. Hero opened his eyes the
rest of the way and began taking in the scene surrounding him before he
acted. It was the first wolf, the one with the white paw that had taken the
initial blow from his rescuers bow-staff. The first wolf was lying on the
ground, not dead, but obviously dizzy, as he was struggling to stand up from
the well placed blow. All the other wolves were no longer surrounding
Hero, but rather they had made an arc around him and his rescuer leaving
the path she had just come down their best escape route. But knowing
there was no way he could outrun the wolves, he quickly eliminated this
option.
Standing in front of him, between him and the wolves, facing the
wolves, stood his savior. She was well toned, and by her stance, a force to
be reckoned with. She stood legs apart, head bobbing and searching for the
next wolf that would be a contender, her eyes challenging them to rush her.
She held her bow staff with her right hand at the ready, and her left hand
out to balance. Her black hair was nearly all the way to her waist, and the
color of midnight.
“Marylou?”
“A little help would be appreciated right now, Hero.”
Not needing any more of an invitation, Hero remembered the knife
he was still holding in his hand. He shifted the knife to his left hand with a
quick toss, and pulled his hatchet from his belt loop. He came up next to
Marylou, who also stood at the ready, and waited for the wolves to strike
out at them. Both of the humans knew they were outnumbered but were
ready to stand their ground when the wolves, who were now starting to
circle, finally decided to attack.
“I still like the odds, boys,” this was spoken in Sergeants voice. Hero
noticed the wolf, and saw not only was this wolf the size of a horse like all
the others, but he was also very muscular. Or at least he appeared that way,
his fur a shimmering gray with white hues. “Four on two still stands to our
advantage, whether or not they have their human weapons.”
One of the other wolves grinned showing a set of razor sharp teeth.
Every one of the white daggers were just as sharp and appeared to be
almost as long as the knife Hero held in his left hand. The first wolf was still
lying on the ground attempting to get up. Hero kept a close eye on this first
wolf, he would surely be the deal breaker.
The attack came without warning. The sharp-toothed wolf lunged at
Marylou, only not precisely at her, but more at her staff. Marylou was not
prepared for a lunge at her weapon, and her attempt to counter the attack
failed, and the wolf latched onto her staff. As soon as the wolf latched onto
the staff, he started pulling, with Marylou holding the other end, pulling
back.
The next wolf took the advantage of Marylou being sidetracked,
pulling for her staff, and lunged straight at Marylou. Hero saw this lunge
coming, and with a quick move, was able to twirl between the lunging wolf
and Marylou, flashing his knife. The knife’s point struck the wolf just barely,
but struck him nonetheless. The wolf let out a yelp, and returned to the
other two wolves who were still circling.
Sergeant, seeing the twirl Hero had just made jumped at Hero from
behind. Hero didn’t see the attack, but rather he heard Sergeants breathing
change right as he jumped, and was able to duck just in time in order to
avoid the wolf who now flew over his head. Hero swung his hatchet up with
his right hand at Sergeant but just missed as the wolf sailed by.
“Gah, I almost had you, human!” Sergeant roared.
“And I you, dog.”
A deep growl came from the depths of Sergeants throat. “Pull her
Snarls, quit messing around, you are stronger than this female human.”
As Sergeant spoke the command, Snarls obeyed, and started tugging
as hard as he could on Marylou’s bow-staff, a giant dog in a game of tug of
war with a human. Snarls pulled and twisted, and pulled some more trying
to pull Marylou over. But the instructions from Sergeant had also tipped off
Marylou. As Snarls pulled, Marylou began to run, but not run away from the
pulling Snarls, she ran at him. The sudden shift of balance caught Snarls off
guard and he was not able to keep up with the momentum he had running
right at him. With a sudden thrust while running, Marylou was able to upset
enough of the dogs balance and Snarls fell over. As she continued with the
momentum, Marylou let the dog fall, and she let the staff fall with him.
Marylou continued to run as the staff plunged into Snarls’ throat, pushing
the dogs larynx between the wood of the staff and the hard ground.
The bow-staff, however, was not sharp and therefore did not pierce
the skin of the wolf. But it still did damage as Marylou running at full steam
rammed the bow-staff into the wolves throat with all her weight, and using
it as a pole-vaulter would, propelled herself over the wolf. Snarls, not dead,
but in agony, lay on the ground twisting and writhing in pain as only a wolf
with its voice box completely smashed would do.
Meanwhile, Hero, Sergeant, and the third wolf continued to circle
each other. With a feint by Sergeant, Hero dodged, and the third wolf saw
his opportunity, teeth barred it lunged at Hero’s throat. Hero saw this
attack coming and at the last second, not allowing the wolf to correct in
midair, side stepped the lunge. Within the swift movement of sidestepping,
making it one fluid motion, Hero dropped his knife and gripped his hatchet
with both arms. While the wolf was sailing past him, Hero set his feet,
turned his hips, and brought the hatchet across his body in a full arc,
slamming the half-moon blade into the side of the wolf with all his might.
The struck wolf fell to the ground with a hard thump as Hero heard more
“thwacks” and growls coming from the clearing behind him where Marylou
and the other wolf were facing off.
“Flint!” yelped Sergeant, “What did you do to Flint with your human
weapon?!”
“What I’m about to do to you.”
“You don’t have the scrote.”
“I do. Even though I can’t lick it.”
“Enough talk!” Sergeant howled now losing his cool because of his
fallen comrade. Rage enveloping the howl, his eyes focused on Hero alone,
“This ends now!”
For minutes, the only sounds coming from the clearing were the
growls from the two standing wolves, and the heavy breathing of the
humans. Occasionally, the silence was accompanied by a “whoosh” of a
knife or bow-staff missing target. Then the sounds of snapping teeth would
be heard as they missed flesh flying by a human’s head or leg. An eventual
“thwack” would sometimes pierce the silent sparring, as staff connected
(though not fully) with wolf flesh.
 The sparring lasted for a short time, though it seemed like hours for
the four remaining. The two humans fought valiantly, and the two wolves
fought ferociously. Just as Hero knew he could not last much longer, the
circling suddenly stopped, and all five wolves were positioned opposite the
two humans, just as it was when they began, except three of the wolves lay
on the ground injured.
It was now Hero noticed the first wolf was only lying on the ground,
not struggling to get up. Not lying the way a dog will in death, but resting on
the ground, with his head resting on his two front paws. “Uh oh,” thought
Hero, “he is fresh, and we are tired.”
But just as Hero was able to process this thought, the wolf spoke.
Not to him, but to the other wolves. It would have been hard to miss by
anyone, but Hero noticed immediately how when this wolf talked, the rest
of the wolves listened.
“I have seen enough.” Spoke the first wolf.
“But Captain,” Sergeant countered, “He grows tired.”
“I said,” Captain spoke again, “I have seen enough! A tired and
cornered mouse is the only mouse that will resort to biting you.”
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant reluctantly obeyed.
“You are a worthy opponent,” Captain said to Hero, “You and your
woman friend. But I must bid thee ado. We must leave you now, the sun
grows dim in the Western sky. We will fight another day. . . Next time, we
will not underestimate you.”
Hero couldn’t respond, he didn’t know how to respond. Was this a
trick of some kind or was the wolf being honest with him? Hero hoped for
the latter, but feared for the first. This wolf had already outsmarted him
once, and he wasn’t going to allow it to happen again. Thus, he stayed at
the ready, and with a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, he was
relieved to notice Marylou didn’t relax either.
“Wolves,” Captain now spoke in the direction of his comrades on the
ground.
A whimper came from Flint, who had to struggle to get to his feet,
blood dripping from his side where Hero had chopped him with the hatchet.
Flint held the only real injury Hero had made during the entire fight with the
five wolves. And even though the wolf struggled, Flint still joined at the side
of Captain. A disappointment in Hero’s eyes, even though he had only made
the one strike, it was not a killing blow.
Just as Flint had whimpered, Snarls moaned a gurgling sound. He
was still in an incredible amount of pain, but he had no problem walking.
Had Snarls thought more than of himself and his busted voice box, he could
have made the difference in the sparring in the woods. In fact, Snarls
possessed no other injury than the one to his throat, the humans had
completely ignored the animals lying about their feet as they had sparred
with the other wolves. Gurgling moan and all, Snarls too joined the others
standing next to Captain.
“We live to fight another day, boys,” Sergeant said in a voice
thankful to the wolves, but disappointing to himself that the fight did not
continue.
“Wolves. . .” Captain now spoke in a more influential tone, as if
calling a pet. As he did so, the wolves who were already gathered around
him, all turned away from the two humans. With just a few short trots, the
wolves quickly disappeared into the surrounding brush, gone as quickly as
they had come, leaving the two humans standing in the clearing alone.
“What in the devil was that all about?” asked Marylou.
11- Further Direction

The wolves were disappointed, to say the least, in their inability to

take down Hero. The appearance of the raven haired woman was not what
they had expected to happen. The surprise attack by her was the difference
maker in the fight. Captain swore he wouldn’t let it happen again. And
now, they had to report to their boss with less than adequate news about
their attack on the city and then losing the match with Hero.
“Try to keep up, Flint,” Sergeant was barking at the injured wolf.
And then to Captain, “We need to figure out what to do with him, he is
holding us up.”
“The boss will decide,” Captain’s answer was short, and snappish.
The other wolves knew not to speak to him when he was in this kind of
mood, and the remainder of the journey to the boss’s house was made in
silence.
Captain knew the boss was not going to be happy about this, and all
he could hope was the price of their employment would not change. The
boss liked to adjust their income on poor performance, and Captain was not
going to be able to afford to support his pack if their wage went down by
much more.
The trek to the human house was short, but nerve racking. Captain
wanted the meeting to be a short one, and he wanted to get back to camp
before dark. It was already dusk, though, and he feared the meeting would
be long. All of the wolves were nervous, Captain could smell it on them, and
he assumed they were nervous for the same reasons he was. There was
even a small smell of fear in the air that had to be coming from one of the
wolves. Captain hoped the only smell he was emitting was determination,
but your scent will never lie for you, and very often it will reveal things you
do not want revealed.
He was most worried about the fact that when Hero went to his
knees, there was no scent of fear, but only acceptance. The same held true
at the end of the battle and through it, no smells of fear coming from either
of the humans. This was the true reason he stopped the battle. If the
humans held so much confidence, then the wolves needed to change their
strategy. Every other foe they faced, every other hit they made, the humans
emitted nothing but fear. That fear worked to the advantage of the wolves,
without it, there would be no panicked movements to capitalize on.
They had reached the backdoor of the boss very quickly, and Captain
let out a short bark to signify they were there. It was only a few moments
and the door was opened.
“I trust,” said the man at the door, “that everything went according
to plan.”
The scent on this man was never fear, he had always oozed
confidence, but always had an astringent smell of madness in the
background. The scent had been the same ever since the wolves met the
man many years ago. Therefore, the statement was made in pure
confidence, assuming the wolves had completed their job. Captain was
afraid of that, it was going to make the news more difficult to deliver.
Before he had the chance to speak, though, the man saw the wolves
wore injuries. Suddenly his scent went from pure confidence into a
questioning rage. The man spoke before Captain had the chance.
“I see you took injuries,” the man said in a level tone. “Did this
interfere with your ability to complete the job I assigned you?”
“It did sir.” Captain was the only one who spoke at these meetings.
He took the role of leader of the wolves, and even in times of difficulty, he
remained in charge. Captain was not one to shy away, even if he was going
to be berated for the information he had to give.
“Tell me everything,” said the black caped man, “leave nothing out.”
“The new hunter. . . he figured us out immediately, and started
tracking me into the woods...” And Captain did tell him everything, leaving
nothing out. Even though the news was less than fortunate for the wolves,
Captain knew the man did not have many other options to achieve what he
wanted done. So Captain told him the entire story, from the time he took
down the woman in the town himself, to the wolves getting ambushed, to
the injuries they all took. He left the information he had personally obtained
from the village woman for last. In doing so, he knew he would stand a
better chance to keep their wage the same.
“She said all of that?” The man was now skeptical. And though the
wolves have been working for him for years, he still did not trust them. He
felt as if the information was fabricated in order to make the wolves failure
look better, but every word Captain spoke was true.
“Every word,” Captain smoothly replied, “I did the hit and
interrogation myself.”
“Very well,” the man was now lost in thought, “It is getting late,
Captain, you may leave me now.”
“But sir. . .” Captain began to protest, there were other things they
needed to discuss.
“Don’t worry, Captain, the agreed upon price of ten sheep will be
delivered tomorrow afternoon.” The man told him flatly. “But as for the
thirty sheep for killing Hero, those sheep will remain mine until the task is
completed.”
So the price did not change, this was good news. Forty sheep were
good, but fifty sheep would be better, and Captain saw his opportunity to
raise the price on his boss, and for once didn’t see how his boss could get
out of it. He hesitated for a moment to make it appear as if what he were
about to say was really bothering him.
“Sir, the raven haired woman,” Captain said with as much
trepidation as a wolf could muster.
“What of her?” The black caped man asked, “The instructions remain
the same.”
“But sir, she is traveling with the Hero person.”
“That fact does not change anything, and it should make my plan
work better.”
That is what Captain figured, every extra challenge presenting itself
would make a plan work better. Humans were very manipulative in their
dealings with one another. If they were more like wolves then maybe they
would be able to accomplish more, straightforward and to the point. But at
this point, the man did not see what Captain was hinting at, so it was
Captain’s turn to be manipulative.
“Sir, this makes the job much more difficult.”
“And how is that?”
“They fight side by side, Sir,” Captain attempted to put his words
together very carefully, he walked a very thin line here. He wanted the boss
to see the job would be more difficult, while at the same time not eluding to
a possible relationship between Hero and the raven haired woman. “Hero
and the raven haired woman fighting side by side makes it more difficult for
us to accomplish your task. It may even be accidental, but she may get
harmed in us attempting to kill him. This new difficulty should raise the
price, just slightly, but it should raise the price nonetheless.”
“The only way Marylou would be harmed is if you were careless!”
The man spat in all the wolves’ direction. “Just like you were careless with
this last ‘ambush’ of yours, only ending up getting ambushed yourselves. It
is your carelessness, Captain, that makes you fail on your jobs. The price will
remain the same. Unless, of course, Marylou is harmed in any way. If she is
harmed, then your price for Hero will be reduced from thirty sheep to
fifteen. If by some misfortune she dies, your overall price will be zero sheep,
and I will take back as many sheep as I see fit in you failing the final step of
my plan!”
A soft growl was coming from somewhere in the room. Surprised,
Captain quickly looked around to see who was speaking out of turn.
Growling at a time when they did not have the upper hand would only make
things worse, and Captain wanted to put an end to it before it was heard by
their boss. But he only found out who was growling after the man did.
“I suggest you watch your tone with me, Sergeant,” the man said.
“Watch your tone, and mind your manners while you are in my house.”
The wolves were taken aback. In shock, more than anything,
Sergeant quickly stopped growling. Captain was the only one who ever
spoke, how did this man know any of the others names? This was
information that was good to know, but at the same time was very
disconcerting.
“Don’t look so surprised, I know all your names. Captain, Sergeant,
Snarls, Baldran, Flint, Maverick, Dante. . . shall I go on?” The wolves just
stood there in disbelief, not only did he know their names, but he knew the
names of others not in this hunting party. “Not only do I know your names, I
know how many of you there are, and I know where you live. Your camp,
just past the sheep grazing land, is no secret to me. And don’t think I can’t
tell you apart either,” the man said as he repeated their names and pointed
to each one of them as he spoke their name once more. “If you cross me, I
will know which one of you it is, and I will put you down like the dog you
are!”
“That will be unnecessary, Sir,” Captain finally spoke, trying to regain
some composure and control in a situation quickly spinning out of control.
He knew the boss needed them, but he also knew he didn’t need all of
them. . . especially as much as the wolves needed their boss. And as
manipulative as humans were, especially humans with power, it might not
be hard for the boss to switch the balance of power within the wolves. He
could create chaos and rebuild the pack from the inside.
“Do not let me catch any of you growling in my house again!”
“It will not happen,” Captain said, shooting Sergeant a ‘keep your
mouth shut’ glance.
“Now then, I believe we are all at an understanding.”
“One more thing, Sir,” now Captain spoke nervously. “Our injured
wolf, Flint,” he spoke the name nervously, even though he knew the man
already knew the name, “needs human medicine in order to recover.
Without it, I fear the worst.”
“Human medicine? You must be joking with me!” the man said this
with evil in his voice, tainted with laughter. “You are wild wolves, are you
not? You always insist you are not common dogs, and you are above the
needs of human compassion. Therefore I tell you, Captain, to sleep in the
bed you made, you cannot have it both ways. So, do what wolves do.”
That, is what Captain was afraid he would say.
12- Around the Campfire

The night started very efficiently. The two humans needed to start
making a camp, and they needed to do so quickly. There was an unspoken
agreement between them, they both knew what needed to be done, so they
both did it. There wasn’t enough time to do any building of structures, or
even enough time to make sure their tracks were not visible.
The wolf had been right, night was going to be on them very swiftly.
Together, they found what they thought would be the safest place
away from where the battle just took place. Yet they also didn’t want to
travel very far because they wanted to take advantage of what little daylight
they had left to gather wood.
“I still don’t understand,” Marylou was saying as she was scrubbing
the dirt off of the wild roots she had been gathering. The roots being the
only thing they were going to have to eat this night.
“I don’t understand what there is to not understand,” Hero replied
grumpily. He had been grumpy and sulky for the entire time they set up
camp. He didn’t even want to admit to himself how embarrassed he was
about being ambushed, let alone mention it to Marylou. Right now he was
trying to get a fire started from the small flint he carried in his pocket. He
was running one of his sharper knives down the flint trying to create a spark.
The place they had found for a camp was about a hundred yards
from the place the battle with the wolves had taken place. It was far enough
off the trail that they couldn’t be seen, but close enough to the trail that
they would know if there were any passersby. Being on top of a small knoll
gave them elevation, which gave them the advantage in defending their
camp. The fire Hero was attempting to start was going to be placed in an
alcove they had dug with sticks. The fire would be just enough heat to cook
by and enough light to see each other by without giving away their position
to anyone who unexpectedly happened down the trail in the middle of the
night.
“Bloody sheep guts,” Hero said. Marylou just stood staring at him as
Hero cursed again at another failed attempt to start a fire. In the last failed
attempt he had almost cut himself with his knife. Hero threw the flint and
knife on the ground, and looked up glaring at Marylou.
“I don’t understand why they didn’t kill us,” Marylou persisted.
“Why are you so eager to die?” Hero countered.
“I’m not,” Marylou continued, “I just don’t understand why they had
the opportunity to kill us, especially after a fight where I was sure that was
their intention, and then they just wander off. It makes no sense, Hero, and
we need to figure out why.”
“No. What we need to do is stop rambling on and wasting time over
what has happened and focus on what we need to have happen,” Hero was
growing tired of the questions about why this and why that, and was more
than happy to tell Marylou. “What I need to do is find those wolves and kill
them. What you need to do is go back to town so everyone knows you are
all right.”
“That is not going to happen.”
“And why not?”
“You are not my father, Hero. Don’t act like it.”
Hero grumbled under his breath, a few more specifically chosen
curse words, and went back to the flint and knife. Marylou, having finished
scrubbing off the roots while they were talking, just stood over him
glowering. Hero struck the knife to the stone three, four, five, six more
times, all without success of generating a spark in the dry grass. Frustrated
again, he threw the knife and flint to the ground for a second time.
“Well?” He asked, staring in frustration at Marylou.
“Give me those,” she demanded. But before Hero could respond
she snatched them up off the ground in one swoop. In her second motion,
still standing above him, she struck the knife to the flint. The motion caused
a spark to form at about the level of Hero’s eyes, and he watched it fall in
front of him, gently coming to rest in the center of the dry grass.
“I’ll be a. . .”
“Don’t curse, just blow on it,” Marylou said urgently.
Hating himself for doing so, he obeyed her, and the fire started to
come to life slowly crackling across the dry grass, and then across the dry
sticks Hero added. Before very much longer they had a small fire they were
able to roast the roots next to. As the food cooked, the two continued their
conversation.
“You should have stayed in the town, where it was safe,” Hero
started, wanting to speak about anything other than why the wolves let
them live.
“Actually,” Marylou said, “I think it is you who should have stayed
where it was safe. Those wolves led you right into their trap. And if I hadn’t
been there to save you, you would have been their supper; assuming they
would have eaten you.”
“Is that what you think happened?” Hero bluffed. “You think they
tricked me?”
“I don’t see any other way to put it.”
“No, I was just trying to gather information. You know, make them
show all their cards before I proceeded in kicking their butts.” Hero was
now running with his lie. “If you hadn’t shown up, I would have known
everything there was to know about those beasts, and then I would have
beat them all like a drum. If I hadn’t been trying to protect you in the fight, I
would have won.”
“And telling the wolves to ‘kill you quickly’ was a form of strategy?”
Hero didn’t have a response. He didn’t know Marylou had heard
that part. He didn’t know if Marylou had heard any of the conversation
between the wolves and himself, but now he knew there would be no more
bluffing. She had saved his life, and they both knew it, even though Hero
didn’t want to admit it.
After gazing into the fire for what seemed like hours, Hero finally
spoke to her.
“Tomorrow, at first light, you need to go back to the town.”
“Just like that,” she snapped her fingers, “and you are sending me
away?” Marylou’s tone did not hide the anger she was feeling. Hero picked
up on it right away, but did not back down.
“Enough lives have already been forfeit, we do not need to add your
life to the count.”
“But it is ok to add yours?”
“You don’t understand, I’m not exactly doing this by choice.”
“Hero, I know all about the candy witch and you being arrested.”
Again, she had rendered him speechless. He just stared at her across
the fire, wondering what information this black haired woman had, and
where she was getting it from. It seemed anything he tried to pull on her,
she was already steps ahead of him. And this included her ability to track
him in the woods.
“That does not excuse the fact that you need to go back home,”
Hero finally said, hoping that with enough urgency in his voice she would
listen to him.
“And what, exactly, am I supposed to go home to?” She asked him.
“Your family, your friends.”
“My sister was the only family I had left. And you saw what the
wolves did to her. As for friends, I have never cared much for having friends,
they either get in my way, or take advantage of my trust.” Hero could see
the vileness in her face when she spoke of the wolves, and of the people
who had wronged her in the past.
“What about your parents?” Hero asked. He knew he was not going
to be able to talk her into going back to town, no matter how much he tried.
But still, he thought he would give it another attempt.
“My parents are dead, too,” Marylou said, without looking up this
time. She stared at the fire while she spoke, tears glistening in her eyes,
“The wolves have killed everyone in my family. They are looking for
something, Hero, I don’t know what it is, but it is the only conclusion I can
come to. Now that I know there is more than one, it is going to be harder to
kill them. But I am going to kill them, Hero. I need to kill them.”
“Marylou, what you need to do is go back to Broken Straw, bury
your sister the proper way, and then try to make a life for yourself,” Hero
tried to shrug off the part about her family. He didn’t know if he was trying
to keep her safe, or simply keep her out of the way. He had never worked
with a partner before, he had always gone solo, but he didn’t want to start
working with a partner now. . . no matter how her silhouette looked from
across the fire. “You need to forget all that happened before you get
swallowed up in it. Or worse, swallowed by a wolf.”
She didn’t respond to him right away. Instead, she seemed to
contemplate exactly what it was he was telling her, and maybe she was even
making a decision. A few minutes passed before she finally seemed to make
up her mind, and she stood up. And, partly to Hero’s amazement, and partly
to his horror, she walked directly around the fire and sat next to him.
Marylou sat on Hero’s right side and brought up her right hand
placing it gently on Hero’s left cheek. Slowly, but firmly, she turned his head
away from the campfire until they were staring into one another’s eyes. Her
green eyes locked on his blue, and she wouldn’t let him look away. She kept
her hand on his cheek, and leaned in closer to him, all the while keeping her
eyes fixed on his. Their noses were almost touching when she finally spoke
to him.
“No, Hero,” Marylou instructed in a level toned whisper, “What we
need, is a plan of how to find and then kill these bastard wolves. And I think
I have one.”
13- The Wolf Camp

The trip to the wolf camp was even more silent than the trip they
had made to the boss’s house. The daylight had all but gone, and the wolves
traveled with their excellent night sight in the direction of their sheep
grazing land. No one spoke on this trip, not even Captain.
The moon, just coming over the trees, was a quarter full, making the
rest of the world mostly blind to the night, but the wolves continued on.
Past a stream that was not more than a trickle, away from the human town,
around small thickets, up some slopes, and down others. It was on their
decent down the final slope they finally began smelling the sheep they kept
at the bottom of the gorge.
The sheep were sleeping while the wolves walked through the
grazing land. A land covered with five acres of luscious grass, keeping the
sheep constantly fed. On one end of the five acres was a waterfall which
dropped into a deep pool at the bottom, the water source for not only the
sheep but for the wolves as well. The wolves had made it, with a little help
from their boss, where the sheep could not get out of the steep valley.
There was a man made fence across the only two openings, the first opening
on the cliff side where the wolves just came from, and the other fence
across the opening leading to the wolf camp.
At the time the fence was built, it was built as a way to block the
sheep from escaping. Captain had believed they had kept secret the
location of the wolves who now lived beyond it. He had been debating with
himself the entire journey whether or not it was time for them to pack up
and leave this area.
When the wolves finally jumped the fence, entering their camp,
Captain still hadn’t come to a decision on the matter. He figured he would
do what they did in most situations in which he could not come to a decision
on his own, he would let the pack decide.
Immediately following jumping the fence and entering the camp,
Sergeant broke in front of Captain and turned on him.
“What exactly are we supposed to do now?” Sergeant snarled. The
hair on his neck was standing on end, and the fire behind him cast shadows
making him look like a demon.
Captain did not feel obligated to answer him, so he did not. Instead
he side-stepped around Sergeant and trotted across the compound to greet
Maverick and Dante with a raised head. They returned the same greeting
and went back to their preparations of dinner.
“Answer me, Captain. Or are you a coward?” asked Sergeant, still
snarling.
Snarls and Baldran entered the camp not far behind the lead wolves,
bounding in and checking on the meal being prepared. A long day on the
hunt, and they were ready for the sheep the other wolves had been
cooking. The wolves, though not able to use their paws to light a fire, could
steal fire from men if they grabbed a log just right with their jaws. Then, if
they continued to constantly monitor the fire, they were able to keep the
fire going without having to restart the fire multiple times a day like most
humans. That is why there was always at least one animal left at camp,
someone was always able to keep the sheep safe, and keep the fire burning.
The wolves used to eat every meal raw, but after tasting cooked meat, that
is the way they now preferred their meals.
“Peace, Sergeant,” spoke Maverick. He was always the peacemaker
of the group, attempting to keep the wolves from quarrelling among
themselves.
“Bite it, Maverick, you have no knowledge of what happened today.”
“That do be true,” replied Maverick in a quiet voice, “but there is
nothing that cannot be fixed by us talking it through.”
“He has us working an impossible job,” Sergeant continued, trying to
explain his current vileness. Even though he was upset, Maverick’s quiet
tones were still soothing to him and he wanted now to justify himself in
order to stay angry. “And if we fail this job, not only are we not going to get
paid, but we will lose however many sheep this human sees fit. It is time for
us to go back to the wild,” this last part directed at Captain, “if we continue
on this path, it will see us nothing more than a lapdog for a human.”
Sergeant had spoken this as if being a lapdog for a human was the
worst possible outcome. Some of the other wolves agreed to this, while
others had spoken in hushed voices quite frequently about trying to coexist
with humans. This solution was never fully accepted because of wolves like
Sergeant and Dante who believed there was only one of two possibilities if
this happened. They would either be lapdogs for the humans, or they would
be hunted for sport, the way deer, rhinos and lions were now being hunted.
Thus, they often spoke that the best solution was to quit working for the
humans and return back to the way their wild ancestors had always
intended them to be.
“It is true,” said Baldran, turning away from the meal the others
were preparing. This shocked most of the wolves, as Baldran usually sided
with whichever side was against Sergeant. Every vote, every time, he would
take Captain’s side, and never Sergeant’s. “We have no way to win this
scenario.”
It was just now that Flint limped into the camp. This completely
took the wolves, who had remained in camp that day, off guard. Dante and
Maverick stared, as Flint limped in between them all, and finally flopped
himself on the ground in front of the fire. The light the fire emitted was just
enough so the wolves could see the fresh blood leaking from his wound.
“What bloody happened to him?” Dante demanded.
“You see?” Sergeant’s anger was rising, and Captain had yet to speak
to defend himself. “This ‘Hero’ human the boss has us hunting, is stronger
than we all anticipated. He is more than just a thorn in our side like the
other hunters have been, he is stronger, and he has a strong loyalty with the
girl we are supposed to be bringing to the boss. We had him cornered, we
had him beaten, and then the raven haired girl came out of the woods and
surprise attacked us from behind!”
Dante and Maverick both turned to Captain. They knew Captain’s
nose was the strongest of any wolf they had ever met, and were surprised
this human girl was able to get the drop on him. But even with them turning
and staring at him, Captain still did not speak to defend himself, or correct
Sergeant in anything he was saying.
“And now,” Sergeant continued, his voice growing louder with
confidence now that he knew Captain was not going to interrupt him. “Now
she travels with Hero. She fights alongside him, and we have to kill him, and
not harm her. It was Hero that tore open Flint with his weapon, and it was
the girl who crushed Snarls’ voice box. Snarls cannot even talk now.”
This time Dante and Maverick turned to look at Snarls, and took his
silence as confirmation that what Sergeant said was true. Baldran also
turned and looked at Snarls with surprise, he hadn’t even realized this
usually talkative wolf had been very, and completely, silent since the time of
the fight. The sudden realization Flint was not the only one injured shocked
Baldran enough to take his mind off of the sheep cooking over the fire, and
he too gave Sergeant his full attention.
“If we hurt the raven haired girl in any way,” Sergeant quoted, “the
boss will cut our price on Hero in half. If she gets killed, not only will he not
pay us, but he will take as many sheep away from us as he sees fit to pay our
debt in killing the girl.”
“No one owns us like that,” Dante said growing angry. “He does not
own us, to prove it, we should finally kill him!”
“I already thought of that, and it won’t work,” Sergeant answered,
“If it would have worked, I would have already done it while we were in his
house. But not only does he know all of our names, he also knows where
our camp is. Not to mention his house is well protected, it would take an
assault of all of us in our best health just to get to him without losing our
own lives.”
As the talk finally ran out on Sergeant, there was a long silence as all
the wolves now stared at the fire. They had been staring at the fire for quite
a while, the only sound coming from any of them was Flint’s soft whimper,
before Captain finally decided to talk.
“We have a choice, now,” he said. All of the wolves, even Sergeant,
turned to him to listen to what he had to say. A leader, Captains father had
often told him, is not someone who leads when the livestock is guarded, but
also someone who is respected when there is no livestock left. This was
spoken to him in a time before they began working for the human.
“We actually have two choices to make. The stars are clear, and the
moon is quarter, the nights are too dark to hunt. And even if we did hunt,
we may injure the girl. So, that being said, the first choice is the most
important choice in my opinion. We need to decide what to do with Flint.”
All the wolves turned and looked at Flint who was still lying next to the fire,
and had not spoken at all other than the soft whimpers occasionally coming
from him. “Our human boss will not give us the human medicines and
medical attention we need to save him. I fear he is going to die, and he is
probably going to die very soon. If we watch him closely, however, and
leave him at the camp for the next few missions, he may survive, but the
chances are very grim. If he does survive, then we will be back at full
strength, if barely.”
The wolves looked back and forth at one another. None of them had
ever been injured before, but they knew if Captain said something like this
about one of their brothers, then it must be true. For one of them to be
injured bad enough they may die meant Hero must be a very dangerous
opponent. Captain carried on in the other wolves’ silence.
“Next we need to decide exactly what we are going to do, not only
about this job, but about the fact a human knows where we live and who we
are. We have been able to survive because the humans do not know about
us. We have a lot of sheep stored here, though, and I have a feeling if we
leave, we will not be able to take all our sheep with us,” a murmur arose
from the wolves in the camp, sheep were their money. Without the sheep,
they would have to go to the wild in order to survive. “I fear, brothers, the
answer to what we are going to do with this current job, is also going to
determine what we are going to have to do to guarantee our safety and the
safety of all wolves is continued. We need to discuss all our options, and
then we are going to vote on what we should do.”
Over their meal of roasted sheep, the wolves spoke in varying
degrees of passion about what should be done. It finally came down to
them only having two solutions that would work. Both solutions involved
leaving their camp, but at different times.
The first was immediately cutting ties with everything and everyone
involved in their current situation. The second involved continuing on their
job, waiting at their camp long enough to attempt saving everything they
had worked so hard to gain. The wolves, as Captain feared, seemed to be
split right down the middle. Finally, after it seemed they had discussed
every possible outcome, Captain spoke.
“Brothers, it is time we voted on this very important matter.”
“There is no reason to vote,” Sergeant spoke up, “there is only one
of these solutions that will work. There is no need to waste our time voting
on it.”
“No,” corrected Captain, “We must vote to ensure we are making
the right decision. And as is usual in our wolf law, I will only vote if we need
a tie-breaker. There are six of you, so we will see where the votes end up.
Sergeant, I think I know where your vote lies.”
“Of course,” Sergeant barked, “The rest of you are either voting with
me, or against me.”
“What is your vote, Dante?” Captain asked, ignoring the short
diatribe from Sergeant.
“I vote with Sergeant.”
“And your vote, Maverick?”
“I vote against Sergeant,” Maverick spoke in his soft tone.
“Snarls, your vote?” Captain asked the injured wolf.
Snarls stood from where he was sitting, and went and stood next to
Sergeant.
“I take that as a vote for Sergeant,” Captain stated, “Please nod your
head if that is correct.”
Snarls nodded his head.
“Ok, next is Baldran.”
“I vote against Sergeant,” Baldran spoke the words confidently, but
Captain could smell the small wafts of fear drifting up from him. Most of the
wolves did wear fear when they disagreed with Sergeant, but usually not
Baldran. This only meant, Captain was sure, Baldran feared the intensity
with which Sergeant was speaking earlier, and thought the often
unpredictable wolf would do something that would be just that,
unpredictable.
“That makes the vote three with Sergeant, and two against,” Captain
said, tallying the count. “This makes your vote very important, Flint, and I
know you are not well right now, but try to make this decision as if you
were.” Captain said this to Flint hoping the wolf would side against
Sergeant, leaving him the final tie-breaking vote to vote against Sergeant as
well. A move he hoped would give the wolves a better chance at life.
But before Flint had the chance to lift his head to answer, Sergeant
did the unpredictable thing all the wolves were waiting for him to do.
Sergeant lunged at Flint from his seated position and grasped Flint’s neck in
his powerful jaws. As he did so, the other two wolves with his vote, Dante
and Snarls, lunged at Flint as well.
Snarls held Flint’s legs down while Dante plunged his snapping jaw
into the gash in Flint’s side where Hero had originally cut him with his blade.
The scene was horrific as three giant wolves devoured a fourth on his
deathbed. Flint, in his weakened condition, did not put up any fight, he only
laid there and let them kill him.
 As the three wolves turned back to Captain, no shame in their eyes
or in their scents, Captain wondered if Flint was even alive when the attack
first took place. And he found himself wondering if the first blow from
Sergeant killed his friend, or if it was the combined effort of the three
wolves.
“Now his vote won’t matter,” said Sergeant smugly. “Which means
your vote will not matter either, Captain. According to our wolf law, you
only vote if there is a tie, and since it is three to two, there is no tie, and we
will go with my plan. In the meantime, I think you need to start considering
your role as leader, and lead us more effectively. Even the boss said we
should do what wolves would do to Flint, I should not have had to take the
initiative.”
Captain just stood and stared at the three, as if he were in shock.
The truth of the matter was that he was trying to find a way to regain
control in his democracy which was now three wolves against three wolves.
As hard as he tried, Captain could not find an easy solution.
“With the six of us,” continued Sergeant, “and all of us able to fight,
we will be able to follow through with this plan and make it succeed. I don’t
care how strong this Hero thinks he is, or how strong his ties are to this
raven haired girl, that will no longer matter!”
Captain, now staring up at the quarter moon, was not so sure.
14- A Plan

