Chapter 8
Dawn found the town bustling with activity. Many woke in the night, just after the wolf left, and watched the woods until the sky lightened. Patrols worked their way around the town’s perimeter, going dozens of yards into the woods, looking for remains, clues, or other evidence. Little was found; and none of skulls and spines. The wolf no longer needed those to strike his fear. Anticipation of the coming night was dread enough.
A party gathered in the woods for a more extensive search. Hantle held no hope of finding a guard alive, but he looked on. Along the cove’s coast, they located seventeen sheep. The rest were either scattered or eaten. Midway through the day they called off the search. None of the missing were found, and all were presumed dead. Someone noted the shepherd was also absent.
Preparations were made for the funeral of those guards watch slain in duty. The lack of remains meant a focus on honoring and building a memorial rather than laying to rest. Several days ago, Liova was at a loss for words for the funeral. Today, she felt disconcerted when they came to her so readily.
Others donned their buckets once more to bring water from the cove to wash blood from the street. They’d have more to do after the funeral, given the scope of the chaos. Amidst the splashing water and red rivers, they hoped for another thunderstorm to wash it away.
The blacksmith dropped her latest work into a barrel of water to cool. She’d forged an iron mourning wreath. Her neighbor, the schoolteacher, was packing his family’s essentials into their wagon. The blacksmith looked down the street and saw other families packing as well.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
The school teacher replied, “We are using the day to put as many miles between Founsel and us as we can. Aim for a place like Harsenth or Bansuth, far away from here.”
He set two bags of clothing into the wagon, then turned to ask a question of his own. “Why in the hell would you stay?”
The blacksmith was taken aback. “Founsel’s always been my home. No wolf is going to change that.”
“Suit yourself. But I won’t let my family die here.”
“Dying in a strange land seems preferable, then?”
The schoolteacher ignored her final comment and went back into his house to grab another load.
The trapper checked his snares and found all empty but one. A sheep was dead in the rope by the creek west of town. He punched the ground before cutting the sheep free. “No. No more.”
His wife looked up as he walked through their door. She asked, “Are we staying?”
“When you sense a snare, you head the other way.”
Word went around town of the funeral beginning. The town set aside their tasks and gathered in the square. There again sat bales of hay streaming ribbons.
The carpenter had made five smaller boxes that morning. Instead of remains, these would contain mementos of those taken. The funeral began with family members placing into the boxes a hat, a book, a knife, or any small item which embodied their loved one. The last child placed a flute belonging to his mother, that final guard, next to a broach his father included. Liova stepped up next to the man. She went down the line of boxes and closed their lids. Each box was set at an angle to display the name carved thereon.
“The summer is a time for growth and beauty. But, as a day can start so wonderfully sunny and fragrant, so it can also end stormy and bitter. We must weather just as the trees and mountains do. Even the winds do not last forever. They will spend themselves, and the branches will settle.
“The five members of Founsel taken from us last night will never be forgotten. And, as we remember them, let us also remember why they died. To protect us. To protect their town. To be the wall against the wind. Let us merge their Song with ours and make a tune both new and forceful. One that will carry over the gales of this season, and resonate into the deep future.”
The elder invited the families up to say their parting words before the bearers lead, with the coffins in hand, on to the graveyard. A new line of plots had been excavated and in them were set the wooden memorial boxes. Once the graves were filled, many returned to the town square for the mourning meal. The rest headed home to resume their packing.
Of the thirty homes and families in Founsel, six left by noon. The dust from a caravan of five wagons hung in the hot, stagnant air. The last man and his daughter left via a sailboat from the cove and sailed toward the Fist, beyond the Knuckles.
After the meal concluded, Hantle lead his wife home and set Lorenca before her painting supplies. She had hardly spoken since the funeral for their boys. He kissed her forehead and walked back to the town square. Those gathered discussed their options for another night.
A night watch was an obvious option, but the utter failure of the previous night raised doubts of its effectiveness. It wasn’t apparent what else could be done. A few mentioned the sense in boarding up the homes and laying low. Indeed, the thought was enticing: to show the wolf no prey so he would pass through the city and be on his way. But Hantle and Rounfil weren’t persuaded the wolf would be dismissed so easily.
Hantle spoke up. “We know the wolf has attacked each night since he took my boys. From the glimpse we caught last night, we know the shepherd was right: the wolf is huge. It would be folly to think he’ll pass out of town so peacefully.”
Three disagreed with him, and their minds could not be changed. They soon left the square and set about boarding up the windows and doors on the first floor of their homes. They imagined having a better chance of seeing the morning if others were putting themselves in harm’s way. Before dinner time, these three families were holed up inside and quiet.
The rest of the citizens who sided with Hantle set out to make preparations of their own. There would be a single, long watch tonight. Arms were gathered and split evenly; rifles and pistols, black powder and shot, knives and axes. Founsel was once more brightly lit and the lantern fuel replenished. In the glow, the outfit looked grim and aggressive.
And the night began with thirty-five citizens on watch.