Chapter 1
Wolf In Mourning
The sun showed her warmth upon a beautiful earth garden of pines, oaks, maples and all manner of shrubbery that dressed mountains and hills of the most spacious nature. The air was full with the lively sounds of nature, the birds did sing their odes to the morning light, the bees pollinated and the fishes of the river leapt from the flowing waters to catch the gnats and flies that hovered over their domain.
Despite these signs that pointed to all the life that seemed to flourish throughout this landscape, there were other factors that stilled the mood with ghastly ornaments of most terrible incident. The tree clearings and other discrete areas were riddled with the corpses of men. The evidence of their demise was no more apparent than the sight of arrows that stuck in their corpses and the liberation of limbs and entrails that lay scattered about.
This ground recently had been made a bloody graveyard due to a clash of severe hostilities that left a heavy and hallowed atmosphere behind. Among the sounds and sights this environment offered, there was another that was the most sorrowing.
Kneeling by the bank of the river, was a woman with auburn hair, wolf ears and tail of the said color. She was unclothed, yet uncaring. Her face was buried in her hands and there she wept loudly with overbearing remorse. Her tears were a signifier of her agony as she wailed and gnashed her teeth with unrelenting, emotional torment.
"….Lawrence….!" she sobbed with bitterness.
Then pounding the ground with self resentment and rage, she screamed towards the sky, "LAWRENCE!" which echoed throughout the canyon walls.
Smiting the rocks on the ground repeatedly, she moaned in unison, "Why….why….just no….WHY!"
While this ballad of bewailing was harmonizing roughly throughout the air, there was another specter who stood not too far off in the distance behind her. A strong and powerful man who stood at least over two meters tall and weighed two hundred and fifty pounds of shear brawn.
He wore a dark blue vest whose arms were bare and bosom was made visible. His leggings were white and loose fitting with brown boots that hiked up to his calves. Lastly his face was hooded and masked with a sword of curious workmanship within his clutches.
The blade was single edged and curved, with a hilt of silver while the handle embroidered ray skin of mauve. The end pommel was jagged with a six inch tassel of the same color connected to it. Lastly, the area of metal next to the collar had calligraphy etched deep and vertical, whose characters could not be determined.
His garments were rent with slashes that were soaked with the red of his own flesh. His apparel was coarse and bloodied from the day's activities. His eyes glared down the river bend with subtle animosity.
He too was not alone, for he had a burly four legged companion sitting by his side. A black and gold shepherd dog of the most loyal yet fiercest mien.
Sheathing the sword, the hooded man turned and walked away up the slope. The hound stayed perched, observing curiously the lamenting she wolf until the master called, "Come Kaytaff."
Instantly, the animal turned and walked close to his owner. As the hood pushed through the herbage and greeneries we came upon a set of corpses who seemed more lifeless than the rocks and trees. There was one sitting against a trunk with his head bowed and an arrow shooting from it. He grabbed the lapels and hoisted the body over his shoulder and continued up the way.
There was another body of a deceased that caught his eye, a shirtless man with a terrible puncture wound in his gut. Looking upon him for only a moment, the masked man haunched over, grabbed the ankle and drug the corpse up the hill.
Soon after a most morbid hike, he came across a forsaken campground with many arrows laying in and around the scene. There was a large wagon and a brown shire hitched to a tree yonder off.
After inspecting the wagon, he threw the bodies in the bed of it and began to strip them of their clothing down to their under layers. He pulled the arrow from the skull of the one and clenched it close to his chest, then discarded it.
He then opened a compartment and found a dark brown mantle within. He withdrew it and kept it folded within his arm. His thoughts were interrupted when the sound of small whimpers caught his attention. Kaytaff had put his paws up on the wagon in the attitude of honoring the men whose spirits had departed their mortal frames.
The master departed down the path from whence he came, yet allowed the dog to mourn in his own right.
Eventually he came back to the river where the wolf matron was found exactly where she was left. However this time her position changed to her being upon her thigh holding herself up with one hand with the other covered her watering eyes.
Her ears slightly turned upon his advance, for she could hear his footsteps mince the small rocks beneath his soles. She covered herself with her arms in attempts to prevail some modesty before him, while he, who seemed without the effects of typical male arousal, handed the blanket to her and said, "Conceal yourself."