The plan was a simple one, as are most plans when they are first
discussed. To find the wolves, they needed to zero in on the things the
wolves would need in order to survive. The wolves needed a supply of food,
a fresh supply of water, and shelter. In the case of the wolves, they needed
these three things to be far enough away from human detection that the
wolves would not be found out, while at the same time close enough to the
town of Broken Straw to be able to constantly be in and around the town.
Then, after they found the wolves, they would watch them from a
distance. Hero and Marylou would gather as much information as possible
before attacking. Thus, enabling them to have the element of surprise, and
giving them the ability to choose the attacking place best suiting their
needs. They wanted a place where they could either surround the wolves
(like on a bridge or narrow trail) or a place they could back the wolves into a
corner (like against a cliff).
The last part of the plan was the attack itself. They needed to be
ready to fight hard, and deal as much damage as they could in a short
amount of time. For this, they both determined an ambush would work
best.
“You have to carry a knife, Marylou.”
“I’m perfectly capable with my bow-staff.”
“Yes, I know you are perfectly capable,” Hero said in measured
tones, “but you need something for close range. Besides, with a knife you
could easily kill one of the wolves with a close quarters attack. Best case
scenario, we ambush the wolves, and during the initial ambush we can both
kill a wolf, then we instantly change the odds.”
“I’ll think about it,” Marylou grumbled.
They also discussed what to do if in their reconnaissance they found
one of the wolves walking by themselves. To this, they determined it would
be best to take the wolf down, and then maybe the other wolves would
come looking for the one missing. And just maybe they would come looking
one by one, creating an opportunity to ambush each wolf individually.
“And if that doesn’t happen?”
 “Then we go back to plan A, and corner the entire pack.”
“Hero, I really think we should talk about what I suggested earlier.”
“It is not going to happen, Marylou.” Hero said with vehemence.
“Don’t you see, it is the best way to. . .”
“It is not up for discussion, Marylou,” Hero interrupted. “There will
be no more talk of you sacrificing yourself to the wolves.”
“Hero, if you were in my situation, you would want to do the same
thing,” Marylou persisted. “I don’t have any family left, my sister was the
last of my family and now she’s gone too. Let me go in, alone, with my bow-
staff. You hide until they have me surrounded, and then you attack with
your knives. It is the best way, Hero.”
“At most, I would be able to take down two wolves before they
realized I was there. And by that time, you will have already been eaten.
And then, we won’t know what will happen to the rest of the wolves
because I will be severely outnumbered. And if we are talking about only
being able to take down two wolves, we might as well do my plan. At least
that way you stay alive, and odds are more in our favor.”
“I think you underestimate your ability and speed with a knife,”
Marylou said.
“I don’t think you understand how much nonsense you are talking,”
Hero countered.
“Can we just focus on finding the wolves?” Marylou asked, “And
then we can plan our attack after we find them.”
“We will focus on finding them as soon as you stop talking all this
rubbish about sacrificing yourself!”
Marylou stood up, and stalked off.

*****

Finding the wolves was harder than they anticipated. There were no
trails, there were no prints, and there was no scat. Without those three
things, they had to rely on narrowing down the possibilities of where the
wolves could be by food source, water supply, and shelter. This being the
most difficult way to find them, because the forest was so vast.
Hero and Marylou never did determine the exact plan of attack they
would take once they found the wolves, and they never spoke about it
again, either. Their only concern was in locating where the wolves would be
hiding out. At least, that is all they focused on at first. After more than a
week of searching, finding the wolves was starting to become more
hopeless.
All of their time was spent in searching, and not once did they go
back into the town of Broken Straw. They lived off the land, and tried to
stay out of sight from other humans as well. They didn’t know why they did
this exactly, but somewhere deep down, they both figured the less time they
spent around other humans, the more likely it would be they would finally
find a trail left by the wolves.
Hero was growing more discouraged every day. At first he just
predicted, but now he knew, the first trail he had followed out of town from
the wolf with the white paw had been set there as a trap. The trail had led
him into the forest for the wolves to corner and attack him. He didn’t want
to believe it, but he knew with his expert tracking skills, he would have
found another trail by now.
Marylou had done the math to figure out that with the size of the
wolves, if they ran at a jog, they could cover three times the distance a
human could cover in the course of one day. And, as much as it frustrated
Hero, Marylou was able to stay positive that eventually they would find a
wolf den. She kept trying to convince Hero that if they continued
monitoring the status of the wildlife, they would soon notice a pattern of an
area that had less prey creatures. Once they found that area, they would
know they grew close to the wolves’ hunting ground.
Hero, was not so sure. It had been more than a week, and they had
yet to find a place matching Marylou’s suggestion. They had found parts of
the forest with less creatures, but every one of those spots they could
explain away. Either lack of water, lack of food, or over hunting by humans,
would explain away the reasons of no wildlife.
“What good does it do us,” Hero was saying, “If we finally get that
storm, and we don’t have any wolves to sneak up on?”
“Being negative will not help us,” Marylou replied lightheartedly.
“You keep saying how you hope it will rain, and you hope it is not as
sunny tomorrow, and all this rubbish. You hope for it, but we don’t need it
yet.”
“If it rains, Hero, the wolves will not be able to smell us as well.”
 “Yes,” Hero said, “and the ground will be damp so we will not make
as much noise. I know all this, Marylou, but there is no sense in hoping for
rain when we don’t know where the wolves are.”
“Then maybe we need to sit down and take a break in order to
regroup.”
“Sitting and regrouping will not help us find them,” Hero was tired of
looking. The last few days had him very discouraged. Not to mention,
Marylou’s ever increasing positive attitude was grinding on every last nerve
he had. So much so, he was about ready to agree to her sacrificing herself
to the wolves so they would have a jump on them.
“Look, Hero,” Marylou said, pointing to some huckleberry bushes.
“We can rest here next to the berry bushes. We can pick and eat some
berries, and pick enough for tonight to go with our dinner. While we pick,
we can think about what our best move should be.”
Relenting, Hero knelt next to a huckleberry bush and started picking
some of the berries. For every three berries he put in his side pouch, he put
one in his mouth. The counting of the berries kept him from thinking about
the needle in a haystack hunt they were on.
Marylou had knelt at a bush just across from him, and it appeared
she was doing the same thing. Three berries in her pouch, and one in her
mouth. Hero wondered if she was counting them the same as him, or if she
just happened to be doing the same thing as him. He sighed to himself and
looked up at the trees around them.
There was a giant oak tree just in front of them. The oak was
massive and had dark, almost black bark. The trunk of the oak was larger
than Hero could put his arms around, but just up about five feet off the
ground there was a split in the oaks trunk, and two massive branches each
towered up and above him coming out of the tree. The split in the oak’s
trunk made Hero think.
“Marylou, how many splits come off the river?”
“Two, that I know of,” she said. “One split is above the village. This
is how we get the water for the town of Broken Straw. It used to just be a
seasonal flow, but we dug it out and made it to where the water will flow to
us year round. This way we don’t have to continually travel to the river to
gather water.”
“Yes, and the second split?”
 “The second split is about five miles past the town.”
“Where does this split go?”
“This split is more difficult to follow,” Marylou explained. “This split
comes off the main river, and then goes about a mile through a deep ravine,
until finally it goes underground. I know it comes out another ten miles or
so downstream inside another ravine, but I am not sure where.”
“Is the first ravine or the second ravine the one I’ve heard stories of
people jumping over?”
“The first ravine. It is very narrow, maybe only five feet across at
some places. You could easily jump over it. Why do you ask?”
“Because,” Hero said patiently, waiting for Marylou to catch up to
where he already was in his thought process. “Because, Marylou, if this
ravine is that narrow, then it is solid rock. And if it is solid rock. . .”
“Then there would not be any wolf tracks,” finished Marylou, picking
up on what Hero was thinking. “But, Hero, there is no wildlife there. There
is nothing for the wolves to eat if that is where they live. For miles in every
direction there is just rocks. There are trees growing in the cracks between
the rocks, but that is all. There isn’t even enough dirt to sustain grass.”
“It has to be right, Marylou,” Hero was growing excited, “It is one of
the only places we haven’t checked. And it explains why we have not been
able to find any wolf tracks. It also explains why the wolves have been able
to avoid the townspeople so effectively. You just said yourself the place the
ravine is narrow enough to jump is about seven miles from town. People
may go as far as the ravine to jump it, but they won’t continue on from
there, it is too far away from the town.”
“But the water is too far away, Hero,” Marylou argued. “The water
is so deep in the ravine that you can’t get it out.”
“You said the water goes underground, maybe it comes out
somewhere.”
“It does come out, I’ve already told you. It comes out miles and
miles downstream.”
“No, Marylou,” Hero said, “I mean maybe it comes out somewhere
else we don’t know about. And then after it comes out of the ground, it
goes back into the ground and comes out again at this spot ten miles further
downstream.”
“I guess it’s possible,” Marylou said cautiously.
 “We don’t really have any better leads, Marylou, I say we check it
out.”
“Ok, Hero, we will check it out,” Marylou relented.
Hero was already standing from his huckleberries, and pulling the
drawstring closed on his pouch. As he was talking, he had stopped eating
the berries, but had not stopped picking, his pouch was full of the tiny tart
berries, and he was more than ready to continue on their journey.
“Hero, if you are right, we need to be ready for anything,” Marylou
said.
“Let’s get there first, Marylou. If we start now, we can be there
before dusk.”

*****

From this point the two traveled very swiftly. For the last week they
had been walking slowly, mostly with their heads down, looking for clues on
the forest floor. Now they traveled at a pace between a brisk walk and a
jog. They were still being careful, watching the surrounding woods for
dangers, but at the same time, they were in a hurry to get where they were
going.
Hero knew that if the area around the ravine were as desolate as
Marylou promised, they would only be eating berries tonight. He hoped it
wasn’t that desolate, but he knew this wasn’t the first time a suggestion
from Marylou turned out to be helpful down the road.
They ended up reaching the ravine long before sundown. Once they
reached the ravine they studied the two to three miles of it for over an hour,
trying to find the safest place to cross. There were places much narrower
than others, but some of these places looked very unstable on the other
side.
Hero had imagined that when the river went underground, the
ravine would end, and this would be an easy place to cross. He was, much
to his chagrin, wrong on this fact. Actually, the place the river went
underground looked even more treacherous to cross. The walls were
steeper and further apart, and there was no water in the bottom to hide
how sharp and hard the rocks were.
Where the river was seemed even more dangerous at the bottom of
the ravine than where the river was not. The river was moving so fast, and
the walls of the canyon were so steep, that if you missed your jump and
somehow survived the three hundred yard drop, you would still drown. The
water was running swift enough it would wash you into the underground
caverns before you had enough time to take a few breaths and regain your
baring.
“Are you going to stare at the river all day, or are you coming?”
This was Marylou yelling to him. Yelling was a necessity because the
sound of the river below sounded like a continuing roar of thunder. He
turned and was going to yell he didn’t know where the safest place to cross
was, when he realized she was already on the other side of the river, smiling
and waving to him. Showing him up, yet again, Hero grumbled under his
breath, and tried to find where she crossed.
“Over there,” she was yelling over the crashing of the water below
them, “That big slab of rock elevated right at the bend in the river. If you
jump from that spot, you don’t even need much of a running start, the
elevation propels you to the other side.” Hero quickly saw what she was
talking about. “And then, on the way back, there is the exact opposite at
this next bend.”
As she was yelling to him, Hero was jumping across the river. He
landed awkwardly and rolled to a stop on the gray rock. Awkward, but
across the river just the same. Where he came to a stop, he looked down,
and saw something that startled him.
“Marylou, are you bleeding?”
“No, why?”
Marylou walked over to him, and saw the blood on the rock Hero
was standing on. It wasn’t fresh blood, but it was a good spot of blood,
almost as large as her hand.
“Hero,” Marylou said, putting her hand on his shoulder, “do you
think that is blood from one of the wolves we injured in the fight?”
“It may be, Marylou,” Hero told her, “but there is only one way to
find out for sure.”
They started making their way across the rocks on this side of the
river. Hero knew they were on the right track, and he loosened two of the
knives on his belt. It was better to be safe than sorry, but he knew they
were heading into a bad situation.
 With the blood trail to follow, it made it easier for them to find their
way along the rocks. There may have been no footprints to follow, but there
were drops of blood leading them on their way. They followed the blood for
half a mile before they reached a dead end.
“I thought you said there was no growth on all these rocks because
there wasn’t enough dirt,” Hero said mockingly, as they stared at a wall of
shrubs preventing them from passing.
“I didn’t think there was,” Marylou said, confused.
“Well, obviously there is enough dirt here to grow these shrubs, now
if we can only find a way past them.” Hero stood, looking at the shrubs
trying to figure a way to get into them, while Marylou walked the shrubs up
and down.
“Hero, it looks like there is nothing on the other side of these
shrubs,” came Marylou’s voice from the ground. She had laid down and was
trying to see through them at the base.
“What do you mean ‘nothing’.”
“Just that, there are rocks, and then a little dirt, and then these
shrubs, and then there is nothing,” Marylou said, reporting on what she
saw. “It is as if there is a tremendous drop off on the other side of these
bushes.”
“Well I guess that eliminates us jumping over them,” came Hero’s
tongue in cheek response. Marylou just glared at him, and Hero decided to
keep his next attempt at humor to himself.
“So if the wolves went through the shrubs,” Marylou continued, now
speaking to herself, “then there must be something on the other side. There
must be a trail at some point, and that trail must descend down, and very
sharply.”
Hero was picking up on her thinking and he started walking up and
down the shrubs with his head down, looking for a place to cut through the
shrubs where there was a trail on the other side. After a few moments, he
finally found the trail he was looking for.
There was a spot where there was dirt on the other side of the
shrubs, which quickly disappeared when he followed it with his eyes.
Meaning there had to be some sort of trail there. When he stepped closer
to the bushes, he realized something he hadn’t noticed before.
There was a narrow gap between the bushes you would only see if
you were at the exact place Hero was standing. A gap just wide enough to
fit through. The shrubs grew in this spot creating an alcove, if you looked up
or down the line from either side, or from the front, you wouldn’t see the
small indentation. But, from where Hero was standing, he was in the alcove
and it lined up perfectly with the trail.
“Marylou, I found the trail,” he called to her, and she hurried over to
see where he was.
Marylou was right behind Hero when he stepped through the bushes
and started down the trail in front of her. When she did get situated on the
trail, she looked around to take in exactly where she was and what was in
her surroundings.
And what Marylou saw, took her breath away.
15- A Rainstorm

What Marylou saw when she gained her baring and looked down the
slope, was the most sheep she had seen in her life. Not just twenty or thirty,
but hundreds of sheep. She estimated all the sheep were gathered in an
area about six acres in size. The amount of sheep the wolves were raising
solved the problem of food, and explained why they had never found any
sign of wolves in the middle of the forest.
The other thing she noticed almost immediately was there were
fences holding the sheep in. She didn’t know if this meant humans had once
lived in this small valley, or if humans were involved in helping the wolves.
Either way, the fences kept the sheep from venturing out of the gorge. If
there was a way to keep the sheep in, this meant the wolves had stayed in
this area for a long amount of time.
Next, she noticed Hero was right about the water. There was a small
waterfall coming out of the side of the gorge, trickling down into a pool at
the bottom of the valley. The pool was where the wolves were getting their
water, and how they watered the sheep. Hero had been right about
everything, and she looked up at him as he cautiously walked down the path
in front of her.
Hero noticed everything Marylou had, adding only one thing. The
sky was starting to grow darker, and it wasn’t yet time for the sun to be
going down. This only meant the storm Marylou had been hoping for just
showed up, and it showed up at the best possible time. It would not be long
now before the rain started coming down.
Hero turned and looked back at Marylou only to notice she was
watching him as well. He smiled at her, and made hand signals that he
wanted her to follow him down the trail. Then he pointed to a loan bush on
the side of the trail. After he pointed at the bush, he made a fist, and then
he pointed at the bush again and made his hand imitate people talking. He
hoped she understood he was telling her they would stop at the bush and
discuss their plan.
Marylou caught on instantly, and continued following Hero down
the trail. By the time they reached the bush, though, the rain already
started falling. Hero began speaking to her in a barely audible whisper.
“Are you ready?” was the first thing he asked.
“I’m ready,” Marylou replied, patting the staff she had been using as
a walking stick to get down the steep slope.
“I’ve been looking around the valley as we’ve been coming down,”
Hero explained to her. “It seems the only logical place for the wolf camp is
on the other side of the sheep, past the fence across the valley.” He said
this pointing at the fence on the other side of the valley, and then he looked
at Marylou waiting for a response. She never said anything, so he continued
talking.
“While we cross the valley floor is when we are going to be most
vulnerable. We will stand out like sore thumbs in the middle of all those
sheep. So we must crouch down, and move at a brisk pace so the wolves
don’t see us.” Hero thought for a moment before continuing, “by the time
we are on the valley floor, the rain will have had enough time to saturate
the ground and eliminate our scent. But we will have to move fast, and not
disrupt the sheep. The sheep will tell on us as soon as anything.”
“Ok,” was all Marylou said, “let’s do this.”
Down the slope the two continued until they reached the valley
floor. At the valley floor was their first obstacle, which they easily climbed
over. The fence was already damp and dripping from the rain, but it was
still an easy climb. Once the fence was behind them, they were in the
middle of the sheep. Going slowly at first, making sure they wouldn’t startle
the sheep.
After the first few yards, Hero realized the sheep were used to
seeing wolves the size of horses, so they would not be spooked by a human.
After he realized this, the two started moving faster among the sheep,
keeping an eye on their target on the other side of the valley. All the while,
Hero’s head was on a swivel, making sure he did not see movement coming
from anywhere else in the valley. He did not want to be ambushed again.
It only took about ten minutes for the humans to make it across the
valley, in a crouch, darting between the sheep. There was only one point,
when they were in the middle of the valley, surrounded by particularly large
sheep, that they almost lost their way. But they kept moving, and they
quickly saw the fence, and continued on.
Once they reached the second fence, they quickly crawled over it as
easily as the first, only this time they stayed low to the ground. Hero put a
knife in each of his hands, and Marylou held her bow-staff at the ready.
Slowly, and trying to ignore the rain that had their hair damp and dripping in
their face, the humans snuck into the wolf camp.
Somewhat to their relief, but completely to their frustration, they
found the wolf camp empty. There was sign of wolves everywhere, prints
on the dirt, a left over meal, and a fire recently extinguished from the rain.
As Marylou made her way around the extinguished fire, she gasped and put
a hand to her mouth.
Hero came in a run to her side, looking down to see what had made
her gasp.
There, lying on the ground in front of them, was the carcass of a
fallen wolf. Hero recognized instantly the wolf had been killed by a wolf
attack. The gashes on the wolf looked just like the gashes on Marylou’s
sister’s back in the village. There was blood surrounding the wolf’s torso,
and severe bite marks on the wolf’s throat and back paws.
“What kind of creatures are we dealing with?” Marylou said in a
hushed tone.
“I don’t know, Marylou, but I was not expecting to find this.”
“They kill their own?” she asked Hero, not really expecting an
answer. “If they kill their own, they are more ruthless than we expected.”
Hero didn’t know how to respond to this, so he did not. Instead, he
walked around the camp, trying to learn anything and everything he could
from observing the camp. Unfortunately, there was not a lot for him to
learn by looking around, and the rain they hoped for was quickly washing
away the evidence from anything he might have found.
“One thing, is they are also more sophisticated than we realized,” he
finally said to Marylou.
“What do you mean?”
“Well look here,” Hero said, pointing to the fire. “It looks like they
have harnessed the control of fire. Not to mention it looks like these sheep
parts have been cooked, which means they are cooking their meals. All of
this doesn’t even begin to take into account the sheep farming going on
right outside this camp.”
“But where are the wolves?” asked Marylou nervously and
suspiciously.
 “I don’t know, but I think we should leave before they come back.”
“I agree with you,” said Marylou. “I don’t want to be here when
they do, we would be cornered in this camp, and we would be on their turf.
We should take what we know, and camp about half a mile from here, and
make a plan of attack.”
Finally, Hero thought to himself, she is talking sense. But what he
said was, “You’re right, Marylou, let’s get out of here.”
“Before we go, Hero, is there any way to determine how many
wolves there are?”
“I’m not sure, and the rain has washed away most of their tracks. . .
but I would guess at least one, if not two, more than what we dealt with in
the clearing. One of them would have to stay at the camp and look after the
fire. I think they are too sophisticated to leave the fire unattended while
they were out of camp. So that would make six or seven of them left, taking
into account the dead one lying there.”
The two started out of the camp, careful to cover up the tracks they
made while in the camp so the wolves would not know they had been
there. Hero said he wouldn’t trust the rain to do this for them, because
there was no telling when it would stop. So Hero cut two fir branches and
they drug them to cover their own tracks. Once they were satisfied with
hiding the evidence of their intrusion, they made their way back across the
fence, and back into the sheep.
Marylou was rattling on about something or other behind Hero. It
was comforting to know she was there, while at the same time it was
bothering him she wouldn’t shut up. He was going to have to tell her she
needed to be quiet when they started up the other side, they didn’t want to
give away their position if the wolves suddenly started down the slope while
they were going up.
Actually, that is what concerned Hero the most. That the wolves
would be coming back down into the valley while they were exiting. There
was no place to hide on the trail going up the slope, which would leave the
humans wide open. Moreover, the wolves would have the high ground,
giving them a very distinct advantage in a fight. So, listening to Marylou
ramble on and on, Hero kept his eyes focused on the trail coming into the
valley.
He was more relaxed now, so he put his knives back in his belt, and
started pulling on the cord of his huckleberry sack. He finally got the knot
undone, and popped a huckleberry into his mouth, trying to both listen to
Marylou and ignore her at the same time. He was not interested in what
she was saying, but he didn’t want to miss any questions she asked him.
They were nearly halfway across the field when he attempted to toss
one of the huckleberries into his mouth. The toss went to the right, he lost
the berry for a second in the falling rain drops, and it ended up hitting him
just to the right of his lips. The huckleberry bounced off his face and
tumbled to the ground. Hero mumbled to himself about never being good
at sports, stooped to pick the berry up off the ground thinking it would still
taste the same.
In bending over, he saw something he was not prepared for. There
in front of him on the ground was a giant, white, wolf paw. Not a print on
the ground, but a paw, and that paw was connected to a wolf leg. And next
to that white wolf paw on the ground, was a black wolf paw.
Hero’s heart skipped a beat. Not only were these wolf paws, he had
seen this particular set of wolf paws before, and knew they were attached to
silver-gray legs. He instantly knew what mistakes they made while entering
the wolves’ valley, but there was no way to fix it now. He also knew, once
again, the wolves had him ambushed. Only this time, they had him
ambushed and all his weapons were sheathed. He had let down his guard
and he was going to regret it, maybe with his life.
Still hunched over, Hero had just enough time to scream a warning
to Marylou. . .
“WOLF!!!”
. . . Before six wolves attacked the two humans from all sides.
16- Sheep’s Clothing

Baldran had been watching the two humans for the past half hour.
He didn’t know how they got so close to the wolf camp, but he knew if they
were this close, they would find the valley before long. Right now he was
watching them walk back and forth along the ridge over the river, looking
for a place to cross.
Baldran was usually picked to be the lookout in the middle of the
day because of his fur coloring, dark gray with a few slashes of black. He
almost completely blended in with the slate landscape around the ridge, and
if he moved slowly enough, he was all but undetectable. He was even
undetectable at the short fifty yards he was away from the humans now. He
was not going to attack them, but had gotten closer in hopes of hearing
what they were saying.
He breathed slowly, and he breathed softly. He knew his coat
wouldn’t give him away, but he didn’t know how good the humans other
senses were. If they saw him now, it would be on, and Baldran wasn’t one
to be outnumbered. Plus, he didn’t know if the humans had any flying
weapons, arrows or spears, nor did he want to find out. Wolves had an
advantage at close quarters, and a distance of fifty yards gave a huge
advantage to the humans. So, he would just follow his orders: observe and
report.
Baldran’s slow and steady breathing suddenly caught in his throat. . .
The humans had found the way across the river. Worse yet, it
looked like the hunter had found blood. It had to be the blood of Flint, and
even if it wasn’t, the humans would believe it was, and they would search
this side of the river until they found what they were looking for. They were
closer now, maybe forty yards, Baldran had to move.
He slowly stood to a crouch, and crept along a shadow in the slate
where the rock formation had split. If he hurried, he could make it to the
brush, then down into the sheep valley, and into the wolf camp to warn the
other wolves.
After creeping along the crack in the slate, long enough to be out of
sight of the humans, Baldran rushed to the brush hiding the valley. Once
through the brush, he sprinted as hard as he could for the wolf camp. He
didn’t know how long it would be until the humans caught up to him, so he
wanted to give the wolves as much warning as possible.
Captain could tell by the look on Baldran’s face that the humans
were on their way, and after hearing what was happening, he rushed all the
wolves to their places. Baldran was relieved that even after a vote that
didn’t go his way, Captain was still able to take charge and get them ready as
swiftly as possible. The wolves needed a no-nonsense leader, and Captain
was that leader, even though the things Sergeant said made sense a lot of
the time.
Even with Baldran’s swift warning, the wolves were barely able to
get into position, wearing their sheep robes, when the human’s came
through the valley.
The humans walked right next to the six wolves, and didn’t even
notice they were there. At one point, Hero even stopped and looked
around, trying to see the other side of the valley, but could not because he
was in the center of the wolves. Baldran had held his breath, just knowing
they were about to be discovered. But they were not, and the humans
continued on, into the wolf camp.
“They are gone,” Captain spoke in a low growl, “let’s move out
before they come back.”
“No.” Sergeant barked.
“What do you mean, no?” Captain asked, confused. “You said, and
we voted, to go back into the wild. We need to escape, now, before they
come back. That was the plan.”
“They came into our home, this was not part of the plan,” Sergeant
spoke quickly, trying to rally support. “We ambush them here, and then we
change the plan so it takes care of all our problems. This is our opportunity
to save our sheep before we go back to the wild. I don’t care how much you
protest, Captain, the vote is still with me.”
“This is not the wolf way,” Captain insisted. “We sneak, we ambush,
we work together, and we triumph. We do not hide and then jump out of
hiding, pouncing on our prey without them knowing we are even there.
That is what a cat would do.”
If they weren’t already, all the wolves turned and looked at Captain.
Calling a wolf a cat was one of the worst insults you could make. It
appeared Captain had the wolves swayed into continuing with him out of
the valley, but it was too late. The humans were already coming out of the
wolf camp and back into the sheep valley.
“It’s too late,” Sergeant spoke, relieved and triumphant at the same
time. “Quick, don your sheep clothing, and as soon as they are in the middle
of us, we attack.”
The wolves, did as Sergeant said. They knew this may not be the
best tactic, but they also knew the argument between Captain and Sergeant
had lasted just long enough that they couldn’t follow any other path. They
also knew this new hunter named Hero was one of their greatest foe’s,
which made them ready to take nearly every advantage they could get. . .
whether or not Captain thought they were acting like cats. So they stood,
and they waited.
It didn’t take long before the humans passed Baldran on their way
out of the valley, he was the first of the six wolves they would pass. Again,
the humans went right through the middle of the herd of sheep, and again
they ended up being surrounded, unaware of the wolves on every side of
them.
Baldran held his ground and waited for Sergeant’s signal to attack.
It almost happened in slow motion. Hero tossed a berry into the air
and tried to catch it in his mouth. Baldran watched as the berry fell back
through the air, mixed with the raindrops slowly falling in a mist. The berry
bounced off one of his lips, and hit the ground right in front of Captain.
Baldran saw Hero bend over to pick up the berry, and then he saw
Hero freeze. He knew the human man recognized the feet sticking out of
the bottom of the sheep costume as those of a wolf. And even though
Sergeant had not yet given the signal, the time to act was now. Baldran
shucked off his sheep clothing in one motion, and with another motion
started a lunge.
To his surprise, Hero screamed, “WOLF!!!”
But scream, or no, Baldran was already lunging through the air at
Hero’s back.
17- Ambushed

