Chapter 5
A fisherman stepped outside his house, on the southern side of town, into the thick, morning air. He picked up his tackle and pole from beside the front door and started north toward the cove. The sun was nearly above the tops of the trees. From a distance, he spotted something sitting in the middle of the cobblestone road. Uncertain, he took soft, long strides toward it. He initially thought it was some animal sitting there unawares, but, as he neared it, he knew that was not the case. Two ribbons of white topped with brown were surrounded by black and red.
Nothing moved as he came closer. He swung to the side of the path for a better view. The brown gave way to grey and the fisherman dropped his gear, vomited into the grass, and backed away from the street. A face lay on the stone, tilted to the side, and its tongue, swollen and purple, hung out of the mouth. He recognized it as belonging to the father who disappeared last night. The spine trailed down from his face and blood covered the road. Next to the dead father lay the head and spine of a boy. The fisherman was certain it was the dead man’s son, though he could not recall the name.
The man took a wide arc to the north and completed a half circle as he stood in the middle of the street again. The blood lead up this way, and ended in paw prints that trailed off into the grass. The fisherman’s eyes jumped to the forest, where he expected to see the wolf, snarling and frothing. He was frozen for a moment, even though he saw nothing but bushes and trees. Then he turned to home further toward the cove where he knew this family lived. Sunlight reflected off the windows and drew bright shapes on the grass. His gaze was drawn to the black mound behind the house, but from this distance he couldn’t tell what it was.
Drawing a deep breath, the fisherman turned away from the remains and walked to the porch, which was warm from the sun. His first knock on the door went unanswered, so he knocked again, more firmly.
A woman first unlocked and then swung the door open, saying, “Darling, what took you so long?”
When she realized it was not her husband, the look of hope faded from her face.
“May I come in?” the fisherman asked, glancing over his shoulder toward the road. He did not want her to see the street.
“Yes, of course.” She opened the door further and motioned him in. He stood in a small foyer and could see her daughter, still sleeping on the sofa.
“We tried staying up for him. So terrified to go outside though.” She continued, “We must have fallen asleep late in the night.”
“I…” the fisherman began and faltered. He looked toward the ground as he continued. “Your husband and your boy… I am terribly sorry.”
Her voice was just a whisper. “Tell me. You must.”
He raised his eyes to hers. “On my way to the cove this morning. I found them.”
“What happened last night?”
“I only know that the wolf did it.”
The mother’s shoulders slumped and her head lowered to her hands. Muffled sobs escaped her palms, and the fisherman lead her by the shoulder to the kitchen.
Her daughter rolled over on the couch and opened her eyes. “Ma, who is he?”
He answered for crying woman. “Just a fisher man, but you best go to your room.”
The mother looked up with red eyes. “He’s right, love. Go upstairs.”
The daughter started to ask something then changed her mind. Instead, she walked up the creaking stairs and shut her bedroom door behind her. The fisherman crouched beside the mother. “You stay here and I’ll fetch some others.”
A gentle breeze drove off the remaining fog. The fisherman’s knock interrupted the doctor just as he sat down to breakfast. The physician nodded at the grim news and gathered his bag. He took a single, large bite of the eggs before going out.
The doctor surveyed the scene before approaching the bodies. The sun was already beating hot and the doctor wiped his sleeve across his forehead. He said, “We’ll need more coffins.”
The sound of saw and hammer soon spread through the town, and drew a crowd in the street. The hammer falls portended another funeral.
A small brigade carried buckets of water from the wave-lapped shore to wash the cobblestone. With some scrubbing using horse-hair brushes, they removed the majority of the staining. A thin, red-tinted river trailed through the street’s stones toward the cove.
Soon, the town gathered in the square for the funeral service. Sunlight sank into black clothes, and the temperature added to the tension. Two new coffins sat upon hay bales, and Liova, the elder, once more stood with lilies in hand.
“My friends,” she said, “we have lost two more of our citizens. A father, known for his skill with snares and a musket. A son, bright in his studies and eager to help others.” She sat the lilies on the coffins, across the carved names.
“It is well known that danger is ever-present in the Far Finger, but we are not used to being preyed upon. The wolf has struck again. The Void rent the All, much like the pain that now rends our hearts.” Sweat ran down the sides of her face. Dropped onto her blouse.
“Let us be lenses that focus love and compassion onto their kin. We are the Animate, and we all resonate with the music of the Song.”
A man in the back stood up. “What will we do now?” He was angry. “We must prevent the beast from bringing hell for the third night running.” Others nodded in agreement with him.
“You have cause to be upset,” Liova replied. “But this is not the place to voice it.” The man nodded grimly — acknowledging her authority — and sat back down.
The elder then summoned the casket bearers, who carried both coffins to freshly dug graves. Tall grass had been cut down to widen the graveyard and accommodate the father and son. Last words followed the coffins into the ground as the mother and daughter dropped a handful each of dirt.