She took the mantle and wrapped it around her exposed figure, yet stayed sitting upon the ground, looking upon the river with a most remorseful gaze.
With an obdurate air in his subtle tone, the hood instructed, "Come, we cannot stay here."
She angled her head up towards the sun with closed eyes, yet made no notion of arising to her feet. She stayed as only a statue, whose soul was in the very depths of agony.
The hooded man then put his hand forcefully on her shoulder and said with more demand in his voice, "Holo, we must leave now…!"
She abruptly stood and, being quite beside herself, fought against him while yelling, "This….! All of this! Was your fault!" she wept.
The masked man made no quarrel in returned, he only let her vent her anger and misery , before taking hold of both shoulders with enough force to gain her attention. "It matters not if I came to your aid. This tragedy would have come upon you regardless.' said he, 'There will be a time to mourn, however, now is not that time."
She stilled her aggression and hid her face in shame and humiliation while her ears hung low. She wrapped the mantle more closely around herself and was silent. The masked man then led the way back up to the wagon.
As they were engaged in the pursuit, Holo suddenly detoured into the woods, where a few dead lay. She came across an area were a few massive wolf prints creased the ground, and there she followed them back to where they originated. There she scavenged around what appeared to be torn clothes.
The hood followed her in and withdrew a small, red pouch with a draw string around it and inquired, "Is it this that you are looking for?"
He then tossed it to her feet who retrieved it and tied it around her neck but continued to look. Her hand search furiously between the leaves and tattered raiments while becoming more frantic with each pass that was fruitless in result.
"No, it must still be here." she said with a surge of unrest.
The masked man watched with reserved interest until he beckoned, "Time is of the essence."
"I cannot leave until I find it!" she moaned with dedicated persistence.
Holo clawed around a bit more until she raised her head with a look of remembrance, "Oh that is right,' said she while arising from her haunch and moving over to an oak with a deep knot in it and there placed her hand inside and brought it out clenching something, 'I set it in here."
Then with all the gratefulness that scarcely exceeded her grief, she held up the object that was a most welcomed token the situation bestowed upon her. It was her wedding ring, the one thing she had removed so that it would not be destroyed. Carefully she slid it onto her finger and held it up to the light so that it would shimmer.
"From the bottom of my heart…." said she with disillusion.
She then reunited with the hooded figure who held his peace yet appeared somewhat athirst as he awaited her return. She continued to examine the wedding band with a gaze of catatonic loneliness, then began speaking of it, however to whom she was talking with was not apparent.
"This is the one thing I cherished more than my tail.' said she, 'I remember when Lawrence gave this to me-e-e!" she then began to break down once more.
The hood then pointed towards the water and observed, "Fear not, for we have a great trail to follow." said he in reference to the river which flowed in only one direction.
"And then what?' she exclaimed unexpectedly, 'Travel on and await the next ambush?"
"I shall handle it." reassured the man with cold confidence.
"Look around you!,' she returned sharply and with mad reason, 'This was not a mere roadside raid by bloodthirsty bandits, this was a well organized attack by a small army!"
"An astute observation." came the nonchalant reply.
"These men were numbered in the dozens, if I have learned anything from humans is that they always return in greater numbers. What will you do when we are besieged upon by hundreds? Even I cannot overcome such odds if overrun." she protested.
"I will find a way."
"How? You are only one man. Though survive this ordeal we did, we are all that is left! Two of your own are dead, with another kidnapped….along with my….husband…" she said with despair.
"A mistake that will be paid for in full." came the hood's aggressive response.
They continued their walk up the hill, in which Holo glanced around the deceased carcasses that looked as heaps upon the earth and pondered, "How could Jurgen have amassed such a battalion as this?"
Being more educated on the matter, the hood informed with irrefutable precision, "Look upon the inconsistencies of garb and design of weapons."
It was then that the she wolf noticed that the choice of apparel varied in certain ways, and the tools of war were assorted in terms of indigenous to country. The masked man then went on, "These men did not belong under one banner, they most likely had allegiance to the many mercenary guilds and bandit regimes who were paid and organized by Jurgen to accomplish the task."