“WOLF!!!”
Hero barely got the word out of his mouth before he felt the force of
a giant beast slamming into his back. He lurched forward from the force of
the animal, and crashed to the ground. It felt like a bear had landed on his
back, and was crushing him against the rain soaked grass. No, it felt like
what it was, a giant wolf with its paws on his shoulder blades. A giant wolf
with its giant muzzle just above the back of Hero’s neck. A giant wolf that
could kill him with one snap of his jaw.
A slimy warm ooze dripped on the back of Hero’s head. The warm
ooze contrasted sharply with the cold rain his hair was already soaked in. It
took until the moment drool started dribbling on his neck for Hero to
become scared. On this entire journey, up to this exact point, he had never
been scared, but he was now. The terror raced through his body, it
electrified him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He lay face
down in the grass and mud with a wolf’s front paws on his shoulder blades,
and the wolf’s back paws on his calves. All he could do was lay there and try
to prepare himself to be eaten.
And he would be eaten, too. He would be eaten alive. The wolf was
salivating, and all it would take is one quick bite and Hero would be dead.
Then what would happen? Marylou, of course. She would quickly be eaten
next. Hero didn’t even know how many wolves there were, five, six, maybe
even seven? But there was no way Marylou could defend herself against
that many wolves, not without him helping her. He had come all this way
and he was going to be eaten.
Hero let the fear and the terror settle over him. Jerry had been
right, the wolves did start hunting him after he started hunting the wolves.
If only he had paid better attention to what the people in the town had told
him. If only he had made Marylou go back to the town. If only he had not
let his guard down. He knew better, but it was all too late.
“Get your fat feet off of him!” Came Marylou’s scream from
somewhere behind him.
The wolf looked up, surprised at the banshee yell coming from
behind him out of the woman. The wolf’s head turn was right in rhythm
with Marylou’s bow-staff coming in the opposite direction, being swung like
a baseball bat. As Baldran looked up, the staff caught him right in the chin,
and sent the wolf flying off Hero.
As the wolf tumbled away, Hero did not waste any time in drawing
one of his long throwing knives and hurling it in the direction of the wolf.
The knife went just over the wolf’s upside down chest and sailed into the
heart of a sheep, killing it instantly. The sheep fell to its knees and then
came the rest of the way down, landing on the wolf below it.
“My precious sheep!” came the yell of another wolf from behind
them.
Hero looked up just in time to see this wolf lunging out from under a
blanket that looked just like a large sheep. The wolf was in midair when he
saw Marylou coming yet again from the corner of his eye. Marylou was
running at an angle toward Hero and the lunging wolf. At a full sprint, she
jammed her staff into the ground in front of her, the way a pole-vaulter
would, shooting her into the air. At the peak of the jump, she swung her
staff in a large arching circle, and brought it crashing down like a hammer on
the back of the lunging wolves head. The wolf was instantly knocked out,
but not dead.
“Maverick!” Came the yell of the first wolf who Hero had seen the
paws of. Surprisingly this wolf was still standing just in front of him, and had
not launched an attack. If it had, Hero would have been killed before
Marylou could have closed the distance. At the same time, he heard the
voice of another wolf.
“You think you are so special, Raven-Hair, with your human
weapons,” the large wolf snarled at her. “Let’s see how well you can do
fighting a wolf who knows you are coming.” Then the growl of yet another
wolf came from underneath another sheep shaped blanket. “Or better yet,
two wolves that know you are coming.” The growl of the other wolf turned
into a wheezing laugh that for some reason made Hero think of a Hyena.
“If you are so tough,” Marylou challenged, “then why don’t you just
bring it!” And then she looked over her shoulder and said to Hero, “I’ve got
these two, you take that one.” And she rushed at the two wolves egging her
on.
“Stand, Hero.” The first wolf told him, “I will fight you like a wolf, so
stand.”
Puzzled, Hero started to stand, he turned back on his stomach and
started to push himself up with his hands, when the wolf spoke again. Only
this time, the wolf didn’t speak to him.
“Unless you want to be known as a house cat for the rest of your life,
Dante, I suggest you don’t do what you are thinking,” the wolf said to yet
another wolf standing to Hero’s left. A sixth wolf Hero hadn’t even noticed.
A wolf that was slinking up on him, and could have easily killed him had the
first wolf not said anything. “And believe me, I will make sure no wolf ever
forgets how much like a house cat you really are.”
“You waste perfectly good opportunities, Captain,” Dante growled.
“I will not fight like a cat, Dante,” this time with acid in his voice.
The two wolves growled at each other, and Hero began to think the
wolves were going to fight one another instead of him. Dante made a
quarter circle to Captain, but as soon as he reached the other wolf, they
both turned and stared at Hero. Teeth bared, fur shackled, and eyes
blazing. After all, no matter how they felt about each other, they both
recognized Hero as the enemy.
“Now, Hero, we will fight like wolves.”
And it was on.
Without even having realized he had drawn them, Hero held a knife
in each hand. He felt their weight, and quickly decided against throwing
them. If he had, they may have struck and killed one of his attackers, but if
he missed, he would be short on knives. Instead, he feinted to his left, and
rolled to his right, planning on coming up fast at Dante’s side. But Dante
turned and stepped opposite, putting Hero directly in front of him.
Dante snapped and snarled, while Captain closed the gap. Hero had
to quickly roll backwards, lengthening the distance between them, to stay
out of reach of those gnarly fangs. The roll worked in getting him out of the
way, but it got him in the precarious position of being on his knees. Dante
noticed this immediately, and took a lunge at Hero’s chest. Hero saw the
lunge coming and rolled to his right, making Dante miss.
Captain tried to block Hero’s roll and force him back to Dante, but he
bounded too late. Hero saw the move miss, and when he came up from his
roll, he lunged at Captain, both knives extended out in front of him as he
pushed through the air like he was flying. Captain easily sidestepped the
lunge attack, and slashed his tail across Hero’s back.
As Hero sailed through the air, he felt Captain’s tail come down in
the middle of his back. Except it didn’t feel like a tail at all, it felt like a whip.
Hero knew the blow he took ripped his shirt open, and if it didn’t make him
bleed, he would have a swelled up welt. He didn’t let the pain distract him,
but added the counter-attack to what he knew about the wolves’ arsenal.
He finished his dive in a head tucked roll that brought him up to standing,
though it was with his back to the wolves. Regardless, he was out of range
of another tail whip.
As he turned back to face Captain and Dante, he looked over his
shoulder and saw Marylou still squaring off with the two wolves of her
choosing. And, not surprisingly, holding her own very well. He also noticed
one wolf was still knocked out, while the wolf who had been on his back,
was still lying face up struggling to get out from under the sheep on top of
him.
Captain and Dante suddenly looked ready to charge, and Hero
wondered what they were up to. He soon found out. First Captain, and
right on his heels was Dante, running full steam at Hero. Hero readied
himself for a full on blow, and was trying to figure out how to counter it,
when Captain rushed just to his right, blasting him across the midsection
with his tail. Just behind him was Dante, slashing a whip-like tail across
Hero’s face. Whirling around, still at full speed, Captain and Dante rushed
by him again, and Hero took two more whip blows to the face. A third time,
and Hero took a whip blow to the ribs and another blow to the face. The
two wolves whirled for a fourth pass, only this time, as Captain neared, Hero
hit the ground. He couldn’t think of any other way to avoid the blow, so he
just dropped to the ground. Captain sped by, and with Dante just behind
him, Hero stuck up his hand, clinching a knife in his fist. Dante’s tail whip
caught the knife in full force, cutting his tail open.
“My tail!” the beast howled in anger.
Hero quickly spun around in a squat looking for Captain, then
realizing the missed tail shot had caused the wolf to go into a spin. An off
balance spin sending Captain crashing into about five sheep, knocking them
all to the ground like bowling pins in a big confused pile.
Hero saw his opportunity to take down one of the two wolves. He
flipped the knife in his right hand with a quick toss, so he was holding the
blade. He took quick, but careful, aim at Captain and reared back his arm in
order to throw the knife. A heart shot would be very easy and very fatal
from this distance. But, before he could make his throw, an enraged Dante
came charging at him. This time snarling, and eyes deadlocked with Hero’s.
Hero knew he was on a collision course with the enraged wolf, and his knife
was in throwing position, the blade pointing at him, instead of in stabbing
position with the blade pointing away. Unrelenting in speed, the wolf still
charged.
Meanwhile, Marylou was blocking. The teeth lunges, the claw
gashes, and the tail whips were coming so fast all she had time to do was
block. Her staff was spinning in her hands so fast all it would take was one
off kilter blow, or one missed block, and she would lose her balance. Luckily
for her, though, she connected with every block, and the ground was such
that it was very easy to keep her footing. Yet as fast as she was blocking,
she felt the wolves were holding back for some reason.
Like they were attacking her fast enough to keep her completely
busy, but not attacking hard enough to want to cause her harm. She let the
thought drift along the outskirts of the void she was in while she
thoughtlessly blocked blow after blow after blow, never being able to
counter with a blow of her own.
Suddenly, both the wolves backed off slightly. Marylou rushed to try
and close the gap they just created, but the wolf that never spoke was now
running back at her. Marylou froze for a split second, and got ready to block
the attack. Only this time, instead of an attack coming high, the wolf went
low. The wolf took its entire body low, and tumbled in her direction.
Marylou had just enough time to jump over the wolf before it bowled her
over. A jump she knew would make her vulnerable to the other, larger,
wolf. She prepared herself for the force of the lunge that must be coming.
Only as she jumped, the collision never came. In fact, the collision
was never even attempted. Instead, she felt herself continue flying through
the air. Only not up, but backward in the direction she had just come from.
She was flying backward toward Hero and the other two wolves. She felt a
phenomenal wind driving into her, and as she stared in front of her, she
realized the wind was coming from the large wolf she was fighting against.
The wolf had its lips pursed like it was going to blow a bubble, only it blew
air instead. It was puffing her right off the ground in a gale force wind!
 Hero, eyes locked with Dante, stood his ground and waited for the
collision of the wolf and himself. Dante closed the gap in a rapid pace, and
once the gap was down to six feet, the wolf sprung to the air, aiming at
center mass. Hero saw the jump was coming at his chest, and he also saw
there was no way for him to get out of the way. So he dropped the knife in
his right hand, so the collision would not drive the point into him, while at
the same time bringing his left arm up in front of him. His left arm held his
knife up, point out, in front of his chest. The wolf saw the position change in
the last moment, and tried to spin to avoid the knife in mid-air. The spin
worked, and the wolf was able to kick off Hero with his front and hind legs at
the same time, shoving Hero back, while barely missing his knife.
Hero landed hard on his backside, about five feet from where he had
been standing. As sore as his rump was, where the wolf pushed off was
sorer and already starting to trickle blood in one spot. He couldn’t let that
distract him, though, so he rushed to his feet. He quickly noticed Captain
charging at him. And, like Dante, it was going to be different from a tail
attack. Captain was going to use his claws. Hero thought his only way out of
this one was going to be if he caught the wolf off guard, so he started
charging at Captain as Captain charged at him.
He had just made up the five feet he had lost, and was close enough
now to see the surprise in Captain’s eyes as they both charged at each
other. Hero was just about to lunge at Captain himself, with his final knife
drawn, ready for a mid-air knife/claw collision, when Marylou came hurtling
through the air, and landed right between them. Hero was able to hold up
his attack just in time, but Captain was not.
Captain’s front black paw, already extended in the charge meant for
Hero, connected with Marylou’s back, gashing down her flesh. The claws
went deep, all the way to the bone along the spine of her back, scratching
down her vertebrae and spinal cord. Marylou’s face was locked on Hero,
and he watched as it twisted into what was probably going to be a scream,
but then twisted into agony, and then she went completely white and fell to
the ground. Hero did scream, he didn’t know what he screamed, but he
yelled a wordless cry louder than he ever remembered screaming. Captain
cursed, though neither of the human’s heard it.
As Marylou fell face down on the damp grass of the valley floor,
everything went stone still.
 The first thing Hero saw was the deep red gashes in Marylou’s back,
wounds that would kill her. The second thing he saw was the wolves were
no longer attacking, it seemed as though they were in shock. The third thing
he saw was an opportunity to escape.
Hero rushed at Marylou, scooping her off the grass. She already felt
cold and clammy to the touch, but Hero told himself it was because of the
rain, not her injury and the amount of blood she already lost. He quickly
threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, never minding her
injuries, and started a dead run for the fence on the hill side of the valley.
He didn’t know if he would make it, but he knew it was going to be his only
chance.
The wolves had started yelling behind him. He didn’t know what
they were yelling, but they weren’t yelling at him. It sounded like one of
them said “what were you thinking?” while another one was screaming “I
didn’t mean to.” None of the yelling made any sense to him, so he just kept
running for the hill.
He was halfway up the rain slicked mud trail before any of the
wolves had noticed he was gone. In fact, it was the first wolf that had
jumped on his back that was yelling to the others about his escape. The first
wolf was at the bottom of the hill already, but was yelling at the other
wolves still in the middle of the valley, about Hero getting away. And away
was all he could focus on. Escape from these wolves, get out of the valley,
return to the town, and find help for Marylou. But his travel wasn’t going as
fast as he would have liked because he kept slipping backward on the mud.
Just as Hero reached the brush on top of the hill, he looked over his
shoulder to see where the wolves were. He counted six of them at the very
bottom of the hill, just now starting their ascent. He had a lead, but not
much of one. He turned back, and rushed through the brush and onto the
slate rock, running for the river.
Once he was on the rock, he didn’t slip or slide at all, and he quickly
reached the ravine. Instantly, he realized there would be a problem. He
couldn’t jump the river with the weight of Marylou on his back. She was too
heavy for him to throw across. And there was no way (as annoying as she
was sometimes) he was going to leave her for the wolves.
Knowing there was only one way across, he still ran up and down the
lip of the ravine, looking for a shorter jump across. He looked for anything
he could use as a bridge. And everything he looked for, he couldn’t find. It
would only be a matter of moments, and the wolves would be coming up
behind him.
Thinking of the wolves, he looked over his shoulder, and there they
were. They were two hundred yards behind him now, and closing fast. The
largest one was in the lead, with Captain just behind him. The largest wolf
had his head low to the ground and his lips pursed for some reason, Hero
could not figure out why, but right now that didn’t concern him.
There was no choice, with the wolves right behind him, he was going
to have to try and jump the river. And even now, if he did make the jump,
he had waited too long to have a good chance of escape. He had so poor a
chance to get away, that he probably would not escape the wolves even if
he did make it across. But he still backed up a dozen steps, and started a run
at the ledge.
Just as Hero reached his last step, and was about to push off in a
jump, he felt something hit him from behind. Not a physical blast, but a gust
of strong air. The sharp wind was strong enough that he lost his balance.
He would have fallen on his stomach, with Marylou crashing down on top of
him, except the gust of air carried him a few feet. Hero’s legs started trying
to run in midair, while his free arm was cartwheeling in an attempt to keep
him on solid ground. But Hero’s worst fears weren’t realized: He wasn’t
going to have to fight the wolves, because the gust of air was going to carry
him right over the ravine. Unfortunately, as soon as he was over the ravine,
the river raging far below him, the gust of wind suddenly stopped. Hero was
in the worst possible position, Marylou on his back, and nothing he could
put his feet on to stop him from falling to the river far below.
As the wind disappeared as fast as it had come, an unconscious
Marylou and a very conscious Hero, plummeted face first toward the
bottom of the ravine.
18- No Confidence

Captain saw Hero back up and start to run at the gap over the river.
The fool human was going to try to jump with the raven haired girl on his
back. Then he watched as Hero’s feet lifted off the slate rock and he flew
through the air to just over the gorge. Captain could hear the air coming
from Sergeant just at his left, and then, suddenly, the air stopped. Captain
watched in horror as Hero and Marylou both fell into the gorge.
He made a break as if to save them, knowing it was too late. But
after he was a few paces in front of the rest of the wolf pack, he spun on
Sergeant, confronting him.
“You puffed them into the gorge!”
“Yes, what of it?” Sergeant calmly replied.
“They are both going to die now. There is no possible way for them
to make it out of the river, and no way they can make it to the other side.”
Captain, usually calm and composed, was now in a panic.
“The death of those two humans has nothing to do with me,”
Sergeant spoke loud enough for all the wolves to hear him. “Those two
humans are dying because of you, Captain.”
“Me? You are the one that just puffed them into the gorge.”
“You already killed raven-hair. The blood is still on your paw.”
All the wolves looked down at Captain’s blood stained paw and
gasped. He had forgotten how deep the gash he had made on Marylou’s
back had gone. And he had forgotten to clean his paw so the wolves would
think the gash was not as bad as it actually was. If they had captured her,
like they were supposed to, they could still take her to the boss and get her
some human medicine. They would still be able to save her and finish this
long and drawn out job. But now it was too late to do those things. Captain
tried to respond, and even though he usually knew exactly what to say to his
fellow wolves, all he could do was stammer.
“You slashed her with your paw, Captain, deep enough to kill the
human woman.”
“You puffed Marylou into my oncoming charge,” Captain, though
still stammering, was finally able to find his voice. He protested further,
“And she was not dead, she was still alive when Hero carried her out of the
sheep valley. All was not yet lost.”
“I puffed her to keep her from getting injured, and to give you the
opportunity to capture her. But instead, you slashed her in the back.”
“But they were still alive! Hero and Marylou both, they were alive
when you puffed. . .”
“You speak of these humans too fondly, Captain,” Sergeant
continued, cutting off Captain’s words. Captain hated what Sergeant was
saying, but he knew what he was saying was true, and would be looked on
as a very poor practice by the other wolves. “You use their human names
freely. You forget you are a wolf, Captain. You have grown soft, and are
becoming too much like the humans yourself. Mark my words, Captain,
your human compassion will be the death of you. Wolves do not show
compassion, wolves get the job done. And now, through your own
carelessness, just like the boss said would happen, you have destroyed us.”
“But you are the one that killed them,” Captain pleaded, his eyes
searching the faces of the other wolves. He had to make them see exactly
what had happened to Marylou and Hero. He had to make them
understand he was trying to do what was best for the pack, and slashing
Marylou with his paw had been a mistake. None of the wolves were looking
at his face, though. Some of the wolves were looking at him, but they were
still looking at his paw. The blood was still dripping off his claws, staining
the slate rock beneath his feet. His fate had already been sealed by the
evidence still on his body. And other than knowing his word had been true
in the past, the other wolves had no reason to listen to him. He said one
thing, but the blood on his paw agreed with what Sergeant was accusing him
of.
“No, they were already dead before I puffed them into the gorge.
And with you slashing the raven-haired girl, all of our sheep will be taken
from us.” All the wolves looked at Sergeant now, concerned, as he
continued talking, “It is only because I have puffed them into the gorge, that
we have enough time to gather as many sheep as we can, and exit our
current home. We can rebuild, and we have the time to temporarily
disappear before the boss finds out what Captain has done.”
“What I have. . .”
“It is now, fellow wolves, that we must make a vote. You must vote
to revoke power from Captain, and give that power to me. Vote no
confidence with Captain as our leader, and give your full confidence to me,
the one who saved you and gave you a chance. I ask you now: cast your
vote, and stand with me.”
Captain watched as all the wolves, even his closest friends, went and
stood next to Sergeant. Maverick was the last one of the wolves to cast his
vote. He walked very slowly over to Sergeant’s side. And even though
Maverick showed with his slow and deliberate action he was voting to keep
the pack whole, it still hurt Captain more than any of the other votes. But
now, not a single wolf had confidence in Captain, and it was because of the
actions Sergeant maliciously put in motion. But Captain did not complain,
and Captain did not run away. No, wolves do not do that to one another.
Wolves run in packs, and with the pack he will be stronger. With him in the
pack, the pack will be stronger, even with the mutiny. Captain was not only
sad about the events happening today, he was also very nervous.
After all of the wolves were standing next to Sergeant and waiting
on their next instruction, Captain went and stood next to Sergeant himself.
Standing next to Sergeant, the wolf who stole his title from him, was one of
the hardest things Captain had ever done. But it was something he knew he
needed to do. The pack did not need division, to be strong, the pack
needed to be whole.
“And now, fellow wolves, after we have all the sheep cleared,”
Sergeant bellowed, “We will do what we should have done many years ago.
We will go on a hunt.”
All the wolves howled with excitement and anticipation.
“And what we hunt is Octavo Cabra!”
19- Through the River

Lots of things can go through your mind on a very short fall to your
inevitable death. The fall for Hero was no different. His mind raced as he
fell toward the bottom of the gorge, the sharp rocks, and the fast moving
current of the river, all of which were approaching him at a terrifying rate.
The first thing he thought was his journey had been shorter than he
thought it would have been. There had been times in his short life he had
lived very recklessly, all of those times in his distant past. The more recent
times, he had never thought of himself as being reckless; he had thought of
his actions as being a necessity. And the last few months had spiraled out of
control, but he really couldn’t regret anything that had happened, or the
choices he made.
The second thing he thought of was Marylou. The last conscious
thing she had seen in her short life was Hero’s face. A face, Hero hoped,
wasn’t covered in fear and terror at the sight of Captain slashing through the
skin on her back and all the way to her bone, instantly paralyzing her, and
making her collapse in a heap of pain and unconsciousness.
He wasn’t sure about the complexity of the emotions stemming
from Marylou going through his head and his heart. So, he just chalked it up
to being “confused” about her. He wanted her to succeed with her life, and
he wanted to be the one to help her succeed. Sometimes she drove him
absolutely crazy, and sometimes she made his heart race (although the
racing heart had often been with frustration). Above all, he felt like he had
failed her. All of the ‘what-ifs” going through his mind were causing an
immense internal struggle. An internal struggle that, if he survived this fall,
would probably plague him for the rest of his life. Hero quickly corrected
the thought to knowing it would plague him the rest of his life whether or
not he died from this fall, because it was plaguing him now.
He knew he was going to have to do better in his life. He was going
to have to change things about himself. He was going to have to not be such
an introvert, at least where Marylou was concerned; he would have to be
more of an extrovert with her. Maybe, if he survived, and if by some chance
she survived, he would have to talk with her about all the things he was
thinking right now.
If he survived.
A chance that was not very likely, as he fell face first into a gorge
whose only escape route would be under rock and water, miles
downstream. And, even though the water was running fast, was it really
running fast enough for him to be able to survive the underground, water
filled, chasm he would be rushing toward if he survived the fall?
That was, also, if Marylou survived.
Not only did she have the same risks facing her Hero had facing him,
she had more. More risks, and risks she surely would not be able to
overcome. Just the fall could kill her. The water rushing her through the
underground chasm would kill her. And both of those things would be
competing with the wolf wounds on her back to find out which one would
kill her first.
Suddenly, as if in slow motion, Hero realized he was mere feet from
crashing into the river face first. He tucked his knees up to avoid belly
flopping into the water, and just in time. Just as his knees were tucked, he
crashed into the ice-cold water with enough force to sink to the bottom of
the river before being rushed forward and down the stream.
Hero had enough sense about him to bend his knees and, while
clutching onto the body of Marylou, push off the bottom of the stream as
hard as he could. The push of his legs sent him like a rocket toward the
surface. Hero’s eyes were open, and he could see the daylight dancing on
the surface of the rushing river. He kicked for it as hard as he could while
looking up and praying for a breath of air. He could see, out of the corner of
his eye, the darkness of the underwater cave approaching him swiftly. He
kept kicking his feet, wanting the air above his head. His lungs burned for
the air just within reach.
With more adrenaline than he had ever been able to muster, and
more gasping than he had ever done in his life, Hero broke the surface of the
water. His burning lungs were thankful for the large gulps of air he was
taking, so Hero swallowed air as fast as he could. But in all his panic trying
to gather the breaths of air he now greedily taking, he had lost Marylou.
Realizing the error in his ways, he began desperately searching for
her. She had to be close, she couldn’t have gotten too far away. But with
panic surging in his body, he couldn’t find her. He turned and spun in the
water, looking both on the surface and under the water, trying with every
inch of his being to be able to find the body he had carried all this way. The
body he had carried up from the bottom of the river. The body that had
been so heavy on his shoulder. Where had he lost her?
His panicked search for Marylou made Hero lose focus on the
entrance to the cave. As he noticed the looming shadow from the wall of
the ravine, he turned just in time for the hard rock entrance of the cave to
slam into his nose and forehead. The force of the blast knocked Hero
unconscious. As his body slowly sank to the bottom of the river, the current
carried Hero into the depths of the underwater cave.

*****

When Hero finally came to, he felt like he was floating. His entire
body felt weightless in a dream-like state. He groggily pulled his floating
body forward, though he did not know why. He tried to make his mind
focus, but his mind felt just as weightless as his body, and when he tried to
focus, he had little success.
He just floated along, mind and body, trying to remember where he
was, who he was, and what he was doing. There was some importance to
what had just happened to him, he knew that. And there had just been a
vast amount of cold surrounding him, though now he was surrounded by a
very comfortable temperature. Something had caused him pain, though
now all he felt was bliss. And there had been someone he was supposed to
find. . .
Marylou!
Suddenly everything came crashing down on him, and he
remembered it all. He thrashed and panicked, and tried to find Marylou.
She had to be here, she just had to be.
Too late, he realized his mouth had been attached to something.
Something that had been giving him air. And now that it wasn’t attached, he
steadily gulped mouthfuls of water. The water was heavy, and slowly filled
his stomach and lungs. He wasn’t going to survive, he was going to drown. .
.
As Hero began to succumb to the water, he saw blue-green eyes,
glittering like emeralds. The eyes, right in front of his face, were all he saw
as he let the water from the river take him once more.

*****

This time, when Hero came back around, he remembered everything

that just happened, and as he opened his eyes, he saw the blue-green flecks
of emerald staring back at him. And this time, he realized what was
connected to his lips, were the lips of another person. The person was
giving him air, while at the same time, emptying the water out of his lungs.
He increased the field of his vision, and noticed the dirty-blonde hair
of the woman swirling around him in the current. He looked left, and then
right, not taking his lips away from the lifesaving embrace she had him
caught in. It was when he looked right he finally became relieved and let
himself relax.
There, floating in the current, her black hair swirling around her, was
Marylou. She too had a woman attached to her lips, giving her the breath of
life. The sweet, pure, air was allowing them to live underwater.
Then, Hero watched in horror, as another woman came up behind
Marylou with a white rod of lightening extending from both hands. The
woman was going to drive the lightening rod into Marylou’s back. She was
going to kill her with the electric blast underwater.
“Mmmmm. . . mmmmm. . .” Hero complained, as he struggled
against the woman holding him in the embrace. The embrace let him live,
but left him helpless. He could not do anything to help Marylou without
killing himself.
He felt hands on the back of his head. They were the hands of the
woman kissing him. She pulled and turned his head to where he was looking
back into her eyes as she gave him the open-mouthed kiss. Slowly she shut
her mouth, forcing him to shut his mouth as well, lest he begin swallowing
water. Once he had his mouth closed all the way, she backed away from
him, keeping his head in her hands, forcing him to look at her.
Her face was very pale, as if it had never seen sunlight, and Hero
wondered if it ever had. Her complexion was clean, and her hair still swirled
around her face and neck in the current. It was now Hero realized she was
nude. There was no shirt to cover her body, and Hero found himself staring
at her naked curves.
 He felt a hand under his chin, and the woman brought his eyes back
up to meet her own. Once their eyes met, she mouthed the words “watch.
It will be ok, I promise.” Confused, Hero didn’t know what she wanted him
to watch, but she helped him with that, too. She took his head, and turned
it with her hand to look back at Marylou.
This time, as Hero took in the scene, he was more observant to what
was actually happening. The first woman, the one kissing Marylou, he
realized was not a woman at all. She was nude just like the woman he was
kissing, except her freckled flesh was only nude to just below her belly
button. Then, the flesh did something strange. There was no waist, and
there were no legs, there were only scales. Scales that were blue, a
reflective and sparkling blue, like no fish he had ever seen. The scales
tapered down to a fin where her feet should be.
Hero realized none of these women were real women, every one of
them was a mermaid. With this realization he looked back at the woman
who had been kissing him, and this time let his eyes drift the entire length of
her body. He saw her scales were a checker-board pattern of green and
blue and glimmered just like the flecks in her eyes.
The mermaid gave Hero another kiss, filling his lungs with air once
more. And this time when she pulled back, she mouthed the words “keep
watching.” And she turned his head again, so he could see what was
happening to Marylou.
Hero didn’t understand what it was, but every kiss from the
mermaid didn’t only give him air to live, but it made him feel euphoric. A
feeling as if every muscle and every bone in his body were in complete
health. Like she literally was giving him breaths of life.
The second mermaid, the one coming up behind Marylou had black
scales. Hero wondered if she also had black eyes. Her black scales shone
like obsidian under water. But, even with all the sparkling and shining of her
scales, what drew Hero’s attention was the white bolt of lightning extending
from her hand. Hero watched as she slowly pushed the lightening into the
wound on Marylou’s back.
Once the lightning was all the way inside Marylou, her body
shivered, but nothing more. The first mermaid who was giving her the kiss
of life took her lips away. She looked at Hero, smiled, and nodded, before
going back to kissing Marylou, breathing life into her.
 The second mermaid was back at Marylou’s back again, only this
time with a bolt of purple lightning. For this bolt the mermaid drew back
and flung the lightning at Marylou as if she were Zeus hurling a bolt from the
heavens. The throw was true, and the purple lightning struck Marylou right
in the spot the wolf had cut her.
As the bolt hit Marylou’s body, her back arched and her hands went
out to her sides. Hero watched in amazement as the wound on her back
healed before his eyes. One moment it was there, and then the next
moment it was gone. Then Marylou’s eyes snapped open, and she let out a
scream. At least, Hero thought it would have been a scream, had it not been
muffled by the water between them, and the kiss the green-scaled mermaid
was giving her.
The blue-green eyed mermaid in front of Hero grabbed his head
again, and gave him another mouthful of air. Hero had almost forgotten he
was underwater and was about to take another breath, luckily the breath he
took was in the mermaids kiss. This time, though, as she kissed him, she
spun him around to face the opposite direction.
As the mermaid broke away from the final embrace, she pointed up.
Hero looked up, and saw there was daylight over his head. He watched as
the mermaids waved goodbye, the blue-green one blowing him a kiss, and
then all three swam away. He watched as long as he dared, as the three
tails disappeared into the depths of the underwater cave.
When he dared not watch any longer, he swam as hard as he could
to Marylou. Her back was healed, but her clothes still ripped in an eerie
reminder of where the wolf’s claw had penetrated her back. She was trying
to swim, but it looked like she was having no luck of it. Her body not
cooperating with the things she was trying to do, as if she had absolutely no
strength.
Hero quickly wrapped his arms around her, and together they swam
toward the daylight above their heads.
20- Late Night Camp Thief

