Chapter 12
The moon pulsed with light in the night sky. Hantle burped and his legs felt too small for his body. Suddenly, his hands drug on the ground as he walked forward. But only for a moment, because he rocketed up on legs that dwarfed the trees in the surrounding forest. He saw for miles ahead of him, thanks to the moon’s pulsations. He strode on – now a giant. His legs created tornadoes as he swung them forward for his next step. Ahead was the wolf and even though it also rose out of the forest to Hantle it looked like a pewter figurine.
In just a few more steps, Hantle towered over the wolf. It had destroyed a small settlement and the rising smoke diffused before reaching Hantle’s ankles. His new perspective was surprising and Hantle laughed. The booming echoed off the Knuckles in the distance and the forest canopy swayed with force of the sound.
The wolf looked up from his meal and Hantle locked eyes with it. The tides had turned and Hantle capitalized on the moment. He raised his foot from the crater his shoe left on the ground. And brought it down, swiftly, before the wolf could react. A little pop - like pine needle in a blaze - was the last sound the wolf made. Hantle-giant bent over and picked up the decapitated carcass between thumb and index finger. So much trouble caused by this beast. A sound behind him. His wife’s call carrying on the air. She was still in Founsel.
Hantle came back to the world as his foot caught on a root. He regained his balance and shook off the vision of squashing the wolf. Conquering the wolf would have to be done at his current size. The distance he had yet to cross would take more than a few steps. Birds chirped in the early morning and the air was still cool. How far off was Harsenth anyway?
The sun sat overhead and the air filled with the heat it brought. Hantle’s back ached and a sharp pain in his hip forced him to change the way he carried his weight. He finished the last of his food as he came upon a home. Everything but the chimney was destroyed. Smoke still rose from it and he saw the fire still burning. Toppled trees lead deeper into the forest.
So the wolf had beaten him here. Hantle knew there was no one left to find, but he looked anyways. Inside, he held the small hope that someone else would have the same luck he did. But no remains turned up in the wreckage he overturned. He was just a lucky bastard. No others would get his odds.
The dirt road continued flat for some time and a scene played before Hantle. The wolf chased a man along the way. And when the man looked over his shoulder, Hantle saw his own face. The figures evaporated. He found that funny, since he was the one chasing after the wolf.
The sun began its descent toward the west and Hantle felt a stabbing in his side that he could not address. He had passed no villages to procure food and he had no time to hunt. Setting the grumbling aside, he appreciated the fact that his eye’s swelling had reduced.
The ring felt cool to his touch as he withdrew it from his breast pocket. Sooted and mangled, but tactile. A testament to the family behind him. Totemic and sole reason he pressed onward; through pain and hunger and need for rest. He chased after the desire to right things. Whatever that meant now, with his family gone. But he would not focus on the guilt, because that would bring further failure. What he would focus on stopping the wolf, and preventing it from desecrating other families. Protecting them might make up for not protecting his own.
Further along, a small grouping of homes stood away from the road. All leveled but for a single, darkened lantern which stood yet.
Hantle’s exhaustion had settled in but not overwhelmed him. A cursory look and a few shouts were all he gave. He had no hope any survived, and it detracted from progress toward his real goal: Harsenth.
Another vision appeared before him. Nighttime fallen and the wolf howling outside these homes which were still inhabited. Lorenca and their boys ran from a home and made for the forest. Hantle felt an urge to move forward, but fear of the wolf prevented him from taking a step. The beast enjoyed the chase and playing with his small, pitiful toys.
The urge to vomit brought Hantle back to the present. He was afraid, yes. But that would not prevent him from going onward.
If only he knew precisely where Harsenth lay, he would know how far or close he was. But as it stood, the sun sank beneath the horizon and he was an undetermined distance away.
The day was spent, but he still had part of the night to beat the wolf there. Mindful of how his pace had slowed toward the evening thanks to weary legs, he resolved to speed up. His limitations were spread over every step that lay before him. The wolf did not seem to have any limitations, though. What set them apart?
The final bits of sunlight left the sky and one tree root did succeed in bringing Hantle down. Pain shot up his injured arm - another limitation. His musket served to help him up and he then slung it back over his shoulder. He put his mind to thoughts of what to do in Harsenth, so as to ignore the limitations that threatened to halt him.
From an eagle’s view, Hantle saw the wolf also arriving to the city late. He began his attack and the people crumpled under him only for sunlight to blast over the Knuckles and push the wolf, clawing in protest, back into the forest.