"I still do not understand what is driving him to do this." replied Holo with painful curiosity, "You told me of his hate for Laternieux and his group of vigilantes and all those who assist them, but there is more here than what we can see."
She took a moment to examine one corpse whose skin was absent of color and lips that had an overflow of red streaming down them. He lay motionless with a great slash across his torso which presumably is what brought about him his end.
"Though these men were bought with money, I do strongly wish to know why it is that Jurgen is going through such exhaustive lengths to have me killed." said the woman.
Suddenly, the arm of the corpse moved and caught hold of her ankle. Holo gasped and kicked away at it in which she managed to break free.
Coughing out blood, the dying individual, who was only awaiting his final hour, pled, "Please….don't leave…me…."
Holo then found herself gently pushed aside as the hooded swordsman drew his blade and towered over the sufferer. "What kindness is owed to you?" asked he with a rebuke like air.
Then without pity or mercy, the tip of the blade drew a straight line across the throat as the masked man pulled his sword over the flesh. Gargling and being exceptionally weak, the frenzied individual past on moments later.
Wiping the edges clean, the hood sheathed his weapon and continued to lead the way. Holo gazed upon him with astounded abhorrence at his actions.
"Could you not have left him to the natural courses of mortality?" asked she of the slayer.
"There can be no witnesses." responded he with sharpness.
Biting her lower lip, the she wolf pulled the mantle tightly around her shoulders and followed a ways after him. This commute endured until they were finally at the wagon with the other two bodies laying in the back.
Kaytaff was laying on his belly who quickly perched his head up when sensing their approach. Holo recognized the two men and said with trembling sorrow, "I am so sorry of Angelo and Jabari, they were good men."
The masked man did not respond, he only approached the shire who began to pound the earth in agitation, while braying aggressively. The master came around so that the hoarse could see him and carefully put his hands around his muzzle. "Whoa….Gallavaun." he soothed.
In time the beast began to ease down and allowed his owner to unhitch him and walk him to the wagon. Shortly after, the shire was hooked to the wagon and ready to test his strength.
The masked man then began to check the crates that were nailed in place on the wagon, each having a padlock to prevent them from being stolen or looted. After deeming that all seemed accounted for, he began to scavenge for any provision that may prove useful in the future, namely arrows, knives and coins.
Holo only retrieved one item for herself that was found laying on the ground, a book with a black, well worn cover that had a faded gold outline along the perimeter.
When looking upon herself, she made the notion, "Is there anyway we can find me some clothes?"
Looking back at her, the hooded globetrotter stripped one corpse of his garments and approached her with them.
Upon seeing this, the she wolf protested with despair, "Oh no, please. I cannot wear that."
"It is a covering suitable enough for the moment." responded he.
"It is not style nor size that concerns me,' she returned with delicacy, 'I can smell and see the blood on it, and cannot bear to have it on me!"
"If we are seen on the highway, what think the people when they see a man stained with crimson and a wolf girl who has only a blanket to hide her nakedness?" returned the hood with impatient disapproval, 'Aside from that, to obtain clothing to your liking comes at a price, and the horse and chariot which had the bulk of our fundings has departed and was most likely intercepted by our attackers. Plus, I will need new garb for these have been soiled."
He then held the clothes more forcefully to her, "It is your elective."
"Then I will go naked until we can find something more appropriate!" she snapped back with defiance. "Besides this is how I lived my life before traveling."
With an aggressive sigh, the man slung the clothes to the ground. Holo, when seeing his provocation, cooled herself and pled with more reason, "Would you wish to have a constant reminder draped about you that looks and wreaks of the tragedy that has taken someone dearly from you?"
Glancing his eyes towards her he returned with a rebuke, "In the future then, should the need ever arise for you to revert to your wolf form, de robe ahead of time, so that such trifles may not molest our designs again."
She lowered her eyes and climbed into the passenger seat, and held herself in a reserved posture. While the masked man addressed to the dog, "Load up." Once said, Kaytaff jumped into the back and took his place.
The hood then turned around and approached the overturned log next to what remained of the smoldering fire pit and retrieved another article of clothing that made the heart of Holo jump. It was the brown jacket that belonged to Lawrence, which was left during the skirmish.