Hero remembered reading somewhere about being careful what you

wished for. He knew all he had been focused on was finding the wolf camp.
All he had wanted was to find their home base, go in guns blazing, and end
this charade of him pretending like he could do more than what he himself
knew he was able to do.
What was it the wolves had called him? “The Hunter.”
He didn’t feel much like a hunter, he felt more like a victim. The
entire time the wolves had been hunting him, not the other way around.
Sure, he had found their home, and he had entered it feeling very confident
about his and Marylou’s chances. But what did he get out of it?
Well, he would have a lot less right now if it hadn’t been for the
mermaids. Hero tried to tell himself he would have been better off if
Marylou had followed his suggestions and not gone with him, but he knew
deep down if she hadn’t been there, he would be dead right now. Dead,
and probably in the belly of a wolf.
Despite the heat coming off the campfire, Hero shivered.
It was late, and Hero was trying to stay awake. Or at least awake
enough he would be observant to his surroundings. It wasn’t because of the
wolves, he was fairly confident the wolves did not know where he and
Marylou were camped. In fact, the wolves were probably certain the two
had died in the river. No, Hero wanted to stay awake because he had the
sneaking suspicion someone was stealing from him in the middle of the
night.
There were no tracks. There were no hairs. There were no fibers.
He just had a sneaking suspicion his missing items were being stolen. There
was no way he could have misplaced so many things. But being the skilled
tracker he was, Hero could still not find any sign of anyone or anything
having been in the camp besides him and Marylou. Yet, the items remained
missing.
In the four nights it had been since Hero and Marylou struggled out
of the river, he had lost four items. Only one item per night, never two. And
there was never a night that everything was accounted for the next
morning. Hero had lost a bow string he had been using to start a fire every
night since the uncomfortable first night with Marylou showing him up with
her ability to start a fire. He had also lost one of his throwing knives, one of
his two whet stones, and a candle. All of the items were replaceable, and
none of them very valuable, but if Hero didn’t figure out what was going on
soon, he was going to drive himself crazy.
So here he sat, the fire dwindling, with nothing to do except think
about the mistakes he had made. Marylou had been good company, and
had slowly been getting better from her injuries the last few days. The
magic the Mermaids seemed to work took affect quickly, but still left
Marylou exhausted and needing time to recover. Hero figured it was like
every ounce of her remaining energy was expelled, or focused, in healing the
large wound on her back.
He knew, injured or not, he was not going to try and talk her out of
joining him on their next inevitable battle with the wolves. That would have
been a mistake last time, if he had been able to talk her into leaving, a
mistake he wouldn’t have lived through. But something they did have to do
was figure out exactly what they were going to do the next time they ran
across the wolves. And, Hero admitted to himself, they were going to have
to figure out where they were.
The river had washed them miles downstream at an incredible rate,
part of which he was unconscious for. So he had no idea how much time
they had spent under the water, nor how far they had traveled. And now,
they were in a very dark part of the forest he did not recognize. He still
knew where the river was, he had been packing water to their camp every
day. But just exactly where they were on the river, was beyond him.
Any other river they could have just followed back upstream until
they came to the town of Broken Straw. But not this one. No, this river
went underground for miles, so there was no way of following the river back
to town. They were going to have to try and travel through the forest with
no trails to follow, until they found their way back.
Hero thought he heard a twig snap on the outskirts of the camp, and
his eyes snapped open and tried to focus on where the sound came from.
First he was surprised because he hadn’t even realized he had closed his
eyes. Then he was surprised about how far the fire had burned down. Had
he been asleep? Or had he just been lost in thought? Hero hoped he hadn’t
been asleep and the late night camp thief had already come and gone.
Other than the dry snap he just heard, the forest remained silent.
Hero refocused his efforts and told himself he had to stay awake long
enough to figure out either what caused the sound, or to figure out who had
been stealing from him.
Hero estimated after one more day, he and Marylou would be able
to start their journey back to town. By then she would be rested and have
enough strength to travel. He knew she wouldn’t be ok in a fight against the
Big-Bad Wolves, but by the time they had a couple days light travel behind
them, she would be well rested and ready. And that’s what Hero figured it
would take them to get back to town, a couple days of light travel.
He would give just about anything for a pair of horses right now.
Two horses could run them back into the town of Broken Straw, giving them
the opportunity to cover maybe three times the distance they could cover
on foot. But horses were not one of his resources. Hero quickly discounted
the horses, and went back to thinking on what resources he did have.
He had his throwing knives, and his hatchet. He also had various
other supplies, like a couple of candles, roughly twenty feet of rope, a knife
sharpener, a flint and striker (which he was now using to light the fires) and
a few other things sure to come in handy. Marylou had some items as well.
By some miracle, she still had her bow-staff. In fact, it had been what was
hindering her from making it to the surface of the water in the river.
Somehow, maybe even subconsciously, she never let go of the weapon.
They had the same weapons against the same enemies who seemed
to have countless attacks. Hero had expected the claws of the wolves. He
had expected the snapping jaws. He had even expected the smart cunning
the wolves displayed. He did not, however, expect to have a tail thrashed
across his chest and face like a whip. And, even though Octavo had warned
him, he had forgotten the wolves seemed to have this incredible blowing
ability. Octavo had called it howling things over, but Hero felt it was more
like he was huffed and puffed off the cliff.
Hero and Marylou now had two advantages, as Hero saw it. First is
the wolves thought the humans were dead, so they wouldn’t be hunting
them. Second is, and Hero believed this earnestly, they knew all the ways
the wolves could attack. So now, the next time they were able to find the
wolves, the humans could attack on their terms and they could prepare for
any attacks the wolves could throw their way.
The same weapons were not going to work, however. He needed to
figure out exactly what would work against the wolves. His knives and his
hatchet were good at close range. Marylou’s staff was good at a little bit
wider range, and would keep the wolves’ primary attacks, claws and teeth,
at bay when fighting one or two wolves. But her staff had one considerable
weakness: it did not have a way to mortally injure a wolf. Sure, she had
knocked the wolves out, and crushed voice boxes, but she had not done any
real harm to the wolves. If only there was a way he could maybe sharpen it
on one end. . .
This time Hero knew he heard a rustle in the tall grass just outside
the light coming from the campfire. Confused, Hero sat and stared at the
grass. The grass was taller than any other in the area, but it was not tall
enough to conceal anything over maybe twelve inches tall. Unless of course
if that thing was crouching. Hero continued to sit and argue with himself
about how large a person could be hidden in the grass. He was not really
sure why he was giving anything in the grass a second thought, but maybe it
was just to keep himself awake.
Suddenly, Hero saw a shadow creeping toward him. Hero remained
seated, not afraid, but confused. The shadow was not tall enough to be any
man, but the shadow was shaped like a man. Hero sat as still as he could
and watched the little man stealthily move across their camp. Once, the
little man turned sideways and Hero nearly gasped. The little man was
almost as flat as a pancake.
The flat, tiny, man stopped walking toward Hero and stood watching
him for a while. “He is trying to determine whether or not I am asleep,”
Hero thought to himself, so he let out a little snort of a snore. The little man
jumped, startled at the sound, but then was satisfied Hero and Marylou
were really asleep, and continued toward Hero’s supply pack.
Hero waited, not moving until the little man was completely
distracted by digging through Hero’s pack. Once his back was turned, Hero
stood up and started toward the little man, doing his own sneaking across
the camp. But Hero was too late.
He was still ten feet behind the little man’s back, when the flat little
man stood up straight, removing one of Hero’s candles from his pack. Hero
gasped, this little man was stealing from him.
 “I think you need to put that back,” Hero said to the man’s back.
The little man slowly turned around and faced Hero. Hero waited,
looking for surprise or guilt on the man’s face, but all he saw was. . .
frosting? In the amount of time it took Hero to recognize there was no guilt,
and something was wrong with the little man’s facial features, was all the
time it took for the little man to no longer be surprised, but instead, running
away.
Hero chased the flat man, but the little man was fast. He laughed
the whole time, making zig-zags around the camp. He ran a complete lap
around Marylou’s still sleeping body. He made three laps around the fire.
He ran back to the pack and threw the candle back in, then made another
lap around Marylou. On his return to the pack, he took the candle back out
of the pack. All the while laughing in a shrill voice like a child would have
while running circles around their parents.
And then the singing came. It was not a song, not really, but more of
a chant in a sing-song voice. A chant that instantly drove Hero, already
panting, to the breaking point.
“Run, run as fast as you can, you’ll never catch me, I’m the
Gingerbread Man!”
Around and around the camp the two went, while the self
proclaimed “Gingerbread Man” chanted his chorus, and laughed
hysterically. Had Hero not been panting and out of breath, he knew he
would have been cursing the little man during every chorus.
After another few laps the Gingerbread Man, laughing harder than
ever, swerved off course and started running into the forest. Hero gave
chase for a few feet, but quickly realized his eyes were accustomed to the
light of the fire, and he was not going to be able to give chase into the
forest. Still full of laughter the Gingerbread Man gave one last chorus:
“Run, run as fast as you can, you’ll never catch me, I’m the
Gingerbread Man!”
Hero picked up the closest rock and pointlessly threw it in the
direction of laughter in the forest. The rock bounced off a tree a few yards
into the darkness. The laughter was getting further and further away from
him, and finally disappeared into the night.
“Darn you, Gingerbread Man!” Hero yelled into the dark forest,
“Darn you!” He yelled a second and then a third time, only to be answered
by more, barely audible, laughter.
“What in the world are you bellowing at, at this time of night?”
Came Marylou’s voice from behind him, at the edge of the camp.
Hero just sighed. How was he going to explain this?
21- The Gingerbread Man

Hero didn’t have any more things he could afford to lose (or be
stolen), so he had to catch this Gingerbread Man. Finally he had developed
a foolproof plan (After a very long explanation to Marylou about what
happened, which she listened to without interrupting. And then explaining
to her why it was so important he catch the Gingerbread Man, to which she
asked a plethora of very frustrating questions, and finally relented muttering
something about foolish male pride). First he would lay out his flint and
striker, something the Gingerbread Man would surely attempt to steal.
Second he would put two stacks of logs on one side of the flint to make the
Gingerbread Man go the other way. Then he and Marylou would lie
opposite each other, close to the flint, forcing the Gingerbread Man to go
between them. Finally, he would set a snare at the edge of the camp, so
when he would “awake” and “catch” the Gingerbread Man stealing from
them, the Gingerbread Man would spout his gibberish about not being able
to catch him, and then Hero would trigger the snare.
He needed this trick to work for a few reasons. First and foremost
he couldn’t afford to not have any more nights with little sleep. Second is
tomorrow they would be breaking camp and heading back toward town, and
the wolves. Third, was because he couldn’t afford to lose any more supplies
to the late night camp thief. And finally, he needed the flint and striker he
would be setting as bait. The plan had to work.
Hero let the fire die down at the center of the camp, and set up his
trap. For the most part Marylou watched him work, he filled her in on
exactly how things must go. Even though she was still muttering about
foolish pride, she agreed to help him on the points he needed help with. He
thought he might want to leave a fake flint and striker out, but figured the
Gingerbread Man would be smart enough to figure out it was a trap, so he
stuck to his only real flint and striker.
After the trap was set up, he and Marylou lay next to the fire, and
became very quiet. It seemed like hours passed, while Hero watched the
fire with only one eye open, waiting for the little man to show up. He was
just on the border of sleep when he finally heard a rustle on the outside of
camp, a rustle he knew had to be the Gingerbread Man.
He watched as the shadows cast by the tiny creature went by the
fire. He listened as a little bit of scraping came from the place he set the
flint. And then he watched again as the Gingerbread Man snuck between
him and Marylou.
“Now.” He whispered to her.
They both stood up, and yelled “HEY!” in the direction of the
Gingerbread Man.
“Run, run, as fast as you can! You’ll never catch me, I’m the
Gingerbread Man!”
As soon as the little man finished his rhyme, but before he had time
to get out of range, Hero pulled the rope on the snare. He heard the
whoosh of the branch flying into the air, and then the snap of the rope as it
pulled tight. The little man’s leg was inside the loop of the rope that had
been on the ground and he slung into the air. Now, even while hanging
upside down at Hero’s eye level, the little man didn’t stop talking.
“Catch me! Catch me! How’d you catch me?” Spouted the
Gingerbread Man.
“With patience,” Hero replied, walking closer and looking at the
strange little man.
He appeared to actually have been made out of gingerbread. His
eyes, mouth, nose, and other physical characteristics looked as if they had
been made out of icing. His skin was brown, but all of it the same dull
brown, no different hues. Lastly, and probably most impressive, was the
little man stood only about twelve inches tall, and was flat as a pancake.
“You need to let me free. You need to let me free. Let me, let me,
let me, let me free. Let me free, I need to be, let me free free free free
free,” The Gingerbread man chorused.
Hero just looked at Marylou, and shook his head. He had never
thought about what to do once they caught the little man, and it appeared
Marylou hadn’t given it much thought either. They couldn’t very well just let
him go, the craziness of the past few nights would just continue. But Hero
couldn’t find it in his heart to kill the little guy, he just looked so. . . tasty.
“What I want, is my stuff. . .” Hero started.
“Oh your stuff, your stuff stuff stuff. I want to be free and you want
your stuff. Free for me, you your stuff. Free for me me me me me. I want
to be free for me. No stuff. No stuff. No stuff, but free me. I need to be
free.” The Gingerbread Man continued on with his rant, while Hero tried to
puzzle out what it was he was saying.
“You don’t have my stuff?”
“Oh so smart smart smart. Man is smart, no stuff for you from me
me me me me. I want to be free free free. Give to me to be free. Give to
me. Let me be. Free free free, is all I want to be for me.”
Hero looked at Marylou again, she just shrugged and gave him a
blank look in return. She was not going to be much help, so Hero had to
figure this one out on his own. Obviously the little man would be too loud
for them to keep as a prisoner, so they would have to let him free. But how
could they let him free and be sure he wouldn’t start stealing from them
again?
“You need to stop stealing from us,” Hero commanded of the
Gingerbread Man. “And give me a reason I should let you free.”
“Oh a deal! Deal-e-deal-e-deal-e-o. I will make you a deal deal deal.
Information if you let me free. I will give you information if you let me free.
Info info info-mation. Information if you let me free. Information you will
want want want, and I’ll be free free FREE!” The last “free” was in a very
shrill voice making Hero wince.
“What information do you have?” Marylou asked the little man.
“First the deal. Then the free. Then the information. Free-te-do-be-
de. Free to me! Free to me. Information will set me free. Free to me la-te-
de.”
Hero thought to himself that this little man must be on some sort of
sugar rush. And, after first discounting the thought, he went back to it. It
was entirely possible, if the man was made completely out of gingerbread
and frosting, he could be on some sort of perma-sugar-rush. No wonder he
ran around in the middle of the night, he probably ran around all the time,
never able to slow down. While the Gingerbread Man was still singing about
being free, Hero asked the next question.
“So if I set you fr-uh-loose,” correcting his words midsentence in
hopes to avoid another mad rush of rhyming, ”you will promise to not steal
from us ever again, and give us some sort of information you have
acquired?”
“Yes oh yes oh yes oh yes oh yes oh yes oh yes oh yes. To be free, to
be free. I want to be free so I will agree!”
“Ok then, I will let you go. Marylou, cut the snare.”
Marylou pulled one of Hero’s knives out from her sleeve, and cut the
snare. Even though she constantly refused to use any of his knives, she had
agreed that tonight it may be a good idea.
“HA ha ha ha ha. I am free-te-de. FREE!” and the Gingerbread Man
ran to the outskirts of the camp, without looking back.
“WAIT!” yelled Hero. “You promised me information!”
“Our deal-e-deal-e-o. Information you set me free to be free free
free,” Came the voice of the Gingerbread Man from all directions, as if he
were running spastic circles around the camp, constantly increasing in
speed. Hero was getting dizzy just listening to the Gingerbread Man, but on
he ran, still singing his information.
“You seek a wolf, a wolf, a pack of wolves. To the house, the house,
the house of the goat. The goat. A goat? The eighth goat. A man of a goat
the wolves they go, they go, they go. They want to eat the goat, wolves eat
goats, they eat the goats a goat a goat a goat. No more sheep so they eat
the goat! No sheep so eat the goat, eat the goat, eat the goat. They will eat.
. . eat. . . eat. . . the goat.” With the last line of the song, the Gingerbread
Man was running away from them, and at such a rate Hero barely heard the
last “goat.”
Stunned, Hero stood in silence. If that song meant what Hero
thought it meant, he would have to drastically change his strategy. He
wondered how long ago this little man had gathered this information. It
could have been just this night, or it could have been close to a week ago.
Finding the wolves had to change the wolves’ strategy, just as it had
changed his. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? The wolves were
backed into a corner, and being backed into a corner, they were sure to go
back on the offensive.
“Do you have any idea what all of that meant?” Marylou asked him.
“I think I might,” Hero answered, and then remained silent.
“Well would you care to fill me in?”
“Huh? Oh.” Hero was lost in thought, “We need to travel at first
light, Marylou.”
“Travel? You figured out where the wolves are?”
“No. But I figured out where they are going,” Hero said, now with
more urgency in his voice. “We have to get to Octavo’s house and we have
to get there fast!”
22- Down with Octavo

What the Gingerbread Man told Hero, or more, what Hero deduced
the Gingerbread Man was telling him, was all true. The wolves were on the
move to Octavo Cabra’s house, and they were moving fast. Captain
estimated they would make it to Octavo’s before nightfall. Sergeant liked to
do his attacking at dusk, he said it disoriented their prey.
Captain hadn’t decided within himself yet if this was something wolves
would do, or something cats would do. When he had observed cats hunting,
he had only observed it during the day. He had heard about cats hunting at
night, but never seen it for himself. But at dusk, well, he hadn’t heard about
anything hunting then except for humans.
Just in the short amount of time the wolves had been in Sergeants
command, Captain had realized quite a few things Sergeant did that
reminded him of humans. To think, Sergeant had accused Captain of being
too much like humans and then nearly every tactic Sergeant took was
something a human probably would have done.
Captain spent a lot of time observing humans in the jobs they had
been working for their boss. Humans never had any problems with going
against their own packs. Humans were very emotional in dealing with many
issues. And, in that emotion, they seemed to make a lot of bad decisions.
This bad decision making by humans is what put Captain in his current
position. Well, the bad decision making, and being set up.
What, exactly, had Sergeant wanting to hunt Octavo was beyond
Captain. There were a variety of reasons Sergeant would want to do this,
but none that would turn the season just enough to make Sergeant follow
through. It could be Sergeant wanted to finish what they had started so
many years ago. Their first paying job. Admittedly, Captain was not a part
of that job, but his father was. Sergeant is the only one of the group who
was a part of that job. But even Sergeant was so young he had to convince
Captain’s father to let him come along. Captain didn’t know a lot of what
happened that day, his father would never talk about it. He didn’t think
going back to that job was why they were going after Octavo, but it could
be.
 One thing they needed to prepare for was a good defense. Captain
wasn’t sure if Octavo could fight, but he knew his driver and his bodyguard
could. Octavo kept a woman bodyguard who, like Marylou, would be able
to kill you before you knew what hit you. Wolves, for some reason, were
just like humans in this regard, they often discounted human women when
it came to fighting. Something that in this case they had better not
overlook.
“Sergeant, tell me why we are doing this,” Captain barked from the
back of the pack.
“You will speak when you are spoken to, Captain. This is your last
warning.”
Captain answered him with a grunt. Last warning? What would he do
if Captain kept talking? Tell his mommy on him? Captain was about to ask
that very question, when he remembered what Sergeant and company had
done to Flint. Wolves eating other wolves. That was a crime that would not
go unpunished. Flint was one of Captains best friends, and though he knew
he would never forget him, he didn’t know what he could possibly do to
avenge his death.
“In the pack we are many, and in the pack we are strong.”
The words of Captain’s father reverberating in his head. Even being
deposed, Captain knew he had to do his best to hold the pack together. The
Big-Bad Wolf Pack needed him now more than ever. He just didn’t know
what to do to keep the pack together and strong. Just being told, and
unanimously, it wasn’t his job anymore, did not mean he wasn’t going to
continue to bear the responsibility. Some things in life you did just because
you knew they had to be done.
Captain looked at the horizon, they were getting close now. And, just
as predicted, the sun had just now set beyond the mountains. In the fading
light, Captain could see Octavo’s house on the crest of the next hill. What
were they doing here? Why were they doing this?
Nervously, Captain fought down the emotion brewing up inside of
him. He didn’t know how to deal with these human emotions he had been
feeling lately, like compassion, remorse and anxiety. Wolves didn’t get
nervous, they just did what they had to do. But maybe, just maybe, the
emotions he felt coursing through his body were trying to tell him
something. As if they were trying to tell him the right path to take.
 Instead of acting on the emotion, he shoved it down. Now was not
the time, or the place, to exact his revenge on Sergeant. There would be
another time, there would be a better time. Tonight, the wolves had to
prepare for battle. There would be two well trained humans fighting them
at Octavo’s house, and maybe three if the goat himself could fight.
Captain did not like sneaking into battle like cats, but he understood
why Sergeant was doing it this way. Sneaking up to the guarded house
would give them the opportunity to attack and become victorious before
anyone in the house even knew what was going on.
Sergeant gave a command to hold as the wolves had the house mostly
surrounded. Sergeant approached the back door by himself, and looked in
the window by the door. Captain saw the large wolf grin, and start to push
the back door open. He couldn’t put his paw on it, but something just
wasn’t right about their attack plan. Something, he knew, was going to go
wrong.
Tonight was going to be a blood filled night.
23- Octavo’s house

Hero knelt on a knoll about fifty yards from Octavo’s front door.
Marylou was crawling, just out of sight, behind a rise about the same
distance beyond Octavo’s back door. Even though Hero knew exactly where
she was, he couldn’t see her, and this made him nervous. There was no way
of telling if this was another of the wolves ambushes, and he didn’t like
Marylou being this far away from him, especially not being able to see her.
The house had an empty look, and that worried Hero as well. He
didn’t know how to describe the look the house was giving off, other than
“vacant”. But, empty or not, they were not going to take any chances in
dealing with the wolves.
Also, Hero knew Octavo employed body guards. The woman was a
very strong and skilled fighter, and the male driver was probably just as
skilled. Those guards were there solely to protect Octavo from the wolves;
but, Hero suspected, they would not hesitate if they thought Hero was here
to harm Octavo. So, after short deliberation with Marylou, the duo decided
to stake out the house for a short time, and then rendezvous at the border
of the apple trees, and determine their course of action.
The thought had barely crossed Hero’s mind that the Gingerbread
Man was leading them on a wild goose chase. But the man had no reason to
lie to them, so Hero figured the information was good.
No, Hero only worried about the time it took them to get to Octavo’s
house. They just had to be here soon enough, and could not afford to be
late. If they were too late, Hero didn’t know what he would do.
Suddenly, Marylou stood up from her crouch, looked around, and
found where Hero was kneeling. She waved one arm back and forth, to
make sure Hero was looking at her, and then put the same arm out and
made a motion with her hand for Hero to come there. Confused, Hero did
as he was told, and started trotting towards Marylou. She did the same, and
met him half way, near the back door of the house.
“We are too late,” she said.
“How can you know for sure?” Hero asked.
“Look at the back door.” The solid oak door was hanging on one
hinge, and where the door knob should have been were claw marks down
the wood. It looked as if a wolf had hit it in a lunge with both front paws
extended. So that was their way into the house, but were they still inside, or
had they left? As if reading his mind, Marylou answered Hero’s question.
“There is a trail to the house, and a trail away,” she said. “In fact,
there is a pretty well used trail coming up to the back door and then away. I
think they had been watching him for a while, Hero, and they finally devised
their plan of attack and hit him at his weakest point.”
“We need to go inside, Marylou.”
“No, we need to put out a call for the King’s Men.”
“There is no time to wait for them, Marylou,” Hero insisted. “We
need to know right now what happened to Octavo and whether or not he is
still alive.” And please let him be alive, Hero thought to himself, knowing
Octavo was his only chance to remain out of jail. He wanted to make sure
every option was exhausted before they called in the guard. Hero would not
be put back in a dungeon cell.
“Hero, there’s blood. Lots and lots of blood on the trail.”
“I have to know for sure, Marylou.”
Hero made a dash for the door. Marylou had no other option than
to follow him, and try to help if there was anything she could do to help. By
the time Hero reached the decimated door, Marylou was right behind him,
and they went in together.
The metallic smell of blood hung in the air, but nothing smelled
rotten, everything still smelled fresh. Knowing a dog’s strongest sense is
smell, Hero cursed himself for acting like a wolf, and continued over the
threshold using his other senses.
The house was completely thrashed, and Hero did not know where
to look first. Book cases were knocked from the wall, one having only fell
halfway to the floor before being caught by a wooden chair, spilling its
novels across the floor. The other bookcase had fallen completely to the
ground and split a blood trail on the floor. An expensive looking painting lay
face up on the floor, blood splatter on the painting matching the splatter on
the wall beside it. There was a leather couch in the next room torn to
shreds, but showed no blood on the white stuffing.
“It’s not right,” said Hero.
“It’s horrible,” agreed Marylou.
 “No. I mean something is not right here,” Hero thought for a
moment before speaking again, and Marylou let him think. “All the
destruction happened after the attack.” Hero finally said. “All the ransacking
was after the wolves had already caused the bloodshed. It was not during
the attack, or before, but it was after.”
“How do you know?” asked Marylou.
“The blood,” Hero answered. “The painting left a void in the blood
spatter on the wall. The bookcase dissects the blood dragged on the floor.”
“So it wasn’t the wolves?”
“No, it was the wolves,” Hero thought for another moment. “But
after the attack, they tried to make the attack look. . . human.”
Marylou shivered.
Hero absently walked into the kitchen.
“Marylou! Come quick, there’s a body!”
Marylou cursed under her breath, a bad habit she had picked up
from Hero, and rushed into the kitchen. Laying on the floor, face up, was a
woman with a sword drawn but not used. Her dead eyes looked up at the
ceiling, and when Marylou saw what the wolves had done to the woman’s
throat, she quickly averted her gaze to avoid throwing up.
“Who is she?” Marylou asked.
“She is Octavo’s bodyguard. This is not good, Marylou, if she is
dead, then the wolves surely got to Octavo. We need to check the house,
and in a hurry.”
It didn’t take the pair long to check the rest of the house. They only
found one other body, and it was the body of Octavo’s driver, he had been
killed in the same manner as the body guard. Marylou was grateful Hero
didn’t make her look at this body, too. She was ready to get out of the
house, and away from the smell of blood.
They made a second lap around the house to make sure they didn’t
miss anything, or anyone, and then made their way back out on the back
porch.
“It’s just not right, Marylou.”
“Why do you keep insisting the wolves are trying to make this attack
look human?”
“I don’t know, but doesn’t it seem that way?” Hero asked her back.
“Ok, so talk it out with me,” Marylou said. “Tell me exactly what you
feel.”
“Ok. The first thing is the attack took place inside a house. Second is
the bodies were not eaten, in the past, the wolves have eaten all their
victims.”
“Not my sister,” Marylou said, a tear welling up in her eye.
“I think that attack was different, too,” Hero said, and then hurriedly
continued on before Marylou had a chance to think too long on her sister.
“The wolves attacked the throats of both of these two with a gash that could
be mistaken for a human weapon. Next, is the wolves completely thrashed
Octavo’s house. I mean, I don’t think there is a single piece of furniture that
has not been damaged in some way. Not to mention, we were able to
conclude the ransacking happened after the initial attack.”
“So, why would they do all that?” Marylou asked. “And how do we
know it is not a human attack designed to look like a wolf attack?”
“The claw marks on the back door matched the claw marks on your
back way too closely,” Hero explained. “And no human is close enough to
the wolves to know what their claw marks would look like in an attack. As
for why they went to all the trouble to make it look like a human attack, I
don’t know.”
“Do you think they are trying to frame you?”
“They don’t know enough about my past to frame me, do they?”
Hero asked. “No, I think there is something else there. . . Like they want
Glub to think it was a human attack.”
And then a minute later, “Yeah, that has to be it. They want Glub to
think this looks exactly like it looks. A human attack made to look like
something it is not.” Then, Hero had an epiphany, “They are covering their
tracks, Marylou, they are going to disappear. The Gingerbread Man said
they lost all their sheep. So now they are going to finish the first job they
never finished, and disappear back into the woods, only to emerge again
when everyone forgets about them.”
“Their job?”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking on that for a while,” Hero admitted. “I
don’t think they are working for themselves, it just doesn’t make sense,
some of the actions they take. I think, instead, they are being hired by
someone to pull off these jobs.”
“What gives you that idea?” Marylou asked.
 “The sheep.”
Marylou gasped, “Oh, dear.”
Hero turned and looked at Marylou quizzically.
“I think I know what they are after.”
“You do?”
“Hero, do you think they ate Octavo whole, or do you think they
took him?”
“I had assumed they ate him whole,” Hero said with obvious sadness
touching his voice. “But, now that you mention it, I don’t think that is right, I
think they took him with them. Look at this blood trail coming out the back
door and across the porch.” Hero pointed to the ground close to where they
were standing.
“If the wolves ate Octavo, then what would they be dragging?” Hero
asked this excitedly, “And there would be no point in taking him with them,
unless he were alive. . .”
A squeak came from the ground near Hero’s feet, making him jump.
The squeak came from a little brown mouse that had not only come to stand
next to Hero’s foot, but had actually ran into Hero’s foot before the mouse
stopped. Slowly walking up behind the first brown mouse were two other
mice, these not squeaking, but just waiting patiently for the first mouse.
“Well, it looks like there were a few survivors today,” Hero said,
pointing out the mice to Marylou.
“Hero, look closer, those poor dears don’t have any tails.”
“Well I’ll be switched,” said Hero, “You are right.”
And then Hero said to the mice, “What happened to your tails,
men?”
To his surprise, the first mouse answered.
24- Three Blind Mice