Another meal was laid out in the town’s square, and those who had helped in the morning filled their plates. Burying the dead was neither emotionally nor physically easy.
As Liova sat with a small plate and cup of cordial, she considered that man’s call for action. As a child, her family had migrated to Bansuth, the first city founded in the Far Finger. Bansuth had just been discovered as a location rich in resources. Liova’s family joined three others, and traveled from the plains far east of the mountain range, the Knuckles, that separated the lands.
One night during the middle of their journey, a pair of bandits raided the group and raped a woman. Her father caught and killed one of the men, while the other escaped. It wasn’t known, however, if there were other roving bandits. The following nights, husbands and wives took turns on guard, to keep the group safe. The large fires and watchful eyes kept the scavengers at bay. No longer an easy target, the families traveled from there on without incident. Now, Founsel seemed too easy a target.
Once the mourning meal was cleared, and the grieving back to their home, she’d call a meeting to discuss her idea. Tall clouds moved in and helped cool the day considerably.
“I suggest a night watch,” Liova said to the group spread out in front of her. “My family, like this town now, was once preyed on by creatures of convenience. Take away the opportunity and you take away the threat.”
A woman with shoulder-length, grey hair added, “If we placed lanterns around the town, we could keep a better watch and deter the beast. Wolves have no love for light.”
The group stood quietly and Liova looked across the faces. None were eager to join the watch.
Hantle pondered the idea for a moment before stepping forward, resolved. “I volunteer to lead the watch. I do this for my wife, my boys, and my town.” He imagined standing tall with a leg upon the dead wolf laying before him.
Liova looked to others in the crowd. “Hantle can’t save this town alone, you know. Who else is willing to join him?”
Rounfil stepped to Hantle’s side. Six more from the crowd drew up. Hantle nodded to each of them in turn.
“We will use two groups of four,” Hantle said. “The first four,” he pointed to Rounfil, two others, and himself, “will watch the first half of the night. The second group,” he pointed to the remaining four, “will relieve us and stand watch for the remainder.”
Liova stepped closer to those who had not been selected. “Keep in mind now that the rest of you can help prepare for the night. There’s plenty to do before darkness falls. Your families are at stake.”
The older woman who had mentioned the lanterns started toward her house. “I’ve got lanterns and poles to offer up. I’ll fetch them, and we can start posting them around the town’s perimeter.” Two others followed her to help.
A portly man with a long beard nodded. “I got a shipment of a dozen in from Bansuth this week.” He was the town’s proprietor. “I’d be happy to offer them for this.” The bottom half of his house was a general store of sorts.
Though the merchant was always willing to give people a fair deal, it made Liova smile to see him this generous. “Can anyone else spare weapons or ammunition?”
The day passed with the group nailing tall stakes into the ground at regular intervals on which they hung donated lanterns. Once the border was established, Hantle timed how long a sweep around the lanterns took. Twenty minutes at a brisk pace. To maximize coverage and minimize people being alone, they settled on two pairs. The pairs would start on opposite sides of town and circle it clockwise. After all the guards had taken a few laps, they explored the blind spots. Once these were understood, both watches got acquainted with one another and spent time at the cove practicing their shots with empty jars and bottles.
Before dusk arrived, each guard went to dinner with their family. The last two days made the importance of loved ones all too clear. Liova took an evening stroll with her grandson as she munched on a sweet roll. The lanterns would soon be lit, and the town would look much different with that unnatural lighting. She stared through the cobblestone and pictured tomorrow’s morning. Sun rising over a cloud-dotted sky with birds calling through the forest, and, most importantly, no spines or blood pools. She was afraid of what another horrific scene would do to her; and how should the rest of the town take it? Liova patted the boy’s arm as the moon peeked over the forest.
The wolf crept back toward Founsel and sat far beyond the forest’s edge. The drifting breeze brought him scents of all those who had been in this area today.
After he finished eating with Lorenca, Hantle left home with a long rod. He brought the lanterns to life and scouted the forest. He would lead the first watch by action.
The wolf, where he sat, was sheltered from both moon- lantern-light and did not move for some time. As the other three guards finished their meals and met outside, the creature walked away from the town and its many burning lanterns. He would feast elsewhere tonight. In the darker regions of this land.
The pairs paced the border set by the lanterns without incident. Halfway through the night, Hantle and his group were relieved by the second watch. That shift passed just as quietly. Even so, Hantle did not fall asleep. He was too worried the wolf would steal in just as he nodded off. It was before sunrise, when the birds started their chirping, that Hantle joined Rounfil in the town square. He was relieved to find the watch had indeed kept the beast at bay.
Rounfil gave him an approving nod. “Well done, Hantle. We’ve scared the wolf away.”
Hantle spread word to others as they woke and the town was hopeful.