He then handed it to her, who took hold of it and held it so tightly as if it was the man himself. The masked man then handed her the belt and buckler that belonged to Angelo, then turned around to give her some privacy. She then placed the jacket on and buttoned it up, then wrapped the blanket about her waist, tucked it and secured it with the girdle.
Vaguely satisfied with her appearance, she gave him the all clear who took his place in the driver's seat.
The reigns struck the back of Gallavaun in which the mighty beast pulled forward. To Holo's surprise they were not heading towards the highway but were going up the slope which ran parallel to the river.
"Are you too ashamed to be seen with me on the roads?" asked Holo with discourtesy to what the man had in mind.
"There is one last thing I must do." said he while looking back at the bodies of Angelo and Jabari.
As they road on through, Holo took a moment to clear her mind of one thing that did in fact shame her, "I am sorry, I did not want you to see me like that."
"Drastic times call for drastic measures." he responded.
"That may be, however I never wanted people to see me and be afraid. It had been sometime since I have taken my wolf form…and it has been even longer since I have taken the life of another human." she finished with serene remorse.
"You did what needed to be done." returned the man with a clear conscience.
"But I never thought that I would ever be forced to do it again."
"And why did you?"
"I only wanted to save Lawrence!"
"Is that then, not a justifiable cause?"
"I love him more than you can imagine!' she returned with aggression, 'And I will do it again if I must, it is only the thought of; who am I to determine if his life is worth the lives of dozens of others?"
"It is better for the souls of a hundred wicked men to perish and die than one innocent man to perish and dwindle in unbelief." said the hood with calm testimony of what he spoke.
Holo was silent after that, she only sat and pondered her actions as the wagon was brought to a halt. Then peering to her right, she saw that they were brought to the top of a bluff that towered over the rushing waters.
The hood then dismounted and searched around the rocks and found two small boulders. He set them at the ledge of the stoney drop off then went back to the wagon. Holo watched him curiously as he then retrieved a set of ropes.
He then pulled the bodies of Angelo and Jabari out and dragged them over to the ledge and tied their feet to the boulders. Then with a heave, their corpses were tossed over and lost within the river below where they may never be found.
Mortified, Holo could not help but attempt a reprove, "Your friends would want a more proper burial from their trusted leader, would they not?"
The hood stared out into the jagged horizons, then said, "Good men they were in life, but now in death, they are only evidence."
He then retook his place in the driver's seat. This time the horse was steered towards the road. Most peculiar of all the elements of this somber commute, was despite the beauty of the earth, the atmosphere was filled with gloom.
When they had at last reached the dirt road that was still within the cover of the trees, Holo asked, "What is to be done now?"
The masked man straightened his neck and returned, "I will take you as far as Valenfurt, you will be safe there."
"What of you?"
"There is a checkpoint a few leagues away from the settlement, there, I will send out for reinforcements and restock on our missing provisions. Then go after Jurgen and his captives."
Holo gritted with a disgruntled manner, "That is it then? You are going to leave me alone then go off after Lawrence on your own?!"
"My first priority is to keep you safe."
"We have an enemy in common,' returned the she wolf, 'they took one of your own men, Matthias and my Lawrence. I am Holo the wise wolf, and would be able to be a great help to you."
He glanced over to her and commented, "Small and simple compliances would be a great help to me."
"If you are referring to the moment when I refused to wear those hematic atrocities, then perhaps you should be more reasonable in your demands. Especially when considering a woman's tastes."
He kept his eyes on the road as the horse bobbed his head and did not respond.
Holo then turned to him and inquired with a light tone, "Oh, do not tell me that you of all people, who seems to know the schemes of all men, could not possibly know the preferences of the opposite sex."
There was still no response, yet he seemed to be becoming more alienated in his stillness. Upon noticing his agitation, Holo leaned over with a more penitent look of innocence and asked carefully, "You have been deeply associated with a female at one point in your life, have you not?"
He clinched more tightly the leather reigns and furled his brow, yet continued his muteness. The she wolf could feel the pulse of estrangement flow through them both. Her only response then was to fix her posture and say quietly, "I am sorry if I upset you."
After a few minutes of non communication, the Hood finally gave word, "This area of the land has a few nomads between here and Valenfurt. They sell goods at a low price, perhaps there will be garbs for us to purchase."