“It was that rotten farmer’s wife,” the first mouse spat. “She cut off
our tails with carving knives. After that we’ve been living here on and
around Octavo’s wood pile.”
“Yep, all around the wood pile,” the second mouse said, and then him
and the third mouse both took off running in circles, and ended up crashing
into each other.
“Hey, Marylou,” Hero commented, “I think it’s three blind mice.”
“Three blind mice?”
“Yes, see how they run,” Hero pointed out.
“Oh yeah, I see how they run.”
“I guess they ran by the farmer’s wife, and she cut off their tales with a
carving knife.”
“Wow,” said Marylou, “have you ever seen such a thing in your life, as
these three blind mice?”
“No, I guess I haven’t,” answered Hero.
“Are you two done staring at our handicaps yet?” asked the first of the
blind mice.
“How did you know we were staring if you’re blind?” Hero countered.
“I’ve got ears, don’t I?”
Trying not to be bested by the mouse, Hero ignored the statement.
Instead, he asked the mouse a question, “So do you boys know what
happened here?”
“It was the wolves,” said the first.
“The wolves,” agreed the second.
“The wolves,” piped up the third.
“And what did those wolves do, exactly?” Hero asked.
The mice told him, each filling in for the other when one started
lapsing in the story.
The wolves had the house surrounded, right at twilight, when it was
really hard for humans to see, but wolves could still see really well. There
was a danger in the air the mice could sense but they didn’t know what it
was or why. The mice got nervous and hid inside the wood pile. Which
probably ended up saving their lives.
Just after the mice had gotten themselves hidden in the woodpile,
they heard a loud howl. It was coming from the front of the house, near the
front door. There was one wolf that stayed outside the front of the house
the entire time the wolves were there. Thus blocking any escape to the
front of the house.
After the wolf started howling at the front door, at least two other
wolves passed by the wood pile and slammed into the back door. It stood
for a moment, but then the door came crashing down when another one of
the wolves started puffing against the door while the other two continued to
crash into the door.
“There was a lot of chaotic screaming,” said the first mouse. “It was
hard to tell a lot of what was going on because of all the growling, howling,
and screaming. It was horrible.”
“Horrible,” chimed in the second mouse.
“Yes, horrible,” came the voice of the third.
“They went after the bodyguard woman first,” the first mouse
continued with the story.
At least two wolves, but probably three got her cornered in the house
very quickly. Inside the house there was not enough room for her to use her
sword, because she couldn’t make the free and large movements you need
to make in sword fighting. The wolves got her cornered inside the house,
and killed her rather quickly. She was not able to last very long.
The wolves chased after the chauffer next. He was hard for them to
find because he was hiding. But as soon as they figured out he was still in
the house, they started taunting him. Calling to him, and trying to scare him
into making a noise. There was no way for him to hide for long because they
just had to search the house. The wolves could probably smell him, and
that’s what made them so sure he was in the house. Once they finally found
him, they killed him easily.
“And Octavo?” asked Hero.
“The wolves saved Octavo for last,” the third mouse said, “I don’t
know why, though, because he was on the ground floor, in the front room
the whole time.”
“The whole time,” said the first mouse.
“The whole time,” said the second mouse.
 There was a big struggle that ended up knocking over almost
everything in the house. Octavo was yelling about how they needed to stop
destroying his house. But it was like the wolves were looking for something.
They kept knocking things over, and Octavo kept yelling at them the whole
time.
“Maybe they were trying to make it look like I had been here. . .” Hero
said.
“I don’t know what they were doing, but they kept destroying the
house,” the first mouse continued. “There was a lot of breaking furniture
and a big mess they were making.”
“How long did this take place?” Marylou asked.
“At least half an hour,” the second mouse answered.
“It had gotten very dark by the time they were done,” said the third
mouse.
“Very dark,” said the first mouse.
“Very dark,” said the second mouse.
“So they kept Octavo cornered the whole time they destroyed the
house, and he was never able to get away? Did he sound like he had been
injured?” Hero asked.
“No, they didn’t injure him until later,” the first mouse said. “The
wolves started saying something about how they wanted more sheep, and
that Octavo could manage to give them the sheep. Octavo refused, and
that’s when they started to hurt Octavo.”
The wolves had Octavo cornered in the front room, and then started
herding him toward the back door. They insisted Octavo give them sheep,
and Octavo kept refusing, so the wolves started to attack him. At first it was
just a little nip here and there, and then there was more. More violent bites
and puffs of wind. Then there started to be cracks like the sound a whip
makes all around the back porch.
“The one called Sergeant said he was going to gut Octavo right then
and there,” said the third mouse. “But the one called Captain said it was not
the ‘wolf thing to do’ and told him not to. Then Sergeant said he didn’t have
to listen to Captain.”
“I thought the wolves were going to fight,” said the second mouse.
“They were going to fight,” said the first mouse.
“For some reason Captain backed down, and Sergeant was going to rip
Octavo’s guts out of his body while he was still alive,” said the third mouse.
Octavo finally started screaming he would give him all the sheep they
wanted, as long as they stopped hurting him and let him live. The wolves
agreed, but Octavo had left one flaw in his bargaining.
“So once the wolves got what they wanted,” the second mouse said,
“they told Octavo he was coming with them.”
“Octavo didn’t like that one bit,” the third mouse said. “He started
screaming about how they had an arrangement, and he would pay them the
sheep he agreed to, as long as they let him live.”
“But the wolf in charge had it figured out,” said the first mouse. “He
told Octavo they agreed to let Octavo live, but they didn’t agree to where
they were going to let him live, or for how long.”
“Or for how long,” said the second mouse.
“Or for how long,” said the third mouse.
“So it’s as if they didn’t want the sheep,” said Hero, “they wanted
Octavo.”
“Where did they end up taking him?” asked Marylou.
“They are taking him to Goatsbeard Dam,” answered the first mouse.
“They said they are going to throw him over the dam as a sign the wolves
are superior to humans. But they did say they are going to have to skirt
around the city in order to get there, because they don’t want anyone to see
them.”
“So it is going to take them a little bit of time to get up to the dam,”
said Marylou and Hero nodded agreeing. Getting to Goatsbeard Dam would
not take very long if you went directly through the town of Broken Straw.
But if you skirted around the village, completely avoiding all the apple
orchards, and then the smaller farms surrounding the town (even though
most of them were empty in fear of the wolves) it would take you quite a
while. Hero knew which trails the wolves were probably going to take, and
he knew what trails they could take to possibly catch up to them.
“Yeah, it’s going to take them a long time to get there,” agreed the
first mouse. “But they will probably reach the top of the dam by first thing
tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning,” agreed the second mouse.
“Tomorrow morning,” agreed the third mouse.
“Tomorrow morning,” agreed Marylou.
“Okay,” said Hero, “we need to catch them before they kill Octavo.”
25- Mission: Save Octavo

Hero and Marylou crested Goatsbeard Dam on the East side of the
river just as the wolves crested the West side. Hero and Marylou crouched
as low to the ground as they could to take in as much observational
information as possible in as little time as possible.
“Octavo is with them,” Marylou whispered.
“And he doesn’t look hurt,” Hero whispered back.
Octavo was in the center of the wolves, being herded toward the
dam. He didn’t look like his spirit had been broken, instead he looked regal.
Not a prisoner being led to his execution, but instead a prince being led to
his coronation. “Only Octavo,” Hero thought. The wolves hadn’t seen the
two humans yet, but Hero was sure he would be noticed soon.
At this distance Hero could just make out that one of the wolves was
starting to sniff the air. It wouldn’t be long now. The first wolf said
something to a second, and now both of the giant creatures were sniffing
the air. It was not long after daylight, and the air was calm, which was
allowing the humans scents to easily be carried to the wolves.
The crispness in the air was biting at the nervous sweat forming on
Hero’s brow. This was it. But how do they get at the wolves without being
noticed? With that many wolves in the open, the humans would surely be
at the disadvantage, but there had to be a way to sneak up on them.
“We need a plan,” Hero whispered to Marylou.
“There’s no time for a plan,” Marylou whispered back harshly.
“When do we attack?” Hero asked.
“Now!” Marylou yelled.
And with the yell of a banshee, similar to her battle cry weeks ago,
she took off in a run across the crest of the dam. Hero cursed under his
breath and started running after her, taking a knife out of his belt with his
right hand, and trying to get his half-moon hatchet off his back with his left
hand as he ran.
The knife was sailing through the air past Marylou’s head as soon as
it was in his hand, and he was drawing a second. The throw of the knife was
a preemptory strike only accomplishing in Hero losing a knife. But Hero
hoped it made the wolves realize he could at least get a little bit of distance
in his attack. If that were not going to be an advantage, then it was going to
at least be in the back of the wolves minds.
The wolves noticed the humans coming across the dam toward
them, and all the wolves except one started running to meet the humans
head on at the center of the dam. The final wolf, the largest wolf, stayed
behind guarding Octavo. They were not going to slip up and let the goat-
man easily escape. But, Hero thought, at least they are not going to have to
face all the wolves at the same time while balanced on the top of the dam.
“They are running too fast,” Marylou said.
“They are going to try and force a collision,” Hero said, “Don’t let any
of them on the other side of us. We can’t fight them if they have us
surrounded on this narrow surface.”
The collision came faster than Hero expected. Marylou was still in
the lead, and she led with her staff outstretched in front of her. The first
wolf saw her level off the staff, and went to jump over her. As the beast
sailed through the air, Marylou brought her staff around in an axe like swing
catching the wolf in the center of the chest just as he was about to sail over
their heads. Hero saw the opportunity to not only prevent the wolf from
getting past, but also to get ahead of Marylou. While Marylou had swung
the staff, he had started running harder behind her. Just when the staff
connected with the wolf, Hero jumped, pushing off of Marylou’s shoulders,
and brought the force of his body just behind the swing of the staff.
Hero connected with the wolf just after the bow staff did. His body
weight pushing the wolf back the way he had come, and then crashing to the
ground on top of him. Hero still had his hatchet in his hand, and was quickly
bringing a chop of his own down on the wolf, when he received a tail whip
to the head from the next wolf. The move knocked Hero down on top of the
jumping wolf a second time.
The humans had a little bit better luck standing side-by-side on the
narrow crest of the dam than the wolves did, but the wolves were still able
to with a little effort. Not long after Hero rolled off the wolf (the wolf he
realized was the same one Marylou had smashed in the throat so long ago)
they were fighting two by two.
The wolves had the advantage of numbers, but the narrow dam
made the numbers more equalized. It was five against two with the sixth
wolf remaining behind with Octavo. Hero wondered how long they would
be able to hold out. As soon as the front two wolves would get tired, the
next two behind them would jump over the top and give the front two a
rest.
Marylou had a better advantage with her staff. She was constantly
connecting staff with flesh of the wolves, but never hard enough to knock
one of them off the dam. If they could manage to do that, the fall would
surely be deadly. And if not deadly, it would at least make the numbers
closer to even. The fall from the dam was at least a hundred feet down from
this point, and the sharp rocks in the shallow stream below them would
cause instant death to anyone, or anything, that fell upon them.
Hero was having trouble getting any blows in, his weapons were for
too close a range. He didn’t want to throw anymore knives because he
wanted to conserve them in case the wolves were able to close the distance
past Marylou. His heart was racing as he kept his hatchet at the ready, and
sheathed what knives he had.
“Duck,” Marylou said. Hero did, as Marylou spun the opposite
direction, bringing the staff left to right instead of right to left. The staff
sailed over Hero’s head, and he heard a crack and a yelp as the staff
connected with the head of a wolf. The blow was almost enough to knock
the wolf off balance, but not quite enough. The wolf did stumble into the
wolf at his left, however, and almost knocked Captain off the dam and into
the water on the less steep side.
Marylou’s weapon was effective at a distance, but not dangerously
effective. Hero’s weapons were dangerously effective close up, but couldn’t
reach the distance he needed them to in this battle. There had to be a way
they could combine their attacks.
Another crack sounded as Marylou’s staff hit the top of the dam this
time in an overhead swing. The wolf it hit in front of tried to grab at the
staff, but Marylou quickly parried and brought the staff straight up into the
wolves jaw.
“That was close,” Hero said.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do these long swings, Hero,”
Marylou said. And Hero could hear the panting in her voice. She was
starting to get tired from all the swinging.
“We have to combine our attacks, Marylou.”
 “How?”
“I don’t know, but it seems to me a good way for us to get a little bit
of advantage. Otherwise the wolves are just going to keep switching, and
we are going to get worn out while they are still fresh,” and just as Hero said
it, the wolves jumped and switched, giving two new wolves in the front.
The fighting resumed. Hero was now trying to be ready to pounce
when Marylou connected with a swing of her bow. The only problem was
the wolves were starting to expect the swings from Marylou. She was
getting tired, too, and her swings were not coming with as much force as
before. The swings were coming so much slower, that the wolves were
trying to catch the swings as they went by.
If they were able to catch Marylou’s bow staff and take it away from
her, the humans would be at a serious disadvantage. Had Hero not been
attempting a double attack to coincide with Marylou’s swings, he was sure
they would have already been able to take the staff away. The wolves,
though, were leery of his attacking ability with the hatchet.
As the wolves jump switched again, Hero said, “Marylou, let them
catch the staff for a moment.”
“What, have you gone mad?”
“Trust me, Marylou, I have an idea.”
The next swing over her head came down on top of the dam with a
loud crack, Marylou left the staff on the ground for a split second longer
than she usually would have. Hero didn’t try a lunge following her attack
this time, so the wolves had plenty of opportunity to grab the staff while it
was on the ground.
The wolf took the bait. He grabbed the staff in his massive jaws and
started pulling straight back, pulling Marylou towards the other wolves.
“Ok, Hero, what’s that plan?”
“Hold steady, Marylou.”
“Uh, Hero?”
But she didn’t question much longer. She heard the whish of the
knife as it sailed past her head, and straight for the wolf. Hero knew if the
wolf grabbed the staff, he would be locked into place long enough that he
could connect with a knife throw.
And connect, he did. The knife sliced right into the wolves shoulder,
and stuck there. The wolf howled in pain, releasing Marylou’s staff. Hero
had a second knife ready, but hesitated just a moment too long, and didn’t
get a clear shot at the wolf.
The wolf locked eyes with Hero, and started to creep forward
toward the man. Hero stood his ground with his hatchet at the ready. The
wolf kept coming, his anger and pain driving him toward Hero on the narrow
surface.
“Baldran,” Captain growled, “You lose yourself.”
But the warning came too late, Marylou’s staff was already coming
down in an overhead arc. The staff connected dead-on with the knife
already stuck in the wolf’s shoulder. The force of the blow drove the knife
even further into the wolf’s shoulder. Baldran screamed in pain as he fell off
his feet and his body hit the dam.
Captain countered Marylou’s blow just enough to make the humans
take a step backward. As the humans stepped backward, the wolf behind
Baldran leapt over the injured wolf. Now, the humans had another fresh
wolf to face.
“One down,” Hero told Marylou.
“How many knives do you have left?”
“Not enough, but I don’t think it would work again,” Hero said, his
adrenaline still rushing. “We need to try something else. Similar, but
different, because they are going to see it coming.”
After a few more blows and parries with the staff, Marylou left it on
the ground for a split second again. Long enough for Captain to pick it up.
Only Captain didn’t pull straight back like Baldran had, Captain started to
shake his head. A twisting fury that took all Marylou had in order to stay in
control of her staff and not lose her balance.
As Marylou held on, Hero jumped and then pushed off on her staff
with his feet. He was using the staff like a spring board, to push his
momentum even harder. As he pushed off, he angled his body toward
Captain and brought his hatchet back to swing.
The force of his swing would have decapitated the large wolf. The
force would have given him and Marylou a distinct advantage because not
only was he going to chop this wolves head off, he was going to kick with his
feet when he made contact and push the other wolf off the dam. His plan
was perfect, except for one fatal flaw: Captain saw the attack coming.
Just as Hero was about to make contact, blade to fur, the giant wolf
ducked. The momentum of Hero’s swing made him spin in midair, and then
start to carry him over the edge of the dam. At the last instant he twisted
again and tried to grab for the lip of the dam before he fell the hundred feet
to the rocks below.
Marylou saw what was happening, and dropped her staff, and ran
for Hero trying to grab for him. She reached him just as he reached the
edge. His manic grip for the edge of the dam resulted in him connecting
with Marylou. His left hand grasped her right hand, as he dangled over the
edge of the dam.
“Don’t hurt her!” came Captains cry.
It seemed like an eternity as Hero dangled from Marylou’s hand over
the edge of the dam. Marylou lay on her stomach, her outstretched hand
holding Hero with all her might. Her strength was giving, but so was his.
Hero was trying to get a footing to relieve the strain on both of their arms.
But finding footing was as difficult as getting his other arm high enough for
Marylou to grab. There was no use, he was going to fall.
“Marylou, I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”
“I won’t give up on you, Hero!”
And then there came a mighty wind. The wolf standing with Octavo
on the side of the dam had pursed lips and was blowing. Only the wind
wasn’t directly blowing on Hero, and the wind wasn’t directly blowing on
Marylou. Then Hero saw why.
The wolf they had injured was lifting into the air and was starting to
sail toward the pair of humans. Baldran was in a panic and was attempting
to run in midair. The wolf sailed just over Hero’s head, and then the wind
stopped.
Baldran fell right on top of Hero. The weight of the wolf came down
on Hero’s head, and his grip in Marylou’s hand was slipping as the wolf
rolled over his shoulders and down his body. The panicking wolf was
clawing at everything trying to get back in control. Then, the claws finally
found something to dig into, Hero’s thigh.
The weight of Hero and the giant wolf were too much for the
human’s grip. With a snap, the grip the humans had on each other’s hands
disappeared, and Hero knew he was going to fall. Just as their fingers
separated completely, the wolf finally started to fall.
Baldran, free of Hero, began plummeting to his death at the bottom
of the dam.
Hero was falling right behind him.
“Hero! NOOOOO!” Marylou screamed. The last thing she saw was
Hero falling toward the rocks at the bottom of the hundred foot fall below
them. He would surely die on impact.
Hero heard Marylou’s scream, but he wasn’t concerned about that,
or his own fate. His heart broke, as the last thing he saw was the remaining
wolves pouncing on top of Marylou on top of the dam. She didn’t stand a
chance.
26- Evidence

Detective Frank Glub stepped down from the carriage that carried
him all the way to the Cabra Plantation. Before he even gave a good look to
the house, before his foot had even touched the ground outside the house,
he knew something was wrong. He had an intuition for things like this.
There was just something wrong with the way the house looked.
“Fan out,” he told the twenty members of the King’s Guard riding
with him. “If there is anyone around, I want you to detain them for
questioning. You two are coming with me.” The two guardsmen he pointed
at abruptly came up to his side to join him on his way to the front door.
The ground in front of the house had no sign of recent activity,
except for the few boot prints of the guardsmen moving in front of him. As
he looked closer to the ground, Glub realized there were absolutely no
prints at all. The ground had been swept with a pine branch to eliminate
any and all prints on the ground.
“Stay on guard, men, this might get dangerous,” Glub told the two
guards at his side.
He quickly walked the steps up onto the front porch, and pounded
on the door. The house made an ominously empty sound as the pounds of
the detectives fists reverberated. The detective ignored the tingling
sensation on the back of his neck as he pounded on the door again.
“Octavo Cabra, it is Detective Frank Glub,” Glub announced. “I am
here on an anonymous tip that I should make sure you are okay.”
One of the two King’s Guards had walked over to the large front
window that looked over the front porch. He put his hands up against the
window to block any glare, and peered inside.
“Detective,” the man said, “It looks pretty torn up in there.”
“Torn up dirty, or torn up criminally?” Glub asked. He had learned
over his years as detective to not trust other people’s observation, and
every word could be vague.
“Torn up criminally,” the guard answered. “I don’t think there is a
single piece of furniture that has not been overturned. From this point I
cannot tell if there was some physical altercation, or if there was just
somebody tearing the place apart looking for something.”
“If he doesn’t answer on the next knock, we are forcing our way in,”
Glub told the men.
“Detective!” came a shout from around the back of the house, “I
think you had better come see this!”
The urgency in the man’s voice made the detective do something he
had not done very often, he ran to the back of the house. The two
guardsmen on his flanks the whole way around the house. Glub didn’t know
if they were protecting him, or just simply following him, but on he ran.
Glub took in the scene at the back of the house.
The back door had been broken off of it’s hinges. Glub could see
inside the house, and the damage the first guard told him about by looking
through the window. Through the middle of the opening in the door, there
was a blood trail leading from somewhere inside the house, off the porch,
and somewhere into the woods. Glub saw something in the middle of the
doorway, imprinted in the middle of the blood stained path.
A boot print.
“I don’t want anyone disturbing this evidence,” Glub told the
guardsmen. “I need multiple witnesses to see this boot print, and I want
someone to trace the size of the boot and the tread on the bottom. It’s not
much to go on, but it’s a clue.”
Glub squatted down next to the print, and then saw there were
more boot prints in the blood, and the dust created from the carnage that
destroyed the rooms beyond. Whoever was here, was here just after the
fight took place.
“I want a pair of men to go inside,” Glub told the guards. “You need
to watch each other’s backs and make sure you do not destroy any of my
evidence. I need to know if anyone is inside. If anyone is injured, get them
out right away.”
Glub followed the faint trail of the boot prints that walked along the
blood trail toward the edge of the porch. If the person were not careful,
they would give Glub another clue as to their identity. Once he had their
identity, he would get his man.
“Detective Glub!” the shout came from one of the men inside the
house. “Detective, we have bodies. Two of them.”
But the detective wasn’t listening anymore, he had found his next
clue. On the edge of the back porch, next to the wood pile, he found more
tracks. There were tiny mouse tracks cris-crossing through the blood. The
mouse tracks he was not interested in, what he was interested in were the
boot prints. They stopped and hesitated here, as if the person had spent a
little bit of time next to the wood pile. But, even more importantly was
what was next to the wood pile. There, in the dirt, was the imprint of a
weapon. A weapon someone had set down for whatever reason, to rest, or
to adjust their grip, but nevertheless it had been set down. It was a small
sharp shape in the dust that looked like a hatchet with a half-moon blade.
“Hero.”
27- Awakening

All Hero could see, was black.

For what seemed like several minutes, he had been trying to gain his
bearings. All of which was in vain, because no matter what he did, all he
could see was black. It took him a while to muster enough conscious
thoughts to realize he was lying on his back. After that, he hadn’t been able
to gather much more data. His head was fuzzy, and he was surrounded by
darkness.
Trying a new approach, Hero tried to remember what happened to
him last. Had he hit his head on something? Maybe. But what, and why?
He remembered Marylou screaming his name, but why was she screaming?
Where was she, anyway? He could remember Octavo. . . was he crying?
There had to be something else.
There was something else besides the fuzziness, there was pain.
Where was the pain coming from? It was below the waist, and below the
knee on his left leg. The pain was a burning sensation, but he wasn’t burnt,
it was more like a deep scratch. Not broken, maybe bleeding, but definitely
badly scratched. No, his leg wasn’t bleeding, he could tell that lying here on
his back. His pants leg was torn, though, and torn pretty badly. Now, what
tore his pants leg?
Trying to summon more energy, Hero flexed his fingers, they all still
worked. Why was he so exhausted? Well, no matter, his eyes weren’t
working right now, so all he could do was lie here and try to think. He flexed
his fingers again, just to prove to himself he could, and he felt something
smooth running between them.
Something cold and smooth was around both his hands, and on his
legs. Cold, smooth, and grainy. Hero processed the three characteristics in
his head, and then he came up with the answer: sand. That made sense,
especially considering the gurgling noise he was hearing coming from below
him. The gurgles must be the sound of water, and along with the sand must
mean he is next to the river.
Hero was coming to.
He then realized the reason he couldn’t see anything was because it
was night. But hadn’t it just been midday? He tried to remember what time
of day it was when he had his last thoughts, and then got frustrated trying to
figure out when his last thought was. Hero went back to concentrating on
the night, in the pitch black all around him. There was no light coming from
either horizon, everything was completely dark. But, with everything dark,
why were there no stars? He thought on this for a few more moments, and
then decided the reason there were no stars was because he was
underneath trees, which made perfectly good sense considering he was by a
river.
“Well,” Hero thought to himself, “It is dark, in the middle of the
night. I am already lying down, so I might as well sleep a little.”
He closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep, when he suddenly
remembered everything. Marylou was screaming. He was hanging by one
hand over the edge of the dam. The wolves pounced on Marylou. Another
wolf fell off the dam and grabbed his leg. And then both he and the wolf
plummeted to the river and rocks below.
“Marylou!” Hero gasped, and tried to sit up. But with the sudden
motion, he saw bright lights coming from every corner of his open eyes, and
then stars swirling in front of his face, and he fell back to the sand. He must
have hurt his head pretty badly, the stars didn’t go away.
Then Hero realized there was a small patch of stars he could just
make out between the gaps of two conifer trees up above him. In the gap
he could see two constellations, Big Bear and Little Bear. These were two of
his favorites, because they constantly swirled in the sky nearly straight up,
and you could see them year round. Unfortunately, they did not give him an
opportunity to tell the time of night.
He realized there was not a lot for him to do right now. He was in
considerable pain. He had no idea where he was. And it was the middle of a
very dark night. Unfortunately, thoughts on Marylou and Octavo would
have to wait.
So, while staring at Big Bear and Little Bear, head still throbbing,
Hero drifted off to sleep. . . the kind of sweet and uninterrupted sleep one
will only have when suffering from a major concussion.

*****
 This time, Hero awoke feeling nothing but severe pain in his head. It
was a headache to end all headaches, and there was nothing he could do to
escape the pain. He lay with his eyes closed for some time, trying to force
the pain out of his brain.
When he finally did open his eyes, he was dismayed to find he was
still staring up at Little Bear. Not much time had passed. But then, he
thought, “wait a minute, it is bright outside.” And then he thought, “wait a
minute, stars are not visible when it is bright.” And then he finally thought,
“wait a minute, Little Bear is staring back at me!”
Hero scrambled to his knees, trying to put some distance between
himself and the bear. He fought the dizziness and the pain in his head,
pushing and willing his legs to cooperate. He started to reach for his
hatchet, and found it was not hanging from its’ usual spot on his belt loop.
Then he started to reach for his knives, but thought better of that as well.
There was no way a knife would be a viable weapon against a bear.
His only opportunity was to run, so Hero ran. He scrambled to his
knees, and then to all fours, and then he was able to get to his feet. All the
while pushing his legs as hard as they would go, trying to gather as much
speed as he could. His feet pushed the loose sand, and finally caught
traction, and off he sped.
Hero pushed out of the sand as fast as he could, and then hit the
harder pack just away from the stream. By this time his feet were moving so
fast that he rocketed away from the bear. Hero cut in front of a scotch
broom bush, and then he crossed behind a pampas grass. He knew a bear
could outrun him, but he also knew as long as he didn’t run in a straight line,
the bear would have trouble keeping up.
Finally he ran as far as a douglas fir that had a few low hanging
limbs, and he started to climb. He would climb to higher ground, out of the
bears reach, and then wait for it to get tired of him, and lumber off to
somewhere else. Fighting the pain in his head, and the complaints from his
left leg, he pushed up the tree as hard as he could, until he finally felt he
were out of range of the bear.
It must have been five to ten minutes he sat in the tree, afraid and
unwilling to look down. First giant wolves, and now this? The bear had
better be on his way. He heard a sniffing sound coming from on the ground
below him, but he was still unable to look down, for fear he would see the
bear just waiting for his limbs to tire, and for him to fall down and be lunch.
But then Hero heard a voice below him. It sounded like the voice of
a young adolescent boy. It was a voice that hadn’t yet matured, and the
voice of someone that should also be trying to get away from the bear
chasing him.
“Hi up there!” Came the chipper voice.
“Um. . . Hi,” Hero replied down, still without looking.
“Whatcha doin’ up there?” The voice asked.
“Trying to get away from a bear,” Hero called back down, “He is
close behind me, you should probably climb a tree too so he doesn’t get
you.”
“You know bears can climb trees,” The voice answered him.
“They can?” Hero asked, as he finally looked down. And Hero could
not believe his eyes (though when he thought about it shortly later, he
didn’t know why he couldn’t believe his eyes, it all made perfect sense).
There was nothing at the base of the tree below him, except for the bear he
had seen earlier. “Is that you talking, bear?”
“The name’s Baby Bear, but you can call me Baby,” the bear replied.
“You aren’t going to eat me, are you Baby?”
“Heavens, no!” Laughed Baby Bear, “I’m a vegetarian.”
“A vegetarian bear?” asked Hero. He was somewhat stalling for
time. He didn’t want to take the bear on his word, but at the same time, he
had nowhere else to go. It was either hang out in the tree until Baby
stopped watching him, or trust Baby wouldn’t have an early dinner.
“Yes, that means that I don’t eat meat,” said Baby, “But I guess you
are a human, so you would call me an herbivore.”
“So, you don’t eat humans?” Hero persisted.
“No, they are made out of meat,” Baby answered, laughing. “I like
to eat berries, honey, some vegetables, but my favorite is porridge.”
Hero knew, as everyone knows, that bears love to eat. He had never
met a vegetarian bear before. But, after he thought about it for a few
moments, he had never met a bear that could talk before either. So, he
decided to trust the bear.
“Ok, Baby, since you said you weren’t going to eat me, I’m coming
down,” Hero called down. While he thought, “so please don’t go back on
your word.”
 When Hero reached the bottom of the tree, Baby Bear was sniffing
the air. So Hero gave him the once over. He hadn’t noticed at first, but it
seemed Baby was wearing a blue and white polka-dotted bandana around
his neck, which offset his very dark brown fur very nicely. His eyes were a
dark brown as well, and his nose was as dark as wet charcoal.
“Do you smell something, Baby?” Hero asked him.
“My mom’s cooking,” Baby Bear answered with glee, “She is making
porridge, Mama’s porridge is my favorite. Sometimes we have to wait for it
to cool a little while, but most of the time it is just right.” Baby Bear’s
thoughts drifted on the thoughts of porridge for a little while, his eyes in a
different place, remembering the taste of the first bite touching his tongue
with just a pinch of cinnamon. Baby Bear’s stomach grumbled.
To his surprise, Hero’s stomach grumbled as well.
“Sounds like you’re hungry, too,” laughed Baby. “Come on, let’s go
to my house and eat breakfast. Mama always cooks a little extra.”
Hero figured he had nothing better to do than follow the bear off
into the woods. He was feeling hungry after all, and the way Baby Bear
described his mothers porridge was making him hungrier by the minute.
“Baby Bear,” Hero asked after a bit, “Are you sure I won’t be
imposing?”
“Huh?” was the only answer Hero could get out of the Bear, his mind
lost in the soon coming taste of his mother’s cooking. She always added
cinnamon, but maybe this time since there would be a guest, she would add
a couple drops of honey, too.
Before long, Hero and Baby happened across a log cabin in the
woods. The cabin was made out of solid logs from floor to roof. There were
two windows and a door in the middle of them. From inside Hero could
smell what Baby had been smelling the whole time, hot porridge with a
touch of cinnamon. Hero tried to pay more attention to how the cabin was
built, but with the smell of the porridge calling his nose, all he could think
was that the shape and size of the cabin was just right.
As everyone was sitting down to breakfast, the introductions went
very quickly. Surprisingly the bears didn’t mind a human companion for
dinner, and they were more than happy to share the meal. Baby was right,
too, Mama Bear (a large female brown bear who favored a red apron and
yellow oven mitts while she was cooking) had made extra “just in case”
someone came to visit.
Papa Bear was also a very large brown bear, and all he wore was a
fishing hat, which had three bait flies, two hooks, and a float attached to the
top. He was a humble bear who liked to listen to other’s problems. (“No,
no, I’m not one for giving advice,” he had told Hero when Hero had
mentioned his latest dilemma. But Hero had a feeling he would offer a lot of
advice)
Hero was telling Papa Bear his story up to this point of his adventure
while they sat on a wooden swing on the front porch of the cabin. Papa
Bear was listening intently while chewing the end of a corn-cob pipe which
was emitting slow curls of white smoke into the air from the corn cob end.
The swing was slowly rocking back and forth with the rhythm of Papa Bear’s
breathing, while they could hear the clanging of dishes coming from the
inside kitchen. Baby Bear was about thirty yards off, in the lawn chasing
butterflies.
“So now, I don’t have my hatchet. My boss has been kidnapped, so I
don’t know if I’m going back to jail or if I should just run and hide. Marylou
has been taken prisoner, but she said herself she has nothing left to live for,
so I don’t know if I should even care about her. I really think she has been
taking extra risks lately anyway. And, lastly, I have no idea where I am,”
Hero concluded.
“It sounds like what you need to be doin’,” grumbled Papa in a deep
voice, “Is forgettin’ all this foolishness about wolves, jail, jobs, and women.
Then once you have it forgot, you should be preparin’ for winter.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant to what I. . .” Hero started.
“Find a couple nice trees with lots of nuts, they will last all winter.
Then stack them in the back of the cave, making sure you don’t have any
bugs. . .” Papa looked down at Hero and paused at the blank look Hero was
giving him. “You mean to tell me you don’t have a cave?”
“Uh, no Mr. Bear, I don’t.”
“He’s a human, Papa,” Mama Bear said from the doorway. “Humans
don’t live in caves, and they don’t hibernate either. I really wish you’d give
some thought before you start spoutin’ off your advice.”
“Oh, uh, sorry there lad,” Papa fumbled, “I just get so caught up in
the seasons, it’s hard for me to focus on anything else.”
“It’s ok, Mr. Bear,” Hero replied.
 “Call me Papa,” Papa said. “I get so involved with what is going on
with me, I never think about other animals, all I think about is me. I like to
do some fishin’, and some nut gatherin’, and eat Mama’s porridge (it’s just
right, you know), and I never really think of anything else but myself and
what I should be doing. Instead what I should be doing is thinking about
what I should do for other animals. Now Vincent, up the way. . .”
“I’m sorry, Papa,” Hero interrupted, having a mental breakthrough,
“but what did you just say?”
“I said I never think about other animals, I only think about myself.”
Suddenly, Hero knew the right thing to do. All this time he was
worried about himself, and what he would do to get out of the mess he was
in. He never thought about how Marylou must feel with all the things that
happened to her, and how she probably needed Hero right now because he
was the only real thing she had left in her life, and she was the first real
friend he had in ages. He had never thought about Octavo, the man-goat
that had taken a chance on him, and got him a stay of execution. He hadn’t
even thought about the fear his two friends must be feeling. He had never
even thought about all the people of Broken Straw who were terrified with
the wolf attacks day in and day out, and how with Octavo gone, the wolf
attacks would be worse and more frequent. All Hero was ever concerned
about, was Hero.
Hero had never felt so ashamed in his life.
“I’m sorry Mama and Papa, but I need to be on my way.”
“What, so soon?” asked Mama Bear.
“Yes, I really need to be getting back on my quest,” Hero said and
then thought, “and helping my friends out of danger.” He didn’t say it out
loud, because he was ashamed of having the original thought about
abandoning his friends.
“You can stay and rest for a little while if you want,” Mama Bear
said.
Baby Bear stuck his nose up from trying to catch butterflies, “You
can sleep in my bed, Hero, it’s just right.”
“I’m sure it would be Baby Bear, but I really do need to be going.”
“If you insist,” Papa Bear said.
“If I can ask you for one favor, Papa Bear,” said Hero, “Could you
please show me as far as a well beaten trail that will lead me back to Broken
Straw?”
28- Back to Broken Straw

Papa Bear walked with Hero for about four hundred yards before
they came to a fairly well beaten path. Hero was so disoriented, he didn’t
know which way to go, so he asked.
“Follow the path that way,” Papa Bear said while pointing to the
East. “Walk on it for about a quarter of the day. About the time the sun gets
high in the sky, you will come across a large hollowed out oak. The path will
then turn North, but if you walk through the forest at that point for about
fifty paces, you will come to the main road into town.”
Hero just stood and rudely stared at Papa Bear. “You mean to tell
me there is a path this well traveled, that close to the main road, and
humans don’t know about it?”
“Shoot no,” said Papa Bear. “Of course humans don’t know about
it. We don’t want them walking on the path and discovering us talking
animals and such down the way.”
“There are more of you?”
“Of course there are,” answered Papa Bear, “There’s us bears, the
dwarves, a cat that plays the fiddle, and Vincent of course, he’s a talking
frog. He claims he is really a prince, but, well, that’s a little farfetched, even
for us.”
“I would love to meet you all someday,” replied Hero. “But as for
now, I really must be getting on my way.”
“It was a pleasure Hero,” said Papa Bear, “And good luck on your
journey.”
“Hero, wait!” Came a shrill voice from behind them. “Wait up, Hero,
wait up!”
“What is it Baby?”
“I found this in the river, and I thought it might belong to you,” Baby
said between gasping breaths. He had needed to run to catch up to them.
“It looks like a human tool of some kind.”
Baby Bear handed Hero his hatchet.
“Thank you so much, Baby Bear!” Hero exclaimed.
“Aw, shucks,” said Baby. And if a Bear could blush, he would
probably be doing so right this instant. But, instead, he drug his paw across
the dirt in front of him and was looking down at the ground.
Hero said the rest of his goodbye’s, and then started his journey
toward the town of Broken Straw.

