Chapter 4
When the night grew deeper, the wolf stalked back from his day hide, and sat just outside the meadow in which the children earlier played. There he sat for many hours, biding his time. As the moon rose into the sky, moonlight fell on the wolf. He growled in disapproval and moved to moonshade. Even that dim light was too bright.
A teenaged boy came from his house and crossed his backyard. Holding a lantern before him, the boy made his way toward the outhouse. He stepped inside and drew the door closed after him only to find it did not shut completely. With a sigh, he turned around and tried to open and shut it again. It was still ajar. The teen gasped as he noticed a wolf’s snout between the jamb and the door. The lantern slipped from his hands and crashed to the seat as the boy recoiled into the back panel of the outhouse. Its kerosene base shattered and the wick toppled over into the fuel. Seizing the opportunity, the wolf pushed further into the outhouse and pinned the boy there. A wail of pain carried through the air as flames spread to the boy’s robe and fire seared his skin. Down the wolf’s jaws clamped, collapsing the boy’s throat and eating the cry.
Inside the house, the teen’s younger sister awoke to sounds of the skirmish outside. She peeked over the windowsill into the night and saw two shapes wrestling. Moonlight caught on the wolf’s grey-and-black striped pelt, while the fire on her brother’s robe illuminated his face and dark hair. She shouted for her parents.
Panic and adrenaline flooded through the boy’s mind as he flailed at both the burning robe and wolf. The creature’s teeth had a secure grip which grew stronger as the wolf jerked to bring the boy to the ground. Air only came to him in ragged gasps. He brought fists down on the wolf’s neck and head, but that beating went unnoticed. Next, he tried prying the wolf’s jaws open. His hands only came away slick with blood as he lost his grip to blinding pain.
The girl’s mother and father burst through her door and joined her at the window. A second later, the father sprinted from the room and into the kitchen. He grabbed his musket from above the door, and took a pistol that hung just below it. Once the door’s lock was undone, he threw the door open and it slammed into the house. He hoped to startle the wolf, but the beast had moved further off, toward the woods. He saw his son, robe still alight, being drug off into the underbrush.
“The wolf has my boy! Here, hunters, to me! Help me save my boy!”
The skirmish and yells woke several neighbors and other doors soon rattled open to the cool, night air. Hantle, one of the nearest neighbors, eyed the outhouse, now completely engulfed in flames. The flickering light illuminated blood and gouges in the yard where the boy had clawed against his captor.
Rounfil joined Hantle next to the blaze. They strode past it, following the noise in the woods. An anxious heart pulsed in Hantle’s chest. It was impossible to bring his boys back, but killing the beast could ease the night terror that gripped his wife and give him some control over his life again. The moon appeared from behind a cloud and gave more light to those in pursuit who stomped over wood, gravel, and branches.
The father ceased his calls as he waded further into the forest, alone. The flames stopped their retreat and flickered ahead of him. As he neared, he slowed his approach and raised his musket to eye level. He came upon part of his son’s robe sleeve. The fabric had burned down and worked at lighting the dry branch from which it hung.
The crushed undergrowth spread out to signal where the wolf had dragged the boy. The father couldn’t see or hear anything further along, but he stiffened his grip on the musket and forged ahead through the broken brush. A few steps later, a loud scraping noise came from his right. He pivoted and fired into the dense growth. In the muzzle flash, to the side of his shot, he saw a glimpse of bloody teeth. The wolf, now heavier than the day before, hit him in the chest. The two collapsed to the ground and the father let up a yell that was drowned by crushing teeth. Blood-matted fur enveloped his face. The sound of the shot carried through the forest and Hantle and Rounfil made toward the source as best they could.
Some of the reinforcements behind Rounfil carried lanterns, which cast light under the thick canopy where moonlight would not reach.
The group eventually found the branch aflame and Hantle called out. “Scout the area. But tread light.”
Rounfil nodded and raised a pistol before him. But the immediate area was nothing except trampled ground sprinkled with blood.
Several others joined the group and they all spread further into the woods with weapons drawn. A musket-carrying woman found paw prints and other markings from the wolf dragging its quarry. The tracks once more disappeared into the river that flowed to the cove.
Hantle and the crew searched the surroundings until they were exhausted and the sky lightened. Uncertain and worried, they called off the hunt and made their way back to town.
Hantle said to Rounfil, “The creature was within my reach for a moment. And I missed my chance to kill it. Now another two are dead.”
“We were all out there,” Rounfil replied. “And the wolf escaped us all. This is not on you.”
“I don’t want to return home empty handed to tell Lorenca the threat is still out there.”
“Not for lack of trying.”
Hantle nodded and clapped Rounfil on the shoulder before heading inside his house.
Lorenca sat in a chair and looked up expectantly at Hantle. “What happened?”
“The wolf struck again,” he said, as he crouched before her. “Against any odds, I will hunt it down.”
After the last hunter had entered her home, a breeze picked up. Strips of fog drifted between homes. The outhouse sat charred and smoldering.