"If money is low, then what shall we do for food?"
"Hunt for our meat." said he.
She looked on and asked, "How far is Valenfurt?"
"A day's journey, if all goes well, we may reach there by nightfall."
"That may not be so." observed Holo who noticed a collection of dark clouds coming over the mountains. "A storm is coming."
"We must press on." said the masked man.
Holo's intuition proved true when the future came to pass. For the crystal blue sky was snuffed away with dark rain clouds which soaked all that was underneath their reach.
The hood was motionless as the water flushed around him, while Holo tucked in her arms and was shivering with her teeth chattering.
"I know you wish to press on,' said she, 'however there may be no one to protect if I catch my death out here."
Finding some reason in her words the masked man then said, "I will see if there is shelter for you until the storm passes."
As the wagon pushed through the mud and soggy earth, Holo scanned the panorama of tress and underbrush that was hazed with pellets of water. Through the screen of grey, she noticed a type of large figure seemed as a structure.
"Over there." said she.
The hood steered the horse over to what was now identified as an old shack with dead lumber that was spaced unevenly across the walls. Trembling from wet and pale skin, Holo went to disembark, but the man's hand caught her shoulder.
"Let me go in first." said he.
His boots hit the moistened ground with a slap and approached the decrepit door with hinges that were darkly bronzed with rust that was obtained through an unceasing exposure to the elements. Carefully he placed one hand on the latch while the other grasped the hilt of his weapon.
With a pull, the door opened defectively with a creaking whine as the entrance was slowly panned in the process. After peering in and checking the corners, the hood then waved the she wolf to come in.
She quitted the passenger seat and walked over to him while trying to avoid stepping on the sharp rocks and twigs mixed within the tall grass with her bare feet. Once she approached the door, she could see a dark and drafty interior with a bed of old hay sitting in the corner.
The hood then went to and from the wagon with a flint stone and began to make kindling out of the hay and struck sparks with a small knife he had obtained during the scavenge. After a few minutes, he was able to create a small fire.
Holo kneeled beside it and hovered her palms over the heat producing flames. While she was thus situating herself, the masked man once again returned to the wagon and came back with another coil of rope, in which he tied it from one end to the other which had the line conveniently placed over the fire.
"You may dry off here in the time being." said he while walking outside.
"What of you?" asked she.
"I will take shelter under the wagon." he returned while shutting the door.
When finding herself alone, Holo slipped off the heavy and damp clothing and hung them over the fire. Then putting more hay into the fire she took her place beside it.
The shivers began to let up as the warmth began to raise her body temperature. She then placed a hand upon her stomach and said with motherly assuage for the child that was growing within her, "There, there little one, it will be alright."
Her eyes then locked onto the jacket of her husband and father of her child. She arose and took hold of it then laid on her side while hugging it tightly.
She could smell the scent of her beloved upon it, which only pulled her soul into heartbreak. Then, just as it was at the bank of the river, she began to weep over it with a bitterness that could only be comprehended by those who suffered a similar trial.
Days ago, she and her husband, Lawrence were the proud owners of the 'Spice and Wolf Inn and Bathhouse.' They were a happily married couple with the recent discovery that Holo was with child. All seemed well within their humble lifestyle until tragedy struck.
Amidst a most interesting day, Holo and Lawrence found themselves targeted by the workers of a deadly conspiracy. A conspiracy that called for the elimination of the pagan gods, such as Holo.
This unspeakable crusade had caused the destruction of their inn, the identity of Holo to become compromised by the townsfolk which gave them no choice but to vacate entirely the place they had once called home. Atop it all, her husband was kidnapped in a bloody engagement which left two allies dead and another abducted as well.
Despite these unbearable incursions of fear, panic and near annihilation, Holo was still alive. This one success however could not be wholly delegated to her wisdom and canine intuitions.
There was another who was aware of their dark situation before they were. A man who was as mysterious as he was deadly. A man whom Holo personally witnessed bathe in the crimson rivers that flowed from his enemies by the hand of his blade.
A warrior who could do with the sword what few could do with the paint brush. A hunter who could track and slay the most dangerous of game. A true master in the arts of war.
Though none seemed to remain who knew his true identity and of his past, to Holo, he was only known as The Ranger.