*****

Hero had been walking for quite some time before the sun was high
in the sky. He had been looking for the old hollowed out oak for a while
now. The bears directions seemed pretty reliable, but he didn’t want to
miss the point the path ran in with the road. The forest the path followed
had a lot of old growth trees, with gnarly looking branches, but none of
them were hollowed out oak trees. Hero hoped he hadn’t gone too far.
Just as he was thinking about turning around and going back to see if
there was an oak he may have walked by on accident, he came to the tree.
The tree was massive, so big around he would have needed three people
stretched fingertip to fingertip in order to reach completely around it. At
the base of the tree, and extending up about fifteen feet, there was a burnt
out section of the tree that had to have come from many years ago. The
younger growth on the tree was starting to curve in around where the tree
had been burnt, almost completely covering the black scars.
“Well,” Hero said to himself, “this has to be it.”
So he ventured straight off the path and into the woods. He was
only a few paces off the trail when he saw the main road to Broken Straw.
He hurried the rest of the way to the road, and continued on toward the
town.
After another half an hour he could see the town in the distance. He
figured he was close enough now, he could take a small break. He found the
remains of an old rock wall made years ago, in the shade of a small pine.
Thinking this was a perfect rest spot, he walked up to the wall, put his back
against it, and sat down.
“Hello, there.”
Hero nearly jumped out of his skin! He hadn’t seen anyone around,
and fearful of running into another talking creature, he started looking
around for what could be talking to him.
“I’m up here, silly. Sitting on the wall.”
 Hero turned and looked up, trying to distinguish what he was looking
at.
“Excuse me,” Hero began, “I didn’t see you up there.”
“Oh, it’s no worries, you must be the young Hero everyone is talking
about.”
“You know my name?”
“Of course I know your name,” said the boy thing, “Everyone in town
knows about you. The detective is looking for you, ya know. He says you
went and killed Octavo Cabra. As for myself, I don’t believe any of that hog-
wash. As a matter of fact, the Gingerbread Man told me. . .”
“You know the Gingerbread Man?”
“My, my, you do ask a lot of silly questions, don’t you?” stated the
boy. “Anyway, the Gingerbread Man told me what the Three Blind Mice
said about Octavo being kidnapped by the Big-Bad Wolf pack. I think that
story is much more likely. Those wolves have always been after Octavo,
ever since this town was first born. Have you heard that story, Hero? It’s a
good one.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the story.”
“As for you, though,” the boy continued, while dangling his feet back
and forth over the wall, “I don’t think you should be going into town. That
Detective Frank Glub will find you for sure if you go into the town. No, you
need to stay a fugitive until someone else can get your alibi or figure out
what really happened to Octavo.”
“The wolves have my only alibi,” Hero said, “And as long as Glub is
looking for me, he is never going to find out what really happened. He
doesn’t believe in you fairytale creatures, you see?”
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s a shame really, but the most of us don’t want
to be found out about. So, the ones that don’t mind, like myself, usually
stay hidden. The king knows about me, though, he is a good friend of mine.
His men and his horses help me out quite a bit.”
“You’re a friend of the king?”
“There you go with those silly questions, again.”
“Sorry, I’m just a little distracted,” Hero admitted, “I’ve been trying
to figure out exactly what you are. Are you an egg?”
“No, no, no,” the boy laughed, his belly not moving with the
laughter. “Me mum was an egg, though. My pa was a normal human, just
like you. So I guess I am half egg.”
Hero looked at the boy for a while, and decided “half egg” made
more sense than “full egg.” The boy did have arms, and legs. But his arms
and legs seemed very fragile, as if they barely had enough meat on the
bones in order to hold him up. His body was a large oval (which is what
tipped Hero off about the egg) and the boy didn’t have a neck at all. The
body of the boy just merged completely with his head.
“Do you have a name?” asked Hero, “My name is Hero.”
“Oh, of course I have a name,” laughed the boy, he leaned over on
the wall, extending his hand so Hero could shake it. “Humpty P. Dumpty, is
my name. It’s a pleasure to meet. . . WOAH!”
Hero watched in horror as Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. He tried
to catch the boy as he fell, but he wasn’t quick enough, and the boy fell right
to the hard packed ground below him. Hitting himself very hard in what
Hero could only guess was his head. Where the point of impact was, a small
crack formed across the boy’s egg like shape, and a yellow substance started
to ooze from the crack.
“Oh my gosh!” Hero cried, “Are you ok, Humpty? There is
something leaking from your head!”
“Ouch,” was Humpty’s first reply. And then, “Guess I’ve gone and
fallen off the dang wall again. That’s the third time this month.” Humpty
put his hand up to where the crack on his head was, “Oh jeez, and will you
look at that? My yolk is leaking.”
“What can I do to help you, Humpty?” Hero asked in a panic.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Humpty Dumpty replied, “All the King’s
horses and all the King’s men will be along shortly. They know what to do to
put me back together. You should be hiding yourself, you don’t want to be
seen in the town of Broken Straw, they’ll arrest you.”
Hero didn’t really want to be seen with Humpty P. Dumpty, either.
Someone would think he pushed this poor kid off the wall. Not to mention,
the blow to the head must have jarred Humpty’s brain a little; him
mentioning the King’s horses would help put him back together. Hero
understood the King’s men would probably help, but the horses? Yeah, this
boy needed help soon, and probably more mental help than physical help.
“Ok, Humpty,” Hero said, “Thanks for the advice, I will do what I can
to not be seen.”
 “Good luck, Hero,” Humpty said, as Hero started to jog into the
orchards surrounding Broken Straw, “I really hope the men and horses
hurry, I really hurt myself this time.”
Hero was already into the first trees in the orchard closest to the
road, and didn’t hear the last bit from Humpty. He needed to get into town.
He knew the bartender, Jerry, would be able to tell him what was going on.
Jerry might even be able to replace the few knives Hero lost. The problem
was, Hero didn’t know how much time he had lost, and how much time the
wolves had for a head start.
He couldn’t wait for nightfall, he needed to sneak into town now.
29- A Final Plan

Hero didn’t have the time to wait for night to fall, he needed to
enter the town now, and for a couple reasons. First is he needed to know if
Jerry knew anything about where the wolves might be, and second is he
needed to resupply. He took Humpty’s words to heart, though, and tried to
remain out of sight.
Getting near the village without being seen was easy, there were not
a lot of citizens out in the streets even in the middle of the day. There were
a few fishing near the village, but none on this side. Hero crept into the
village using as many alley’s and business access channels as he could,
staying away from the main streets.
He had also devised a plan to meet with Jerry, without being seen.
As he neared Jerry’s bar, he already had his note written, it said “Jerry, meet
me at Fontane Supply in thirty minutes.” The note was the first step, the
second step was to find a rock, once found he used the tie of his boot (he
could get another one at the supply company) to tie the note to the rock.
In a brisk walk, with his head down, Hero crossed from one alley to
the next in front of the Axeman Pub. As he walked past the saloon door, he
pitched the rock into the building, and kept walking. It was only another
two streets over to Fontane Supply, and he was going to walk there briskly,
keeping his head down.
By the time Jerry had showed up at Fontane Supply, Hero had
already figured out how to break in, had his boot strap replaced, and was
looking at what few knives were remaining on the shelves. He had also been
eyeing a second hatchet, this one with a more typical blade, but figured he
needed diversity in his attacks. There had to be a way to lengthen and
strengthen his range.
“I thought it might be you, Hero,” Jerry said as Hero inspected the
blade on a large butcher’s knife.
“Jerry, I’m at a loss of what to do, and I may need your help,” Hero
wasn’t wasting time with this conversation, and he knew not to sugar coat
his words for the bartender. He kept looking through the knives, and didn’t
look up.
 “Word is, you are wanted by Detective Glub, though I don’t know
why,” Jerry paused here, waiting for a response, but Hero didn’t give him
one. Jerry continued, “There is even a reward for anyone giving information
to your where-abouts.”
That got a response from Hero. He looked up, his blue eyes blazing,
taking in what Jerry had just said and measuring him up, trying to determine
if Jerry would be the kind of person to turn him in or not. Jerry wasn’t, but
Hero didn’t want to take any chances.

*****

Outside Fontane Supply, Smith was looking in the window. What

was Jerry doing here, and how had he got in? This place had been closed
ever since the older daughter had been killed in the wolf attack. There had
to be a reason, and Smith was going to find that reason out. He continued
to look in the window until he finally saw a second head bobbing in the knife
section of the store. The second head was covered in charcoal black hair.
“Hero,” Smith said matter-of-factly.
There was a reward out there for any information leading to Hero’s
capture. Smith wasn’t sure how much the reward was for, but something
was always better than nothing. Smith slowly backed away from the
window, and went looking for a member of the King’s Guard to relay the
information.

*****

“I don’t understand what you need from me,” Jerry was saying.
“Have you heard anything about where the wolves might be?” Hero
asked him.
“No, actually I haven’t heard anything, there haven’t even been any
wolf attacks on the town since the day you left,” then Jerry realized what
Hero had said. “Wait, did you say ‘wolves’ as in more than one wolf?”
“Yeah Jerry, there is a whole pack of the things,” Hero said. “They
are almost the size of horses, except they are wolves. They are very
dangerous, and I think they have either killed Marylou, or they are going to
kill her. They took her captive in our last battle, and I need to find her.”
 “Ok, if there are a lot of them,” Jerry said thoughtfully, “that would
narrow the number of places they could hide without someone noticing
them.”
“The last I saw them, they had Octavo prisoner, and they were
heading up the slope on the West side of Goatsbeard Dam. The three bl. . .
um, a friend, told me they were going to sacrifice him. I’m afraid they might
be doing the same thing with Marylou.”
“Well, if they are planning to sacrifice, I would think they would be
heading to the top of the mountain. There is a bald spot on the very top of
the mountain. I have only been there once, but I remember it because it is
very difficult and steep to get up there. Then, the clearing at the top doesn’t
seem like it should be on top of the mountain.”
“That sounds as good a place as any,” Hero said as he went back to
looking at the knives.
“How many knives are you going to be carrying, Hero?” Jerry asked
him.
“Not a lot,” Hero vaguely replied, “I don’t want them to weigh me
down, and the hatchet works better in up close fighting. But I want to figure
out a way to effectively increase the range and power of my attacks. I know
there is a weapon I could use, but I don’t know what.”
“Do you know how to use a bow?” Jerry asked, gesturing at the
longbows leaning against the back wall of the building.
“I’ve never shot one, no.”
“Ok, so you need a weapon with a long range, but one you hold in
your hand,” Jerry was thinking out loud. “You could always use a staff.
Actually, I think Marylou’s old staff is behind the register counter, near the
front, it would make a good weapon.”
“It isn’t powerful enough, Jerry. I need something that can kill a
wolf, not just hurt it,” and then Hero added for emphasis, “It is a wolf pack,
Jerry. A Big-Bad Wolf pack.”
“Alright, then,” Jerry pondered for a few moments longer. “Ok, stay
with me here, this will take a little bit to explain. Take Marylou’s old staff,
and cut it in half. Then take one of these large butcher knives, and break the
handle off. Then I’ll hold the staff still, and you can hold the blade and
hammer it into place on the end of the staff. It will be just like a pike the
horsemen of the King’s Guard use. Except it will be shorter, and easier for
you to carry and manipulate in a battle.”
“I think we can do that,” Hero was growing excited. “That’s a very
good idea, Jerry. You get the staff, since you know where it’s kept. I will get
a hammer, and a good knife to manipulate on the end of the staff.”
The process was a lot easier said than done. At first it took Hero a
few tries to break the handle off a knife, without breaking the blade of the
knife along with it. Then he figured out if he set the knife on a shelf, set an
anvil on top of the blade of the knife, while the handle extended off the
shelf, he could hit the handle with a hammer. After ruining five knives, he
finally got one that would work. Having the blade, though, was just half the
trouble, lining the knife up, and then hitting it straight enough and hard
enough to knock it into the wood was another challenge. The knives would
twist, or he would hit them crooked, and he ruined a few more knife blades.
Finally, after all was said and done, hero had the weapon made.
Unfortunately, all there was left in the store were two other knives.
Fortunately, though, they were knives that would be good throwing knives.
Hero looked at the remaining stock, and sighed.
“I was really hoping to have at least five knives. But I guess having
the modified pike makes for better use than the knives would anyway.”
“I can go back to the Axeman and get you some knives,” Jerry said.
“That would be wonderful, Jerry, but be quick I need to leave soon.”
Jerry agreed he would be right back, and left out the front door of
the store. Hero didn’t bother to lock it behind Jerry, the townspeople knew
Fontane Supply was closed, and would be until Marylou got back into town.
Further, the closer he got to the window, the more likely someone would
see him.
Hero heard yelling from the front of the building. He crept along the
aisle of hammers, nails and wood saws to get a better look at what was
going on outside the building. Were the wolves coming here to attack? Was
that Jerry’s voice? He should be halfway to the pub by now.
When Hero got to the end of the aisle, he slowly peaked around the
end to see what was going on outside. There were way too many people
gathered in front of the store. But it wasn’t only citizens, it was members of
the King’s Guard. Word had to have gotten out that Hero was here,
someone had to have seen him. And then he saw Smith, standing on the
inner circle of the gathering crowd, grinning as wide a smile as Hero had
ever seen.
“That donkey breathed jerk,” Hero exclaimed.
Jerry was being held, with his hands behind his back, by two
guardsmen. They most likely had him shackled, and were holding him so he
wouldn’t be able to warn Hero about being surrounded. Ten guardsmen
were standing facing the building, their pikes were lowered and pointing at
the store front. They were not going to let him get away.
“Hero!” came the yell of one of the guards, “We demand you come
out peacefully. Leave any weapons behind, and come out hands over your
head.”
Hero didn’t say anything, but he did start to panic.
There had to be a way out of here, and he had to find it fast. He
knew going out the front would end up with him being captured. There was
no way he could fight that many guards and escape, these were trained
soldiers. He didn’t have enough time to hide in the building, or climb into
the rafters. The only other option was out the back door.
If they had men in the front, they had men in the back as well. But
he didn’t know for sure, and it was his only option. If anything, maybe there
were less guards in the back alley than there were in the front of the store.
If there were one or two guards, he could probably escape. He just didn’t
want to have to kill someone in order to escape. Hero didn’t want anyone
to die, especially himself.
Hero crept back along the hammers and nails, so he could angle
toward the back of the store. He passed the gold panning equipment, and
continued on until he reached the back. Hero held his breath and pushed
through the door, entering a back room. The room was small, and Hero was
easily able to find the door leading back into the alley.
Once he had the door unlocked, Hero opened the door a small crack
and looked out. He didn’t see anyone, so he opened the door wider and
risked committing his face to a larger peak. He still didn’t see anyone.
Hero stepped out the back door into an empty alley.
“He’s back here!” Hero heard the shout coming from the opposite
end of the alley. He spun, and at the end of the alley were four guardsmen,
with their pikes lowered and starting to run toward him. Hero didn’t wait
around to see what would happen next.
“You there, stop!” One of the guards shouted.
 “To arms! To arms!” cried another.
“Suspect is in the back alley!” yelled a third.
Not being weighed down by the heavy armor the guardsmen had,
Hero knew he could easily outrun them, as long as he could get out of the
alley before he was surrounded. He turned and ran away from the four
King’s Guard members, putting them at his back. He ran for the daylight at
the end of the alley, he had to get out of it before guards came around from
that side.
Hero broke into the street at a dead run. To his surprise, there was
nobody in this street, either. The street was completely deserted, but Hero
didn’t slow down. He needed to run until he could get out of range of the
guards, and find cover somewhere. He also needed to stay on track with his
plan of revenge on the wolves.
Hero didn’t slow his pace until he was well out of town.
30- Hurry and Wait

Hero left the village running, not waiting to find out if the guards
were still after him. He felt bad about leaving Jerry behind, but he knew
that if he didn’t he would be captured too. Right now, Hero just couldn’t
afford the risk.
If he could kill a wolf, and bring the body back to the town, then at
least he would be able to show the villagers he is innocent. At least that
way, the people would know the wolves really did exist. It was his primary
defense in the criminal investigation and arrest he knew was coming.
First and foremost, though, he had to rescue Marylou. She may still
be alive, and if she is, then he needed to be there for her. He needed to
believe in her like she believed in him, and to support the faith she put into
him, he needed to be there to save her. And if she wasn’t alive, well Hero
didn’t want to think about what would happen if she wasn’t alive, but he
would still have his way with the wolves. The wolves had finally gone too
far, and Hero was going to be the one to punish them for it.
Octavo, on the other hand, was another matter. Hero had the
sinking suspicion once Marylou was captured, the wolves had no other use
for Octavo. He didn’t know why they were transporting him, or going to
sacrifice him, but once they got hungry, Octavo would be an easy meal.
The traveling up the mountain had just begun, and Hero needed to
focus most of his energy on finding a path up the steep incline. The terrain
was not too terrible, but it was steep enough that a fall would be very
dangerous. He had to be careful, but he had to hurry at the same time. The
wolves would not wait for him to arrive before doing whatever they had
planned on doing to Marylou.
Finally, Hero found a well traveled game trail. It wasn’t the highway
of the forest, like he had found in other places, but it was well traveled. It
wasn’t beaten down too badly, but was a path maybe a deer traveled every
single day on its way down to lower elevations in the middle of the night
when the weather got cool.
The trail meandered along between the trees at the lower elevation
Hero was currently at, until it cut sharply into the brush. Not knowing which
other way to go, Hero continued to follow the trail until he came to a barbed
wire fence. The fence was just over belly button high, and had three runs of
barbed wire anchored about every ten feet by a wooden post. Rather than
cross the fence, the trail made a sharp turn, and followed along parallel to
the fence as the fence went up the mountain.
Hero continued to follow the game trail along the fence, never
dropping his guard for fear of an ambush from waiting wolves. The fence
finally ended after going quite a ways up the rise of the mountain. After the
last post, the trail continued on until it ran into another, more heavily
traveled game trail. Hero had seen it many times before, animals using the
same paths up the mountains. A lot of the times these trails were steep, or
barely impassable for a man. But sometimes, and this was one of those
times, the trail followed the path of least resistance up the mountain. Hero
continued to climb as the trail continued to lead him to the top.
The mountain, and the trail on it were both very steep now. So
steep the game trail even made a few cut backs along the steeper inclined
banks. This trail was probably made by an older animal that didn’t have the
stamina to go straight up the side of the bank. For that, Hero was thankful.
After another twenty minutes or so, the steepness of the mountain
started to taper off. The trees became fewer and farther between, and Hero
had the suspicion he was coming up on the crest of the summit. He started
being even more careful, his modified pike constantly at the ready as he
climbed the mountain.
As he neared the summit, Hero still couldn’t see any sign of the
wolves. But he knew this had to be the path they had taken. He
remembered how well the wolves had gone through the forest in the past,
and how difficult it had been for him to even find a sign of them, let alone
track them. So, Hero hunkered down by a boulder, closed his eyes, and let
his other senses guide him.
He still couldn’t see the wolves, but he could hear them.
They weren’t far away from where he was now, and he knew which
direction to take. Hero was happy with himself for taking the time to let his
other senses do some of his work. You couldn’t always rely on your eyes to
tell you the truth, and this time was proof. Had he not taken the time to
listen for the wolves, he may have walked right over the top of them
without realizing what he was doing.
 Even though he could hear the wolves, and knew where they were,
Hero still needed to be careful. His plan was not to run into a battle, his plan
was to sneak up on them. If the wolves set a sentry around their camp, he
would pick that wolf off first. Then if he made just a slight bit of noise,
another wolf would come to see what had happened, and he would pick
that wolf off as well. Then while the remaining wolves went to investigate
what was wrong, he would sneak around the peak and come up the other
side. Attacking the remaining wolves from behind. If he could find Marylou,
the plan would work even better. He could give her the modified pike while
he used his hatchet. The plan was a good one, Hero hoped it worked.
He abandoned the game trail from here on out. The top of the
mountain grew rockier the higher he climbed, and he was starting to suspect
there would not be a grassy clearing on top after all. That didn’t affect what
he was going to do, but it still made him more cautious that this might not
be the exact place Jerry had been telling him about.
Hero watched his feet as much as he watched the bushes around
him. He had climbed high enough now that the bristlecone pines were
making way for pinion pines. There was more dirt and rocks, and less grass.
The footing on the rocks was not stable, and the tinier rocks would roll, but
the dirt made for a very quiet travel. He had to be swift but deliberate in
every footstep. He needed to climb the rest of the mountain in a hurry, but
he needed to remain undetected.
As he came closer to the top, the voices of the wolves got louder.
Hero couldn’t tell if they were arguing, or if they were just talking loudly.
Either way, he couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he was close
enough now to distinguish more than one wolf talking.
Hero looked at his surroundings, and finally found a place he could
sneak up to, hide behind, and be closer to the top of the mountain. He
crawled from his last hiding spot, toward a fallen log. The log was very large
for this place on top of the mountain, Hero suspected it was a very large
aspen at one point long ago. But the log wasn’t the best part of this hiding
spot, the best part was the log rested on a rock ledge. Even though the log
wasn’t big enough to hide him, if he sat crouched, or even sat back straight,
the combination of the log and rock ledge would completely hide his body.
Hero positioned himself in his knew hiding spot, which he knew was
very close to where the wolves had gathered. He had hurried to the top of
the mountain, but now that the wolves were within his grasp, he needed to
wait for the most opportune moment to strike. Without careful planning
right now, all could be lost. Hero could not afford for everything to be lost.
Straining against the sounds of the surrounding mountain top, Hero
tried to hear exactly what it was the wolves were saying. He was looking for
a clue that would help him determine his course of action. He was trying to
determine how many wolves there were in the clearing beyond his log
hiding spot, but was finding that very difficult. If he could count the wolves,
he could then guess on how many of the wolves were out hunting him. He
was able to make out a word here and there, but never able to put a whole
sentence together, until he finally heard a wolf growl, in a very loud and
angry tone.
“Because I am your unquestioned leader!”
31- Sergeant’s Plan

“He’s going to come for her,” Captain said.

“I know, that’s the idea,” Sergeant replied. The other wolves were
hesitantly watching the exchange. The mood in the air was tense, a ticking
time bomb, and the other wolves knew something was bound to happen if
these two kept at it for much longer. “And when he does,” Sergeant
continued, “we will kill him.”
“And if something happens to the girl?” Captain asked.
“So be it.”
“We have orders not to harm her, Sergeant.”
“Sometimes, we have to do what is best for us wolves no matter
what orders we may or may not have,” Sergeant said with a soft growl.
“That is what makes the biggest difference between me and you, Captain.
That is why the wolves follow me, and tire of your poor leadership.”
Captain decided to leave it at that. There was no use arguing any
further, even though he was afraid the raven-haired girl would get hurt. If
she did get hurt, or killed, then the wolves would lose all their sheep. They
moved all the sheep they could in the last week in order to avoid losing
more. Sergeant was very confident the boss did not know where their
sheep were hidden. Captain was not so sure.
He would stay here for a bit longer, even though he didn’t see the
point to staying. The wolves didn’t need his leadership anymore, and he
didn’t agree with the things Sergeant was doing. Captain was starting to see
more and more that the way they were living, and the things they were
doing, were not things wolves should be doing. The problem was he didn’t
know how to convince the other wolves the things they were doing were
bad. He had been a part of it for so long, he had led them in it for so long,
that it had just become a part of the way the wolves were. Unfortunately,
and regretfully, now that he was no longer in command he could easily see
how the actions of the Big-Bad Wolf Pack were not actions wolves should
take.
Captain just sighed to himself and lumbered across the camp to
where they were holding Marylou. He walked up to her slowly, as not to
scare her, but the way she was looking at him, he figured she would be
scared no matter how he approached. She had pure hatred in her eyes, the
kind of hatred that blossomed into a murderous rage. Marylou’s hands
were tied behind her back, and she sat on the ground, knees up, trying to
get the most menacing posture from how she was forced to sit.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Captain told her in the most gentle voice
a wolf could muster.
Marylou didn’t respond, she just glared at him.
“Really, I’m not. But we need to figure out how to keep the other
wolves from hurting Hero. I’m concerned he will try to save you, and then
he will be killed,” Captain wasn’t really sure how to approach this, especially
without the other wolves hearing. “As long as he doesn’t try to save you, no
one will get hurt. The boss says you cannot be hurt. You have to trust me,
Marylou.”
“You think these ropes don’t hurt?” Marylou spat.
“Yeah, I guess those. . .”
“And how am I supposed to trust the beasts that killed my sister?”
Marylou’s rage was full of vehemence. Captain could see there was no way
to get her to help him. He dropped his shoulders in exasperation, turned,
and left the black haired girl.
If she wasn’t going to help him, he would have to figure out a way to
do this on his own. The first thing he was going to do is figure out Sergeant’s
plan. Sergeant wasn’t telling anyone how things would go down, but
Captain had a sneaking suspicion it was going to be a trap. That didn’t sit
well with Captain, he didn’t do traps, they were too much like how a cat
would fight. Wolves were straight-forward and deadly, cats were sneaky. A
wolf acting like a cat was as close to a sin as you could get in Captain’s eyes.
He remembered the ways of the old wolves, always running in packs, only
killing when something needed to be killed, always aggressive and efficient.
Now, it was like they were sneaking behind backs, hiding more than they
were in the open, and not being proud of their heritage.
He would try to do what he could to save the way of the wolves.
There wasn’t going to be a lot of hope in what he was going to try, but he
could at least try. One last ditch effort before the wolves were all the way
down a road he didn’t want them to go down.
“Wolves!” Captain howled.
 All the wolves looked at him with confusion. They knew he was a
wise wolf, and they did like to follow him up to the last couple weeks. But
they also knew if they showed any intent on following his commands, they
would be abashed by Sergeant.
“Wolves!” Captain howled again. “Gather ‘round, wolves.”
Slowly at first, but then with a little more confidence the wolves
gathered around Captain.
“Look,” Captain began, “We are going down a path our ancestors
didn’t want us to go down. We are a proud creature, and the way we are
conducting ourselves now is unforgivable. If we stop now, before it is too
late, we can go back to the way things are supposed to be. The way they
were in the times of our fathers. But if we start setting traps, acting like
humans and cats, we are going to cross a line we can never get back from.”
“You are the one that convinced us to be this way,” Dante said.
“And now that you are not in charge, you want us to stop? I think you just
want to be back in charge.”
“That’s not it at all,” Captain protested. “I have finally been put in a
position to know if we keep acting like cats, eventually we will become cats.”
Snarls just growled. Captain didn’t know how to interpret that, but
figured it meant something along the lines of, “I am not a cat, nor am I
acting like a cat, but I will continue to act how I want.”
“Captain is right, wolves,” Maverick added, “The things we do are
not right. We have never had so much turmoil amongst ourselves. We need
to do things right, we need to do them as a pack. We need to act like wolves
with well thought out actions that will not end up harming ourselves or our
integrity.”
“Oh what is this?” came a voice from behind Captain. It was
Sergeant, and he didn’t sound happy. “You think you can just call a meeting
of the wolves without me, Captain? Apparently I need to put you in your
place.”
“That is exactly what I am talking about,” Captain said, “I’ve had
enough of these threats. I’ve had enough of the way we are treating each
other. Wolves are respected because we respect other creatures, and each
other.”
“We’ve already voted, Captain,” Sergeant cut in. “It was voted you
are no longer strong enough to be our leader. I have the strength that is
needed. Besides, we all saw your failures in the fight against the humans.
You let Baldran get hurt when he was fighting at your side. You let the
humans find our camp and sheep farm. You are the one who hurt the
raven-haired girl in the first place.”
“And what about you puffing Baldran over the side of the dam?”
Captain demanded.
“I think all of us knew he was going to die anyway.”
“And what if he hadn’t?”
“He would have, Captain, this is the kind of thinking that makes you
weak,” Sergeant growled, the hairs on the back of his neck starting to stand.
“I knew if I used him as a weapon, he could possibly kill Hero with his last
action.”
None of the wolves knew how Hero survived the fall off the dam.
But they did know Baldran was found dead at the bottom. Captain wasn’t
sure how, but that Gingerbread Man seemed to know everything. Hero had
been found by the bears, and was now on his way to save Marylou. Captain
couldn’t let these facts escape the other wolves.
“But it didn’t kill him, Sergeant,” Captain said. “You killed one of
ours, and you didn’t even kill who you were trying to kill. Now he comes for
us.”
“This time, I will make sure he is dead,” Sergeant said.
“Take my word, Sergeant, if you don’t pull it together and get all of
these wolves acting like a pack, then we will all die. And Hero might be the
one who is strong enough to do it.”
“Yeah, that’ll be the day.”
“Yes, it will.”
“Enough of this idle chit-chat,” Sergeant said, changing the subject.
“We need to talk about how we are going to set and spring the trap to kill
Hero.”
Some of the wolves howled with delight. Others, especially
Maverick, looked troubled.
The plan was to get to the clearing on the top of the hill just past the
dam. Sergeant had already told the Gingerbread Man they were going to
sacrifice Marylou. He hadn’t given a reason, but he figured it was going to
be believable. Once they had their positions, Snarls and Captain were going
to sneak off and try to ambush Hero while he tried to get close to the
clearing. If that didn’t work, the other wolves would pretend to be arguing
on top of the mountain in the middle of the clearing. If Hero saw there were
fewer wolves than what he was prepared for, he may try a risky rescue of
Marylou. Sergeant talked to the wolves for a couple of hours, telling them
all the details behind the trap they were going to spring.
Captain had to admit, even though this was a cat-like plan, Sergeant
had all his bases covered. The only problem with the scenario that Captain
could see was they did not give Hero an escape route. The bigger dilemma
was this plan was a cat plan. Captain didn’t like this plan, and he was going
to say so. He wanted all the wolves to know this was a cat plan.
“Are there any questions?” Sergeant finally asked.
“Yes,” said Captain, “Why is it you always make us act like cats?”
“Even if you keep antagonizing me, Captain, it is not going to change
anything. All of the other wolves are ok with this plan, you are the only one
who is not.” Maverick didn’t look so sure of the plan either, but Captain
didn’t call him out on it.
“Splitting up like this will not work, Sergeant,” Captain insisted. “Not
only are you giving us a cat plan, you are giving us two cat plans we are
supposed to use at the same time. We are going to spread out and not be a
pack, you are going to put us at our weakest.”
Unexpectedly, Sergeant did not reply, instead he lunged at Captain.
Sergeant’s white fangs flashed, and Captain spun and caught Sergeants jaw
in his own. The quick reaction was enough it just barely saved Captain’s life.
One of the other wolves gasped at the action, Captain suspected it was
Maverick. Sergeant was growling, his mouth locked with Captains, his hot
breath washing over Captains face as he pushed the mighty wolf back with
all his strength. Finally, after a few very tense moments, the wolves jaws
finally unlocked and they backed away from each other.
“Is that how you are going to lead?” Captain accused.
“I do whatever it takes,” Sergeant snapped.
“That’s sheep blood!” Captain cursed at him.
“Whatever you think, it is doesn’t matter.”
“I’m out of here,” Captain growled at him. “You can attack whoever
you want with your cat plans. But I am not going to be a part of it.”
Captain turned his back, and left the pack.
*****

About twelve hours had passed, it was mid-day, and the wolves
were getting ready to follow through with the plan set forth by Sergeant.
Marylou was carefully anchored to a pole in the middle of the clearing. Her
arms were tied behind the pole. They were going to have her blind folded,
but then Sergeant decided if Marylou saw Hero before they did, she might
give away his location.
“You look mighty tasty today, raven-hair,” Sergeant said to her as he
was checking her restraints against the pole.
Marylou responded by spitting in his face.
“You’re going to regret that,” Sergeant growled.
“Not as much as I regret not having the opportunity to kill you,”
Marylou growled back.
Sergeant laughed, and as he walked a few feet away he said, “I may
get a taste of you yet, girl. You might want to hold your tongue, or I’ll make
the experience very painful. . . More painful than it was for your sister.”
Those comments made Marylou thrash at her ropes, trying to kick
the wolf that was now well out of her spitting range. She continued to
thrash until her wrists started hurting from pulling on the ties. How had
they tied those so tightly?
“Argue with me, Maverick,” Sergeant commanded of the wolf
standing next to him.
“What am I supposed to say?” Maverick asked.
“I don’t know, something relevant but not suspicious.”
“Are you going to eat her?” Maverick asked.
“The boss still wants her alive,” Sergeant replied, not realizing
Maverick’s concerns about the girl were genuine, and not imagined just for
the sake of a pretend argument. “But I think he has all the information he
needs. So I will do with her whatever I want.”
“You don’t think he will be mad?”
“Frankly, I don’t care what the boss thinks, if I want to eat someone,
I will eat them,” Sergeant said. Starting now to realize that maybe
Maverick’s questions were genuine.
“What makes you think you can just go and do whatever you want to
do, whenever you want to do it?” Maverick was now getting a little more
daring in his questions.
“I think you need to be quiet now, Maverick,” Sergeant said in a low
growl.
“And why should I?” Maverick insisted.
“Because, I am your unquestioned leader!” Sergeant growled, close
to a roar.
32- The Detective

“Why are you even holding me?” Jerry asked the two members of
the King’s Guard standing in front of the only door in the tiny wooden walled
room in the back of his bar. The room had been his rarely used office, but
now it doubled as a holding cell for Jerry. Held prisoner in his own place of
business. Jerry pulled on the ropes that had his arms tethered to the
wooden chair usually placed behind his desk, “I haven’t done anything
wrong!”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” sneered the first guard. The
second guard nodded in agreement, though he didn’t say anything.
There came a two-rap knock at the door. The first guard made a
step closer to Jerry and lowered his lance, “I wouldn’t advise trying
anything.” The second guard turned and opened the door.
Detective Frank Glub entered the small room with a dark brown
trench coat flowing behind him. He said something to the guard who had
opened the door, and then both of the King’s Guard members stepped
outside. Then Glub turned to Jerry, his blue eyes sparkling, offset by his jet
black hair with a few streaks of gray. The man’s face was not as cleanly
shaven as it usually was, which made Jerry nervous. He had only seen
Detective Glub a few times, but every time he did, the man’s face was very
neatly shaven. Now there was at least a two days growth on his face. Glub
started pacing back and forth in the room, but didn’t say anything, Jerry
filled the silence.
“I haven’t done anything, let me go Glub!”
“Octavo is dead,” the response shocked Jerry. Hero had just been
talking about how he had to save Octavo, well more Marylou than Octavo,
but Octavo’s name had been in there. Something about how the wolves had
him, and there was more than one wolf.
“How?”
“At his house,” Glub replied casually. “I was there just yesterday,
and he had been gone for more than a few days when I showed up.”
“I have been here, at the bar, the whole time,” Jerry stammered, “I
have witnesses.”
 “Oh, I’m not here about that,” Glub chuckled, his eyes shown with
intelligence.
“Then, why. . ?” If he wasn’t here for Jerry, then why was Jerry tied
up?
“I understand you have been harboring a fugitive, Jerry,” Glub said,
attempting to reign in his temper. “Now, what you are going to do, is tell
me where Hero went, and how long ago he left.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me Jerry!” Glub’s temper flared, his fist
slamming down on the desk between them. “I know Hero was here, and I
know you talked to him. I also know that you know where he went. So
what we’re going to do is this, you are going to tell me where he is. Then
I’m going to untie you and leave. If you lie to me, I’ll be back and take you in
Hero’s place.”
“Hero is innocent, Glub,” Jerry insisted. “I know he his.”
“Do you have any evidence?”
“Well, no,” Jerry lamented, “but he seemed sincere. He is going to
save Octavo, not harm him.”
“He lied to you, Jerry. Octavo, and all of his staff, are already dead.
His house is covered in blood, and Hero was there. I want to get this
criminal back in jail where he belongs,” in the deepest and darkest cell of the
palace dungeon, Glub thought.
Jerry wasn’t so sure. Hero was honest. There was just something
about the man Jerry trusted, and he didn’t want to hinder his chances of
saving Marylou. And, if anyone could save the village from the wolves, it
was Hero. So instead of answering, Jerry just sat there, not saying anything
and giving Frank Glub the hardest stare he was able to muster.
“Ok, Jerry, I don’t have time for this,” Glub decided it was time to get
serious. “Being an accomplice to a crime is just as bad as committing that
crime. I have a warrant for Hero for multiple murders. I don’t want to have
to add your name to that warrant, Jerry. Talk to me now, and I still promise,
in the name of the King, I will let you go. However, if you don’t talk to me,
then you are going to be spending a lot of time in the palace dungeon to
think about how easy it would have been to tell me where Hero is.”
“I can sit for a long time, Glub,” Jerry stated, trying to remain calm,
though his heart was racing, he was sure Glub could see the fear coming up
in his eyes.
“Look, Jerry, you’re a good man, but I won’t hesitate if you don’t
cooperate with me. You may be able to sit a long time in a dungeon, but
your family cannot afford for you to sit in a dungeon,” it was a dirty move,
but Glub needed to find Hero, and fast, before he killed again. “Now, I know
your family depends on the income of your bar. So if you don’t help me,
then your family is going to have to survive on no income at all, because not
only am I going to bring you in, but I’m going to have to close your bar for an
investigation. . . and that investigation may last weeks, or months.”
“Okay, Glub,” Jerry said, he knew he was over a barrel. He hated
what he was going to have to do, but he knew he had to do it to support his
family. Maybe, just maybe, Hero would have enough of a head start to get
to the wolves, and save Marylou before the King’s Guard and Frank Glub
caught up to him. Jerry let out a very long sigh.
“Okay?” Frank Glub stood with both hands on the desk, leaning over,
his blue eyes piercing through Jerry. Glub was intent on getting his man.
“I know where Hero is.”
33- No Going Back

“Because, I am your unquestioned leader!” a wolf growled.

Hero sat as motionless as a statue, listening to the wolves argue
about what they were going to do about him, and about Marylou. He hadn’t
gained enough bravery to check over the fallen log he sat behind to see if
Marylou was with them, but from the tone of their conversation, he was
guessing she was. At minimum, if they were arguing about what to do about
her, then she was still alive.
It had taken Hero the better part of two hours to sneak up the
mountain to this point. The fence line he had followed up the mountain,
probably for cattle, had ended abruptly about three quarters of the way up
the slope. Just past that, he found a spot where two game trails flowed
together and cut dirt paths through the fallen leaf’s. He had followed the
heavily beaten game trails, around the mountain at first, and then cut back
and forth up the rise to just before the peak. Every ounce of his being was
focused on trying to stay as quiet as possible and not give himself away.
Then he was very relieved to reach the top and realize he had not given
himself away at all.
He finally had enough courage built up to steal a glance at the
wolves. He slowly and methodically pushed his back away from the rock
outcropping he had been leaning against, and slowly lifted his head to peer
over the top of the fallen log. Keeping as much of his body as possible out of
sight, and just looking over the top of the log with as little of his face as
possible.
There were three wolves at the center of the peak, and they were
pacing around a post into the ground. The post stood in the exact center of
the clearing on the top of the mountain. More importantly, tied to the post,
was the slump body of Marylou.
Hero’s heart pounded with emotion. He had to save her, and she
must be ok. He hadn’t known if she was going to be ok or not, but seeing
the wolves still had her captive, and close to where they were staying threw
a terrible wrench into his plan. Now, not only did he have to attack the
wolves, but he was going to have to try and save her. And with her that
close to the wolves, they could use her as a hostage or as a shield at any
point in time.
From the place he was now, she was about sixty yards from him.
Which made the clearing at least a circle forty yards in diameter. On this
side there were three more bushes large enough to hide behind before he
became completely exposed. It was going to be much more difficult to add
the element of surprise to an attack if there were no place to hide.
The other question still remaining was: where were the other
wolves? He thought he recognized the three, from their past encounters, as
Sergeant, Maverick and Dante. That left Captain, and the wolf that couldn’t
talk. For some reason he was more worried about the wolf that couldn’t
talk than he was worried about Captain. There was some sort of fairness
about the way Captain presented himself. . . and some inner turmoil, if a
wolf could have inner turmoil.
Hero crept along the rock outcropping and toward the end of the
log. Going over the log wasn’t an option, he would be too easily seen, but
going around the log he would be protected by the bush about ten yards
out. Then, after that bush he could dart to the second bush. Both the
second and the third bush were about the same distance out from the
center of the clearing, and only about ten feet apart. Hero crept toward the
first bush staying hunkered down, and trying to make himself as small as
possible while moving as fast as possible.
Behind the first bush with little difficulty, he planned his next move.
He was going to have to watch the wolves from around the edge of his
current bush, and then when there was a moment with all three of them
having their back to him, he was going to have to dart for the second bush.
It was a good thirty feet away from his current location. Thirty feet closer to
where the wolves were still pacing and arguing. There would be a total of at
least three seconds in which he would be completely exposed to the wolves
while still going up the hill. From this point forward, there was no going
back.
Hero made a quick contemplation of which weapons he would need
to have available in his hands. He stroked the blade of his hatchet, spun the
tool once in his hand, and decided to strap it to his back. In his left hand he
held one of his best throwing knives, throwing left handed had never been
his strong suit, but it would work well in a pinch if he needed it for close
combat. In his right hand he held the modified pike he had made. The
wood of Marylou’s old bow staff was smooth in his hand, and first he
wondered how deadly it would be if he just threw the pike at the wolves.
He quickly changed his mind realizing he wouldn’t have one of his larger
weapons.
The larger of his knives had made an evil blade on the end of the cut-
in-half bow staff. What was now the sharp end of the quarter staff
extended into a gnarly and grizzled pike. Hero hefted the weapon once,
feeling the weight in his hand, before watching the clearing for a perfect
chance to dart to the next bush.
He watched for nearly thirty minutes before he finally saw his
opportunity. While pacing and circling the pole Marylou had been tethered
to, all three of the wolves finally had their backs to him, but for only an
instant. Hero ran as stealthily as he could for the next bush.
He was just about to make it out of the exposed area when
everything seemed to happen at once. More importantly, two very specific
things he did not expect happened at the same time. First, he heard one of
the wolves from the top of the mountain yell “NOW!” Second, he was hit
from the front with a force like he had never felt.
Coming from the third bush was the gray flash of a wolf barreling at
him full speed, and then slamming into him with a force making Hero feel
like he had been kicked by a mule. Subconsciously, as he fell backwards to
the hard rock outcropping, Hero jutted out the pike in his right hand.
He heard another wolf yelling, “Hero! NO!” in a deep growl.
In an instant, Hero’s back hit the rocks below him. He felt the weight
of the wolf coming down on him, and the pressure of the pike driving deep
into the wolf’s heart. He managed not to slam his head back against the
rock, but the wooden handle of his hatchet dug between his shoulder
blades. All of this Hero ignored for the muzzle of the offending wolf was
face to face with him.
“What we do is wrong, Hero,” The wolf said in a barely audible
whisper. “I am sorry for any pain me or my kind have caused you. I have
come to realize humans and wolves can coexist, even if not all of either
species can believe it.”
“What are you talking about?” Hero asked, part angry and part
confused.
 “Wolves are proud creatures, Hero. These wolves fight like cats, and
that is against the wolf way. They are too proud to see what they have been
hired to do, is wrong. Teach them, Hero, teach them all. Only you have the
ability to do this. . . please.” The wolf breathed his last breath, and rolled off
Hero, the pike sliding out of the wolf’s heart.
Hero stood and turned, every advantage he had was now being
given away by the confusion of this wolf. Suddenly Hero noticed there was a
creature standing in the bulk of the second bush, had this wolf not pounced
on him, the other wolf surely would have. Was this attacker trying to save
his life? And Hero had killed him. What was going on here?
He looked down at the dead wolf laying at his feet and saw one
snow white paw, and one charcoal black paw. Captain. There was more to
this wolf. He had wanted a better life for his species, but had realized it too
late. Hero felt remorse for the wolf, but didn’t have time to spend on
feeling bad right now.
“Oh what the devil is this about,” came the voice of Sergeant from
the top of the hill. “I told you he would try and ruin things for us, didn’t I?”
He spoke this question to the other wolves. The only response he got was a
wheezing laugh from inside the second bush. . . the wolf that didn’t talk had
been the wolf waiting in ambush for Hero.
“No matter,” Sergeant was saying, “Captain got what he deserved
for deserting us. We still have the advantage. Raven hair is tied up, and it is
four against one. Wolves, circle.”
“He has a new weapon, Sergeant,” this coming from Maverick. “He
was able to kill Captain with one blow, traitorous or not, he was still one of
the strongest wolves. We need to rethink this.”
“We have the numbers right now, Maverick,” Sergeant wailed, “and I
said ATTACK!”
At the scream of attack from the newly appointed wolf leader,
Sergeant puffed. The bush holding the wolf that didn’t speak began to
rustle, and suddenly, the wolf came flying out of the bush and straight at
Hero. Not that the wolf could fly, but the wolf was being carried on the air
of wind being blown out of Sergeant’s mouth.
“Kill him, Snarls!”
Instantly, hero went into a deep trance, he didn’t know what caused
it but all the thoughts from everything happening to him suddenly vanished.
He was in a void only consisting of him, the wolves, and the need to survive
and save Marylou. The clearing was no longer there, the bushes were gone,
the dry crackling grass under his feet disappeared. It was just him and the
wolves. Then everything happened in slow motion.
As Snarls flew through the air coming directly at him, Hero raised his
left hand and threw the knife he was holding at Snarls’ throat. The knife,
coming from his left hand, was not on a direct target, but it flew true at the
wolf. Snarls emitted a muffled howl of pain, probably as much noise as he
could make with a busted voice box, as the knife embedded itself in his eye.
Hero stepped to the side and ducked as the wolf sailed past on the gust of
puffed air. In mid side step, he pulled his second (and last) knife from his
belt.
Before Hero could recover from the side step, he noticed Dante
coming down the mountain at him full force. Hero rolled to the left, and
was about to take a tail whip to the face when he sprung from the ground.
The roll had brought him up in a crouch to which he was able to push both
legs off the ground. In mid-air, Hero brought the quarter staffed pike
around in a full arc, slicing down at the wolf. He missed the body of the
wolf, but the tail of the wolf was fully exposed to take the entire blow of the
sharp end of the pike.
Dante tumbled to a stop, howling with rage and pain at what had
just happened to him. He was still losing blood from the stump of his tail.
But the tail itself was lying on the ground at Hero’s feet. Hero picked the tail
up on the end of the pike, and flung the tail antagonizing the wounded wolf.
Hero sensed the other wolf coming from behind him and hefted the
pike, spun and hurled. His intuition paid off, and his pike caught Snarls
leaping at his back. Snarls now had a knife jutting from his eye, and the
sharp end of the pike was jutting from his throat. All of Snarl’s momentum
was lost and he fell to the ground, blood spewing from his fresh wound.
After another moment, the wolf was dead.
Unfortunately, the force of Snarls falling to the ground was enough
to break the knife off the modified quarter staff. The knife still stuck out of
the wolf’s neck, but it was no longer attached to the staff. Hero grunted,
but picked the quarter staff up off of the ground. He quickly strapped the
staff to his back, and switched it out for the hatchet.
The little bit of time it took him to switch the weapons was just
enough for Dante to recover from his tail being chopped off. Sergeant was
also growing angry at Mavericks desire to stay out of the fighting. While
Maverick was focused on the fight at the edge of the clearing, Sergeant
circled back around behind him and gave a mighty puff. He had already
puffed one wolf into the fight, he had no problem puffing a second. Only
this time, Sergeant decided he was joining the battle as well.
As Dante was snarling at Hero’s front, Maverick was flying through
the air at his back. Hero was only off guard for a slight instant, but it was
almost enough time to take him down. At the exact time Maverick was
about to collide with Hero from behind and high, Dante decided to lunge
low. It was only incidental, but Hero’s jump and twist to avoid Dante (who
would have tail whipped him in the pass, had his tail still been attached),
was just enough to block Mavericks claws with his knife while he soared by
in the air.
The unintentional midair collision with Maverick sent Hero into a
half spin to the ground. He was just barely able to get a knee up under him
before he would have hit face first on the hard rocks. The knee was enough
balance to save his life from Sergeant, who was now sprinting full speed at
Hero’s profile.
Hero tucked his head, and pushed with his back foot which pushed
him into a somersault. The somersault was just enough of an escape, that
Sergeant missed his backside by mere inches. But the massive wolf saw the
miss coming, and was already starting to throw on his breaks, and turn at
the same time, spraying the other two wolves with a spray of sand and
debris. Sergeant righted himself and, with the other two wolves right
behind him, he started to power up the hill back toward Hero.
Hero, however, did not waste any time. After he came out of the
somersault, he began running. Now, he was sprinting up the hill toward
Marylou, he knew if she were released, the tide of fighting would be more in
his favor. Also, if she were released, they could take this fight out of the
clearing where he was at a large disadvantage. Hero didn’t think the lucky
blow he landed on Snarls would be repeated with the remaining three
wolves.
Upon cresting the top of the hill, Hero realized he was going to have
to get behind Marylou in order to cut her free, he wasn’t going to be able to
slash the ties as he ran by. He would have to make a circle around her and
then come back up the rise, but by then the wolves would be on top of him.
Marylou saw Hero coming up the hill and was watching him wide-
eyed. Then, she was surprised when Hero kept running, and ran right by
her, she just knew he was going to try and cut her free. That way she would
be able to help him in the battle. Marylou didn’t see any other extra
weapons besides what Hero had on him. . . at least he still had the quarter
staff.
Maverick and Dante, while not as strong as Sergeant, were much
faster than him. Their leaner bodies, more accustomed to running, were
able to overtake Sergeant while he was running up the hill at Hero. Once
they were within striking range, they both lunged at Hero’s back at the same
time. The problem was, Dante was off balance because of his missing tail.
His lunge did not land exactly where he had aimed for, and he crashed into
Maverick, sending them both rolling down the hill one over the top of the
other.
Hero spun at the commotion falling down the hill on his side. When
he turned, Marylou was yelling, “Hero, lookout!” He saw why she was
yelling, Sergeant had just pushed off the ground with his powerful back legs.
Sergeant, teeth snarling and claws outstretched, was sailing through the air
flying right at Hero.
In one fluid motion, Hero dropped his hatchet, flipped the throwing
knife from his left to his right hand, and threw. Before the knife had even
fully left his hand, he was rolling in a motion to avoid the collision Sergeant
was going to cause. When he came up from his roll, he watched his knife
sail right under the diving body of Sergeant.
Sergeant finished his dive, pulling up as short as he could, having
seen Hero drop his hatchet. The other two wolves had finished their tumble
and, having stood up, the three wolves had Hero surrounded.
“You missed me again, human,” Sergeant snarled.
“So I did,” Hero said, upset he used his last throwing knife, but still
trying not to grin because his knife did hit where he was aiming, he just
wasn’t aiming at Sergeant. The post holding Marylou now had a knife
sticking hard in the back, just above where the ropes were tied to Marylou’s
hands. It took all of Hero’s might to not look at where the knife had landed,
he didn’t want to give away the fact that Marylou was currently cutting her
ties.
 Hero did have to focus at the problem at hand, all he had was a
quarter staff, and he was surrounded by three wolves the size of horses. As
the wolves circled him, Hero turned in place warily, waiting for the first
attack to come. He had been attacked by one or two wolves, but never
three at the exact same time. Marylou had to hurry up and cut those ties.
The wolves didn’t circle him for very long, he had just enough time
to spin the staff once in his hands before the first wolf started charging him.
It was Dante, he was still very upset about having lost his tail, so his attack
wasn’t timed perfectly with Maverick’s. The mistiming was just enough to
let Hero avoid them both. He raised the staff enough to deflect Dante’s
jaws, and spun the staff back in the opposite direction to pop Maverick right
on top of the head.
The quarter staff was a perfect weapon for a defensive position, it
was frequently used against multiple attackers with swords. However, Hero
was not well trained with a quarter staff, not to mention being in a
defensive position was fine for a while, but with wolves, it would not do for
long.
“You have to wait, Dante,” Sergeant was yelling, “together we can
take him down.”
“He took my tail!” Dante howled.
“Now, Sergeant!” yelled Maverick.
Sergeant and Maverick both charged Hero. As soon as they had
reached full speed, Dante also started charging from the opposite direction.
Seeing his only option for leverage, Hero ran at the two wolves charging
him. The wolves were running side by side, their fur touching, and Hero ran
as hard as he could at the space between them.
Just before he reached the spot between them, he saw Sergeant
start to grin. Sergeant thought he knew exactly where this charge was
going. Sergeant didn’t know Hero was going to try something he had seen
Marylou do what seemed so long ago. Right as they were just a few feet
away from each other, Sergeant was so excited he was drooling.
At the last possible instant, Hero jammed the quarter staff into the
ground and propelled himself over the two charging wolves. In his flight
over their backs, Hero did a front flip in the air to increase his momentum.
He hit the ground in a roll right beside his hatchet, he grasped it in his hands
and began his roll up.
 From behind, Hero wasn’t the only one who had sailed over the top
of Maverick and Sergeant, Dante was right behind him. Dante hit the
ground running at Hero full steam, teeth bared, eyes focused, and all his
rage bent on getting revenge for the loss of his tail.
Just as Dante was running full force at Hero, Hero was coming to his
feet. Hatchet in his hand, Hero side-stepped the oncoming charge, letting
the force of his roll carry him forward. Momentum going one way, Hero
planted his foot and let the momentum carry up into his arms, pushing the
hatchet away from his body. He turned his hips with the momentum of the
hatchet swing, and brought the small axe down in one fluid, yet powerful,
motion.
Dante’s body fell to the ground at Hero’s feet, but his head
continued to roll down the mountain. Hero turned away from the gruesome
sight, disgusted at the necessity of what he had done.
Maverick and Sergeant had stopped their charge just in time to turn
and see the decapitation of their fellow wolf. Maverick howled at the top of
his lungs for his loss, Sergeant just cursed under his breath. Hero could see
the muscles ripple underneath Sergeant’s fur as the anger started to
overcome the wolf.
Hero could feel all the tiredness of the last few moments starting to
overcome him. He had been running at full bore, and didn’t know how
much he had left in him, but it had to be enough to finish off the wolves. He
had to keep going.
The wolves were starting to circle again, only this time the two were
standing side by side. As they circled, Hero counter circled. He knew they
were trying to get the high ground on him, but he didn’t’ have any choice
but to take a defensive posture again and let them have the high ground.
But, as they circled, it seemed they were also arguing.
“I told you we needed to wait,” Maverick yelled.
“The best time is still now,” Sergeant growled back.
“We need to leave and recoup, we are wolves, we can overcome.”
“I said we finish him off now!”
“And I say we do this later!”
“I say, Maverick, you are as big a pain as Captain!” With a howl,
Sergeant turned on Maverick. The attack was swift and deadly, and
something Hero had never expected to see happen.
 Sergeant stuck his paw out and knocked the unaware Maverick to
the ground. With his other paw he stomped on the chest of Maverick where
his heart would be. Hero watched in horror as the giant wolf had Maverick
pinned beneath him, and pursed his wolf lips, and puffed the strongest puff
Hero had ever seen. The smaller wolf, Maverick, died almost instantly as he
was blown into pieces as part of his body remained anchored underneath
Sergeant’s front paws.
Hero was doubly amazed at the poor timing by Sergeant. This
seemed like the worst time to have a battle between the two remaining
wolves. Even though it was now down to one on one, Hero was still nervous
because the one wolf remaining was the biggest, meanest and most
unpredictable of the entire pack.
Just behind Sergeant’s muscle ripped shoulders, Hero saw
movement in the clearing. He made a quick glance to the other side of
Sergeant, and saw the pole holding Marylou was now completely bare. She
was sneaking up on Sergeant from behind. They had Sergeant surrounded,
and Hero needed to keep Sergeants attention so Sergeant didn’t realize the
numbers advantage the humans now had.
“So now it is a fair fight?” Hero yelled at the wolf.
“Yes, and you are finally going to die,” Sergeant growled.
“I don’t know about that,” Hero said, twirling his hatchet in his hand.
Hero was hoping he could keep Sergeant’s attention for just a few
short moments longer. Marylou was coming up from behind the wolf and
was now only a few paces behind him. Sergeant’s anger had him so
consumed, Hero was sure the wolf had no idea Marylou was about to
pounce on him from behind. Hero was confused, however, because he
didn’t know what Marylou was going to attack with.
“One on one, then,” Hero said. “That’s a fair fight.”
“One on one?” the wolf asked, his nostrils flaring.
“Yes, one on. . .” too late, Hero saw what was about to happen.
Sergeant had smelled Marylou coming up behind him, that’s why his
nostrils had flared. With one swift motion, the wolf spun opening his mouth
in the direction of Marylou. Hero screamed, Marylou screamed, and the
wolf growled with pleasure. Before Hero had time to process everything,
Marylou was gone.
Sergeant had swallowed Marylou in one large gulp.
“Ok,” Sergeant said, “one on one it is.”
34- A Mourning Blow

Hero’s world crashed down all around him. Everything in his void
that had disappeared all came back to him, coming back into focus in one
terribly paralyzing moment. He didn’t know how much time had passed, it
seemed like forever, but he knew it was only a few seconds. All of his senses
had gone numb, and he couldn’t feel, hear, smell, see or taste. He tried as
hard as he could to regroup himself, but it was very difficult for him to even
begin focusing.
Slowly things started coming back to him, he could hear something
very loud. Hero then realized his mouth was open, and he quickly shut it.
The sound went away. He had been screaming the whole time. As soon as
his mouth was closed, he became extremely nauseous and retched all over
the ground in front of him.
The action of doubling over to vomit gave Sergeant an opportunity
the wolf was more than willing to take. Hero noticed the sound of the
oncoming charge at the last second, and lifted the hatchet. It was not even
a good defensive move, but Sergeant was still leery about the recent
decapitation of his comrade, so he swung clear of the raised hatchet. He still
delivered a quick tail whip to the back of Hero’s head for his effort.
Hero took the tail whip with a grunt, but knew the attack could have
been worse. He had to focus all his energy and emotion into this fight, or
the more powerful and faster wolf would surely take him down. He raised
his body, and assumed a fighting stance. Only holding his hatchet would
have to be good enough, he had thrown all his knives, and the quarter staff
was well out of reach.
“Interesting reaction, losing your lunch while I eat mine,” Sergeant
taunted.
Hero just grunted in response, he couldn’t let the wolf get under his
skin. Sergeant knew every aspect of fighting, and especially that if he
triggered the right emotional response, Hero might make a mistake.
“She tastes so good, her sweet meat like a black-haired fawn. . . you
didn’t like her, did you?”
Hero heard a growl. Now was not the time for a wolf he was
unaware of to come out of the bushes. He would only have a chance of
survival if it were just him against Sergeant, a second wolf would be enough
to turn the tides of the battle. The growl grew louder and as Hero looked
around for another wolf, he realized the growl was coming from him.
The turning of his head, scanning the bushes for another wolf gave
Sergeant an opportunity for another attack. Hero knew the charge would be
coming, and this time he rolled his body to the right, while swinging the
hatchet to the left. Sergeant saw the move, predicted the move, and when
Hero rolled, he changed course. The collision was eminent, and Hero had
already extended the hatchet to the left, leaving himself exposed.
At the last second, Hero saw what was going to happen. The wolf
didn’t lunge, but he kept running at full speed. Sergeant was running too
fast to stop on top of Hero, but he was still going to mow him over. Hero
put his leg up to block the fangs of the wolf. The move was desperate, but
just enough that Sergeant didn’t attack with his fangs as much as he would
have. But he still hit Hero with a head of steam.
The first thing Hero felt was the force of the blow with the wolf. He
was knocked completely on his back, and the wolf continued over the top of
him. Two paws landed squarely on Hero’s body. The first paw pushed into
his hamstring, and the second took him in the chest. Fortunately the
momentum of Sergeant carried him over the top of Hero, so he did not have
to take the entire weight of the wolf for an extended amount of time.
The charge carried Sergeant far enough away that by the time he
could stop, Hero was able to stand. The wolf was laughing as blood trickled
down Hero’s leg and chest. The wounds weren’t deep, but they burned as
the blood slowly leaked away from the man. But he stood nonetheless and
faced the wolf for the next charge.
Sergeant was still laughing.
Hero gritted his teeth, holding the hatchet with both hands.
Sergeant charged at Hero’s right side. Hero braced himself, spinning
the hatchet once in his hand. The hatchet came across Hero’s body, he was
going to swing it like a baseball bat right at the wolf’s skull. Just as Sergeant
was about to be within range of his weapon, Hero made his swing. The
hatchet was going to connect with the split of Sergeant’s open mouth.
Hero felt a blast of air, a strength strong enough to lift him off the
ground. The momentum of the swing and nothing to counter the blow sent
Hero spinning through the air. He landed, disoriented and turned around,
about fifty feet from where he had been standing. Hero needed to find
where the wolf was, but he couldn’t do it. Sergeant had been running the
whole time Hero was in the air.
Instantly the wolf pounced on him from behind one of the bushes on
the edge of the clearing. Hero reacted by trying to roll out of the way, a
move quick enough to save him, as Sergeants muzzle came up with a
mouthful of dirt just to his side. While Sergeant spat the dirt out of his
mouth, Hero tried to get back near the center of the clearing.
There was a large enough gap in action with Sergeant sidetracked,
Hero probably could have gotten away into the forest. But the thought
didn’t even cross his mind. He had to put an end to all the suffering caused
by the wolves, and he had to avenge Marylou. He got to his feet near the
center of the clearing at the post that had been holding Marylou. Sergeant
was still coughing the dirt out of his mouth, and if Hero had any of his
throwing knives, he could have injured the wolf now from a distance.
He reached up for the knife he had thrown and stuck into the pole.
But his hand never grasped anything. Hero looked at the pole, and it was
completely bare, there was no knife. Marylou must have taken it with her
after she was able to cut her ties off using its blade. Hero’s hesitation in
looking for his throwing knife had given Sergeant enough time to recover.
Sergeant was cursing when he finally faced Hero. There was a
meanness in his eyes Hero could see even from this distance, he readied
himself, but was not ready for the path the wolf took. Instead of running at
him this time, the wolf ran to his right. He wasn’t leaving the battle, but he
was continuing around the clearing in a large circle.
The powerful strides the wolf took carried him faster and faster in
circles around the clearing. And then, the wolf started to puff. Hero
watched as the wolf took an incredible amount of air into his lungs, and then
began to blow. At first the air came out in a stream from the wolf toward
Hero, but not directly at him. The wolf continued to run in a large circle
around him, and the dirt began to blow in front of him in circle going the
same way.
Then Sergeant started to make the circle smaller. Every lap now was
getting closer to Hero. Hero stood at the ready not knowing exactly what
the wolf was up to, but knowing at anytime the wolf could turn and run right
at him. And no matter when Hero tried, he would not be able to get away
from the circle Sergeant was making.
The dirt from the wind storm was getting closer to him, and there
was more dirt sailing in the air at every second. The dirt, the speed, and the
wind was all adding up to something. What, Hero didn’t know, but he did
know Sergeant wasn’t doing this on a whim, he had this planned out.
Suddenly, the wind storm coalesced into a funnel. A powerful
tornado ripping across the clearing and crashing into Hero. He tried to
crouch down, but he was not able to stay on the ground for long. Hero felt
his feet being lifted, and he went spinning into the air. He was at the mercy
of the powerful wolf-made winds spinning inside the funnel.
The wind was blowing him at a speed that had taken his breath
away. Hero could barely breathe. He didn’t know which way was up, down,
left or right. He didn’t know where the ground was, where Sergeant was, or
even where he was. This was not good. The wind was still whipping him,
and had him spinning in ever faster circles blowing him across the clearing.
As fast as it started, it was all over. The wind was no longer blowing
hard enough to hold him, and it dropped him very rudely on top of one of
the bushes at the edge of the clearing. The sharp branches from the bush
poked, gouged and cut him across his body. He was bleeding in multiple
places by the time the bush finally deposited him at the bottom.
Hero gasped for breath, he was finally able to take in air. But he was
laying on his back at the bottom of the bush, and the wolf was surely behind
him. Still lying there, he looked up from the way his head was pointing, and
sure enough, the wolf was closing in on him.
Hero spun off his back and to his knees. But, this time he had hit his
head on the ground, the world spun and his field of vision narrowed. He
fought with all his mental might to stay conscious. He still had his weapon,
and he reached deep down within and made himself raise his hatchet up to
a fighting position.
Then panic hit him, he was no longer holding onto his hatchet. The
force of the wolf-made tornado had blown it out of his hand. The wolf saw
the panic in his eyes, and Hero’s empty hands and grinned. But then the
wolf also saw Hero’s hatchet before he did.
Sergeant slowly closed the gap between himself and Hero. But he
stopped before he had made it all the way to the defenseless man, and
stooped his head down to pick up the hatchet. The handle looked awkward
in the wolf’s jaws, but it didn’t stay there long. The powerful jaws of
Sergeant were able to crush the weapon into pieces in one crunch.
“It’s over now, human,” Sergeant snarled at him, pieces of wood
crumbling from his mouth.
“I’m still standing, dog!” Hero retorted.
Sergeant growled deep in his throat. Hero knew how to goad the
wolf as much as the wolf knew how to goad him. But exactly what the
goading would gain him, Hero didn’t know.
Sergeant then did something else Hero had never seen one of the
wolves do, he started to push himself up and stand on his back legs. The
wolf was scary before, but now, standing at least nine feet in the air, the
wolf was downright terrifying. Drool was dripping from Sergeant’s jaw, and
the pupils of his eyes were focusing on Hero.
“C’mon!” Hero yelled, “Let’s do this!”
In a last ditch effort Hero started to run at Sergeant, but before he
had closed the gap by half, something strange happened, and he pulled up
short. Sergeant was still standing there looking menacing, but something in
the wolf’s demeanor had changed. Maybe it was his posture, maybe it was
his breathing, but what Hero finally noticed was a look in the wolf’s eyes. He
saw pain.
Then, there was blood mixed with the drool coming from the giant
wolf’s mouth. It started just as a pink mixture of blood and drool, but before
long it started a stream of dark crimson red. Sergeant howled a painful
scream, and started clawing at his own chest with his huge claws.
Hero saw a glint of metal come out Sergeant’s chest cavity from the
inside. The wolf was still howling with pain, and the metal started slicing
down the length of the wolf’s body. Cutting Sergeant all the way open from
the inside out. The howls became more gurgled, and more painful, as Hero
watched a hand emerge from inside the wolf, attached to the knife gutting
Sergeant from the inside.
Hero dropped to one knee as he watched the carnage.
Hero was blinking tears from his eyes, because he knew what he was
going to see before he saw it. As Sergeant finally fell dead around her,
Marylou stepped out of the inside of the giant wolf’s stomach. The wolf had
swallowed her whole without taking a single bite, forgetting she may have
been holding a weapon. And forgetting it may take a while to digest her,
and what a fighter Marylou was. Marylou had finally had enough time to
find her weapon on the inside of the wolf’s body, and then began to cut her
way out.
Marylou stepped clear of the wolf, and she and Hero ran to each
other.
“You always told me I should be carrying a knife,” She said to him, “I
guess I finally listened.”
Hero was about to embrace her when they heard a loud commotion
coming from the edge of the clearing. There were horses, and men, coming
up the side of the slope. It was the King’s Guard, at least fifty of them, in full
uniform.
The lead man took in the carnage on the top of the hill, but he still
found who he was looking for. The man’s eyes locked on Hero and he
motioned for the guard to begin surrounding the top of the mountain,
making a large circle around Hero and Marylou.
“Hero!” the man called.
“I,” said Hero in response.
“With a warrant by Detective Frank Glub, on order by the King, I
arrest you for the murder of Octavo Cabra!”
35- Detective Glub gets His Man

“Arrested?”
“You can’t arrest him, he just saved me!” Marylou cried.
“Irrelevant,” the red and black clad man responded. “We have been
to Octavo’s house and seen the damage you and your wolves have created.
And though we never found a body, the amount of blood is enough for us to
know Octavo Cabra is dead. Killed by you, Hero.”
“My wolves?” Hero stammered.
“Yes. We also have witnesses saying you traveled from Octavo’s
house just after the carnage took place. We also know of your arrangement
with Octavo and the King, now that Octavo is gone, you can no longer be in
his employment, therefore, on authority of the King, we must take you into
custody. Finally, you are not only being arrested for this crime, but the
original crime that put you in jail. You are currently in violation of your
probation.”
“Octavo is not dead,” Hero said, “We saw him alive after that
attack.”
“A claim to your own observations is not enough to release you from
guilt.”
“There are things in motion here you don’t understand,” Hero said.
“That may be so, Hero, but that does not negate the fact I have to
take you into custody. I have a warrant,” the man held up a red sheet of
paper which Hero assumed had his name on it, and also the signature of
Detective Glub, if not also the signature of the King. “The only question
remaining is whether or not you are going to come along peacefully?”
“You will not take him!” Marylou yelled.
“This does not concern you Marylou Fontane, I suggest you do not
get involved,” and then he asked Hero, “Again, are you coming along
peacefully, or are you going to make this challenging?” This time the man,
who Hero assumed must be the Captain of the Guard, motioned with his
first two fingers. It was a “come hither” movement of his fingers, and with
that simple movement the fifty men who had them surrounded all lowered
the pikes they were carrying, and pointed them at Hero and Marylou.
 “You will not take him!” Marylou screamed this time.
“Marylou!” Hero yelled over the top of her, “I need you right now.
But what I need you to do is be strong for me. We will work on my defense,
and we will prove I did not kill Octavo. You know I didn’t, and I know I
didn’t. And for right now, that is enough.”
“But they are associating you with the wolves,” Marylou pleaded,
tears streaming down her face. “The death of the wolves, and the proof of
the wolves’ existence was supposed to be enough to liberate you of the first
charges, not incriminate you on everything.”
“We need to prove what happened today, we will draw our own
witnesses.”
“The only witnesses are either dead or the fairytale creatures. The
fairytale creatures will not come into town, let alone go to the palace to
testify on your behalf,” she was almost in sobs now. “Besides, who is going
to believe talking animals?”
“There are others I can bring in, others I have met along the way, we
will make this work, Marylou,” Hero said it with more confidence than he
actually had. The thing was, sometimes you needed to stand and fight, and
other times you needed to live to fight another day. Right now was one of
those times for the latter. Both Hero and Marylou were not only filthy from
the battle with the wolves, but they were completely exhausted.
“And what of the original charges, Hero? They were already going to
hang you,” Marylou asked.
“We will work something out, Marylou,” Hero tried to keep the
pleading out of his voice. “Right now, I need you to be strong.”
“This is your last chance, Hero,” the Captain of the Guard spoke with
authority. Another motion of his first two fingers, and every man on
horseback took two steps forward.
“I am coming peacefully!” Hero yelled, loud enough for everyone in
the clearing to hear him.
“The fairytale creatures, Hero,” Marylou stammered. “It’s what the
wolves were after, the fairytale creatures.”
Not being able to say any more, Marylou sank to her knees in the spot
she stood holding Hero’s outstretched hand as long as she could. He let her
hold his hand until two of the guards dismounted and put metal shackles on
his wrists, pulling his hands behind his back. The guard was on horseback,
but Hero knew, being a prisoner meant they were going to make him walk
all the way to the palace dungeon. His suspicions were confirmed when
they did not shackle his feet. . . this was going to be a long walk.
The procession started lining up to vacate the clearing on the hill.
Hero was in the center of the mounted men, who rode two by two off the
hill. He was tethered to the horses in front of him by a cord around his
neck. He was tethered to the horses behind him by a cord tied to the
shackles around his wrists. Marylou remained on her knees in the center of
the clearing until after the last horse was gone.
36- Back in jail

Hero sat patiently in the dark dampness of his dungeon jail cell. It
was the same cell he had been in what seemed ages ago, he hadn’t missed it
any. This stint in jail, though, was not as bad as his last stint, because at
least now he had Marylou to keep him company.
He watched as a fly casually landed on his forearm.
Marylou had been visiting him at least every other day, and was
helping on his defense for his hearing. The defense was coming very slowly,
but at least the company was nice. The biggest problem with Hero’s
defense was there would not be any witnesses besides himself and
Marylou. There was going to be no way to get the fairytale creatures to help
him, they had gone their entire lives living in fear of the humans, and for
good reason. And Hero would not go out of his way to prove the creatures
existed because if he did then he would more than likely bring death to all of
them.
The fly made another circle around his head, and landed back down
on his forearm. Hero half expected the fly to start talking to him. He
watched the creature wipe its legs while standing on him, and then the fly
stared at him. Hero waited for the fly to say something, but it never did.
One of his other witnesses, that could attest to the existence of the
fairytale creatures, and had good standing in the kingdom, was Humpty
Dumpty. Unfortunately, though, Humpty had another fall off the wall. This
time, even with all of the Kings horses and all of the Kings men. . . they were
unable to put Humpty back together again. Marylou told Hero that
Humpty’s brain was completely scrambled, and there was no way he was
going to be able to testify at his trial.
Hero hadn’t yet figured out how Marylou knew about all the
fairytale creatures, but she did. It was almost as if she had met them all
before, but she would not admit whether or not she had. What worried
Hero the most was all the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the
Fontane’s. Marylou was the last surviving Fontane, and that made him
worry someone was after her. He still was not over the fact that up until the
last moment with Sergeant, the wolves were unwilling to hurt her.
 Paranoia mixed with Hero’s suspicions of everyone, made it very
difficult for him to concentrate on his own wellbeing and his inability to
prove himself innocent. At first he thought just knowing he was innocent of
the crimes would be enough. Time was starting to prove different, though,
and he was still behind bars and could not figure out a way to get out from
behind them.
The only person who believed him before was Octavo, but now
Octavo was dead. Although Hero didn’t kill him, he still felt guilty about the
circumstances. If he had done his job a little bit better then maybe the
wolves wouldn’t have gone after Octavo. Which was confusing to Hero
because the wolves had never gone after him before. So it must have been
something he had done, but he just couldn’t figure out what. The only thing
that ever made any sense was his alliance with Marylou. The wolves
unwillingness to harm Marylou, though, shouldn’t have affected the
outcome of the wolves going after Octavo.
There had to be more. What there was, though, Hero couldn’t figure
out. The only way it would make sense for the wolves to go after Octavo
based off an order from their boss to not harm Marylou would be if Octavo
was their boss. Then there would be a considerable amount of animosity
built up in the wolves because they were supposed to harm Hero and
protect Marylou.
The turning of Captain at the very end of his life proved there was
strife among the wolves. But could it have been because of the charge of a
human, and could that human have been Octavo? The boss of the wolves
would certainly have to be a cunning individual, a trait Octavo definitely
had. But if Octavo was the boss of the wolves, then why hire Hero?
Hero thought on that for a while.
He knew his mind was going down a road he didn’t want to travel,
and he probably didn’t have the proof to condone Octavo for any of these
things. But his mind kept working, and the complication of the thoughts he
was having to put together was enough to keep his mind occupied and keep
time going by smoothly.
The wolves knew about the candy witch. That was something that
probably would have been told to them by a human. That didn’t mean the
human was Octavo, but it could have been. Octavo was the only human
Hero knew that even believed in the Candy Witch.
 At the dam, when Hero and Marylou went to save Octavo, he was
not tied up. Why would the wolves not tie him up if they had no problem
tying up Marylou? There had to be some sort of arrangement there, or their
confidence was higher.
What would Octavo have to gain from this charade, though? Hero
thought on this for a while as well. It all came down to the stories Octavo
had told Hero. What if the conditions around the stories were different, but
the stories were the same? Hero tried to imagine how the stories could
have been slightly different, little nuggets Octavo could have left out. But he
still had to tell Hero the truth in order to hire him on. And the stories had to
be the truth because the basis of the stories would be public knowledge
among all the villagers.
What if Octavo had hired the wolves to kill his family? Plausible.
Octavo was one of many children, and his parents had a very large trust that
Octavo would have been last in line for with all his other siblings. With his
entire family killed, the Cabra trust would have come to Octavo. Hero had
seen people kill for less, but an entire family?
Ok, then, what next?
The village. When the first three settlers came to the village, the
wolf killed them. But why? For an answer to this, Hero turned to Marylou.
When he had first visited Fontane Supply, he had noticed, and even
mentioned to Marylou’s sister, the gold panning supplies. So it could also be
plausible that Octavo had originally settled here, by the river, in order to
mine the gold. Once other settlers came into town, he had to get rid of
them or the word of his gold finding would get out. So, again, Octavo would
have turned to the wolves. Only to be thwarted by the settler in the brick
house.
But why hire Hero? There was no reasoning behind that. Octavo
had all the power in the small town of Broken Straw, he didn’t need to hire
someone to take care of the wolves, he just needed to keep the wolves
scaring the village.
No, that’s exactly why he needed to hire Hero. Octavo had grown to
a position where the villagers expected him to take care of them. So he
hired Hero to protect the villagers from the wolves. Not because he wanted
Hero to succeed, but because he expected Hero to fail. He knew the
circumstances behind the Candy Witch, Hero had told them himself. Octavo
knew Hero killed the witch by accident. So if he hired Hero, the villagers
would feel protected by Octavo, when in actuality they were not any safer at
all.
So far, Hero had built a pretty strong case against Octavo in his
mind. But there had to be more. If all of this were true, then Octavo had
covered his own tracks very well. What else was there to implement the
goat man?
If the motive behind the guilt were gold, then what knowledge did
Marylou have that Octavo wanted? She had said to hero just before Hero
were taken away, “they are after the fairytale creatures.” So there must be
something about the fairytale creatures Octavo would want. The only thing
he could think was he needed to know where they lived for some reason.
That probably had to do with the death of the rest of Marylou’s
family. Hero remembered what seemed so long ago, thinking that the
woman who turned out to be Marylou’s sister, had been tortured by the
wolves. And there is no better reason to torture someone than to try and
get information out of them. Whatever the information was, Octavo had
gotten that information, and now he was trying to get Marylou to fill in the
pieces of the puzzle. The pieces had to have something to do with the
fairytale creatures in the forrest.
But why would the wolves be after the fairytale creatures after
Octavo were dead? Why would they tie Marylou to a post and try to get the
information out of her. They never tied up Octavo, so what was the point of
tying up Marylou?
Hero gasped as the revelation hit him.
The wolves never tied up Octavo because they weren’t able to.
Wolves cannot tie things because they do not have opposable thumbs.
Humans have opposable thumbs. That meant Octavo was the only human
with them, and that was why he was never tied up. The wolves couldn’t tie
him up, he certainly couldn’t tie up himself, and there were no other
humans.
So if Marylou were tied up on top of the hill, it would have had to
have been done by a human. And if there were no other humans traveling
with the wolves, then Octavo would have had to been the one to tie up
Marylou. And that’s why the wolves were trying to get the information
about the fairytale creatures out of Marylou.
 “Oh, no!” Hero said out loud as he realized something else. If
Octavo were still alive when the wolves were interrogating Marylou, then
that meant he was still alive now. And if Octavo were still alive now, and the
wolves never got the information out of Marylou they were trying to get out
of her. . .
“Sheep’s blood!” Hero cursed.
“Guard!” Hero yelled. “Guard, I have to get out right now!”
“Sit back and shut up!” The guard yelled back at him.
“I have to get a message to Marylou,” he pleaded.
“It won’t work, murderer, you will just have to wait until she visits.”
Hero started pacing in the cell. If Octavo were still alive, and
Marylou had never given up the information Octavo was looking for, then
Marylou was in danger. Octavo had already killed the rest of her family, and
now there was no one to protect Marylou.
Marylou was in danger, and Hero was going to be unable to help her.
37- Hello, Marylou

No matter how hard she tried, Marylou could not get the floor of her
house quite clean enough. She didn’t know if it was because of the dirt, or
because every time she stopped scrubbing the floor, all she could think
about was her sister. She had cried for a full day after she got home before
she even attempted to do anything else. Now, tired of crying, she was
unleashing her fury on the floor.
She didn’t know which wolf had killed her sister. She didn’t even
know which wolf had killed her family in the past. What Marylou did know,
however, was every single one of those vile creatures was dead. She knew
there were good fairytale creatures, as well as the bad, but now there were
no wolves. And that thought made her happy.
She hadn’t yet decided what to do about Hero. He was a very
annoying, frustrating, rude, infuriating, determined, handsome, pleasant,
well mannered, hunk of a man. But if she told him exactly what she thought
about him, the brute would probably take it the wrong way. Then, either his
head would be so swollen she wouldn’t be able to get him out of the jail cell,
or he would be so sulky he wouldn’t want to leave.
Either way, Marylou decided she would pay him another visit, when
she heard a knock on the door. It was probably more townspeople coming
to offer their condolences. Or it was that frustrating Detective, who kept
insisting on going over her story again.
Marylou stood up, and walked to the door. And then, regretfully,
without asking who was at the door, she swung it wide open. For a
moment, it was hard to determine which was opened wider, Marylou’s
door, or Marylou’s mouth. She couldn’t believe who was standing on the
other side.
“You, you, you. . .” Marylou stuttered, “You’re supposed to be
dead!”
“Hello, Marylou,” said a very confident Octavo Cabra. He pushed his
way past her, entering her house without waiting for a response, “It’s so
nice to see you.”
“But the wolves ate you!” Marylou insisted.
 “Obviously that didn’t happen,” Octavo chuckled. “Now, if you
wouldn’t mind shutting the door. . . There are a few things we need to
discuss.”
A million thoughts went through Marylou’s head all at the same
time. First, Hero would not believe Octavo was still alive. Second, maybe
Octavo had been the mastermind behind all of this the whole time. Third, if
Octavo was the master mind, then the fairytale creatures were not safe.
Thousands of other fragments and partial thoughts flew threw her brain,
until it landed on the last thought: If Octavo was the bad guy, then she was
in danger.
Marylou looked up and instantly saw the vehemence in Octavo’s
eyes, and the knife he held in his hand. Unfortunately, by the time she had
this last revelation, it was too late.
“I said: shut the door, Marylou.”
38- What Big Teeth You Have

Despair had begun settling over Hero. He hadn’t been counting how
many days he had been in jail, but he did know it had been at least a week
since he had seen Marylou. He was terrified something had happened to
her, and he had no idea what Octavo was capable of. But he knew Octavo
was capable of a lot.
To think, this whole time, the real bad guy was right under his nose.
The entire time, Octavo had been the orchestrator of the entire pack of
wolves. For weeks, Octavo had given him all the evidence and all the clues,
and Hero just was not able to put any of it together. Hindsight is twenty-
twenty, but Hero was kicking himself repeatedly for not seeing any of the
signs.
Some hero Hero had turned out to be.
Now all he had to look forward to was a lonely dungeon room with
just the occasional interference of a meal delivered by a rude guard. The
two guards stationed just outside his cell were never very talkative. Hero
had tried countless times to get the guards talking with him, but they never
said more than telling him he needed to quiet down. All he had to do was
sit, and think.
He had tried to build weapons out of anything he could get his hands
on in the dampness of this lower room. But, anything available was not
strong enough to be a weapon. And even if he could build a weapon, he
didn’t know what he would do with it. Anything and everything was all for
not.
He would be able to put together a pretty good case against Octavo.
Without Marylou, though, he wouldn’t be able to get any concrete evidence
against the man. All the evidence Hero currently had was speculation and
here-say. That would never be enough to hold up in a court headed by the
King, especially with Frank Glub leading the prosecution.
The more Hero sat and thought about all the signs he missed, the
more Hero realized how big of an idiot he had been. He tried to console
himself by telling himself Octavo had been doing this for years. But why had
he been doing it? That was the real question. Hero knew how long and he
knew how, but for why and what purpose? There had to be some sort of
value to what he was after, and why did he want to know about the location
of the fairytale creatures?
Marylou’s sister, Maggie, had mentioned that at one time Broken
Straw had been a mining town. Was Octavo after the gold? If there was
enough gold to build up a small town from one original settler, then maybe
there was enough gold to make Octavo a very wealthy man. But he already
was very wealthy, wasn’t he? Someone as conceited as Octavo, with
enough swagger to convince the wolves to work for him, would want more
than to just be rich. With money came power, and with enough power
maybe he could get some sort of position with the state. If he couldn’t get it
through blood, Octavo was born to a logger and a goat, not nobility; maybe
he could buy his way in. That was enough motive to go through all the
lengths he had been, just to get him enough money to get more power. He
had a large estate, he had a town at his back, he had history in the
community, but he did not have any noble blood. Octavo himself had told
Hero he was born with not even a slight amount of a strong family name.
With enough gold, the lacking of noble blood could be overlooked by the
court.
The King was getting older, and the Princess was still very young.
That had to be Octavo’s ultimate goal, to marry the princess and then
become the king himself. Why else do all this? But what would he need?
Hero thought on this for a long while, at least in the dark by himself, it
seemed like a long while. Finally, from what he remembered of the affairs
of the royals, Octavo would need to be a duke. And that was something the
King could grant him.
How long had Octavo been at this?
Then Hero stopped.
How long had Octavo been at this? From the beginning? From the
time he had his parents killed by the wolves? Had Octavo told him how long
ago the Cabra’s were killed? Hero tried to think. Octavo had told him he
was twelve years old. But Hero didn’t know how old Octavo was now, but
he had to be closing in on middle age. No matter what, the time frame
didn’t work out right. Hero couldn’t place a finger on it, but something just
wasn’t right about the wolves, and Octavo, and the amount of time that
passed.
 Hero gasped.
The wolves were not old enough.
Sergeant may have been old enough to have been there when
Octavo’s family was first slaughtered. But, Hero had a suspicion Sergeant
would have only been a pup. Captain was not near old enough to have been
involved with that slaughter. And if these wolves weren’t old enough, that
meant there was only two possible scenarios: 1-Octavo lied, or 2-there are
more wolves.
Hero tried his hardest to make the first scenario be the true
scenario, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it. Octavo had lied about a
lot of things, but for some reason the story fit into everything else Hero
knew, and there were others on his journey willing to tell the story of
Octavo’s past. So if it wasn’t a lie, then there were more wolves. Or, better
yet, Sergeant and Captain’s pack of wolves had been a different generation
of wolves.
“Bloody sheep’s blood,” Hero cursed.
If this was a different generation of wolves, then at most, Hero had
only killed about half of the wolves. There would have to be female wolves.
That was the only way a population of wolves could survive through multiple
generations. There had to be females, and there had to be children, and
that meant there were more wolves. More wolves Octavo probably knew
about, and had known about the whole time. There would be female
wolves, and there would be younger wolves, and that is where all those
sheep the Big-Bad Wolf Pack had would be right now. Follow the sheep, and
find the wolves. But if all those wolves were still out there, then the town of
Broken Straw and the entire kingdom itself would still be in danger.
The country as Hero knew it was in danger to Octavo and his other
band of wolves. Hero was the only one that knew. Hero was the only one
that could save everyone. But here he sat, in this cell, at the very bottom of
the palace dungeon.
“Guards!” Hero yelled.
“What?” came the grunt of a reply.
“The kingdom is in danger! You have to let me out of here!”
One of the guards laughed to the other one, “Apparently his
girlfriend being in danger didn’t work, so now he is going to try and tell us
everyone is in danger.”
 “Quiet down,” the other guard yelled at him.
“You don’t understand, I’m the only one that can help!”
“I said, quiet down,” Hero suspected the guard was going to say
more to him, but Hero heard a loud crash coming from far away. The noise
was still in the dungeon, but it was a long way from where Hero’s cell was
located.
“What was that?” Guard Two asked Guard One.
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Guard One answered.
Hero heard an undisputable growl coming from in the hallway
outside. Before he even heard the guards scream in terror, he knew what
was happening, the wolves were coming for him. He was the only one with
any evidence against Octavo, and now they were going to kill him. Now, he
was safer in his cell than he would have been on the outside. Hero tried to
keep his breath steady, and tried to listen intently to what was going on
outside his cell.
“What the. . .” Guard One stammered.
“WOLF!” screamed Guard Two over the top of him.
The growl got louder, and then there was barking mixed in with the
growl. Hero could only distinguish the growl and barks of one animal. If
there was only one, maybe he had a chance at surviving, maybe the guards
would protect the cell. Though he soon found out the guard’s protection
was only focused on themselves, they didn’t care about Hero.
The guards were running for the stairs around the wolf, and the wolf
apparently let them pass. Now all Hero had to protect him from the beast
was the door of his cell. The door was solid and large, but Hero didn’t know
if it would be strong enough to hold off the wolf.
He heard claws clicking on the stones outside in the hallway. He
heard the wolf sniffing at the bottom of his door. Then he heard the clicking
claws back away from the door. Hero started to take a deep breath,
relieved the wolf was leaving, but then he realized what the wolf was doing.
The clicking of the claws came from far away, and then faster and faster as
they grew closer at a tremendous amount of speed.
With a thunderous crash, the door to Hero’s cell slammed to the
ground. The giant wolf knocked the door down with only one hit. At first
Hero couldn’t take his eyes of the door lying on the floor of his cell, but then
he saw what was standing on top of the door.
 Completely silver it stood, a gray so bright Hero wondered if the coat
had been shined. The wolf stood tall, proud, and powerful, all four legs on
top of the door that lay on the floor of his cell. The powerful legs led up to
the strong body, the perfectly groomed tail, and the deadly jaws of this
ferocious looking she-wolf.
Hero tried to look for something to say. Then he tried to look for a
weapon. And then he tried to think of how he was going to get out of this
mess without any weapons, and without any leverage. This was going to be
it. This was going to be his last day, he was going to be eaten by a wolf. As
he searched for something to say, she said something to him first.
“You’re Hero,” it was a statement, not a question, in her feminine
wolf voice.
Hero couldn’t open his mouth to answer, but he didn’t have to
answer. She already knew he was Hero, and Hero already knew she had
come here for him. There was going to be no getting out of this. She
stepped off the door and started walking towards him as he backed into the
corner of his tiny jail cell.
“I’m Luna,” the wolf said, “You killed my husband, Hero. You killed
my Captain. How am I supposed to tell the pups their father is dead?!”
“Ma. . . my. . . mmmm. . .” Hero stammered as she kept closing in on
him. She was so close now he could smell her breath as her mouth stayed
part the way open.
“Captain always said,” Luna told him, “to finish what you start. Well,
he can’t finish it because of you. So here I am to finish it for him.”
Hero tried to come up with something to say. Something, anything,
that would stop the inevitable from coming. But, as hard as he tried to think
of something clever, something smart, or something convincing. . . the only
thing that came out of his nervous mouth was:
“My, Luna, what big teeth you have.”
127