The morning mist hung opalescent over the countryside, catching the sun's early rays and making the landscape glow. The balloon, also suspended in mid-air, glided almost as quietly as the mist towards the city in the distance.

The balloon's aeronaut paused in his tinkering to glance at the city, its spires shining golden. His daemon, a rangy hare, hopped up on a crate to peer over the edge of the balloon's basket too.

'Sure is pretty,' said the daemon.

'It sure is, Hester,' replied the aeronaut. 'Though if the rumours are true, and Iorek's down there, I don't think he came for the scenery.'

He swung himself with practised ease onto the rim of the basket to stare down at the city of Oxford, home to some of the world's greatest experimental theologians, a great university and, if some Skraeling barflies were to be believed, an armoured bear whose natural habitat was the ice and tundra of the arctic, thousands of miles away from the golden stone and surrounding fields and verdant forest.

The Skraelings had crossed themselves when mentioning Oxford. They'd claimed the place was home to monstrous beasts, men-wolves who were neither one thing nor the other, who wore their fur on the inside. The aeronaut had literally bitten his tongue to keep from chortling.

'So, why do you think he's here, Lee? Assuming he is here, and it wasn't that whisky you bought those men doing the talking,' Hester asked.

'Can't rightly say,' the aeronaut, whose full name was Lee Scoresby, answered. 'But he's up to something if he is. We'd better go lend a hand.'

Hester sighed.

'And here was me thinking that we might get some peace after our dealings with those witches,' she grumbled. 'I shoulda known better. When are you going to find some honest employment, Lee? I wouldn't ask but you're running mighty low on coin. We gotta eat sometimes.'

'Don't worry, Hester,' Lee grinned, leaping back down into the basket and stroking her ears. 'There's bound to be work for an aeronaut down there. I just want to check on Iorek, is all. We owe that bear our lives, Hester.'

'I know we do,' Hester acknowledged. 'But he may not appreciate our barging in on him. Folks in trouble don't always welcome meddling.'

'Who said anything about meddling?' Lee asked, mock-indignant. 'We're just going to check up on him, is all.'

Hester shook herself, mottled fur quivering.

'You keep telling yourself that, Lee,' she drawled as Lee pulled at a lever, commencing their descent. 'You keep telling yourself that.'

#

Travelling to Oxford wasn't the smooth and easy journey it was in the wild, half-lawless fishing towns and trappers' outposts of the far north. Lee knew there would be a designated airfield, plenty of guards and a plethora of paperwork to contend with were he to try and land his balloon within the city precincts.

Happily, a sailor acquaintance who'd begun his sailing career on coal barges meandering down the canals between Manchester and London, had given Lee the name of a local farmer who was willing to stow small aircraft in an old barn, no questions asked, for a moderate sum.

Lee and Hester skated at a low height over the countryside, following the course of the river Isis, causing a commotion among the local children who spied their progress, prompting shrieks and waves of amazement, until Hester's sharp golden eyes spotted the green-painted farmhouse they'd been told of. Lee dropped anchor in the farmyard in front of the house, and a ruddy-cheeked, sturdy man with a badger for a daemon came out of the house and greeted the stranger and his balloon without an iota of surprise.

Within an hour, a deal had been struck and Lee's balloon stowed safely in an old, dusty but spacious barn. It had cost Lee nearly all his remaining money, but he was in a chipper mood as he and Hester strolled down the road towards Oxford. No matter how refined the city, there was sure to be a tavern or two with a less than respectable clientele and a few card games going on. Lee had the Devil's knack at cards, as even Hester admitted.

Half-an-hour's walk brought them to the outskirts of the city. Lee eschewed the more elegant streets where the scholars and wealthy businesspeople strolled, and made his way to the trading district surrounding the canal basin, where the barges from Manchester and Bristol were unloaded and reloaded, and where the farriers and tanners and furniture-makers and butchers and clockmakers kept their workshops.

A quick word in the ear of one of the local urchins, and Lee knew that yes, there was a panserbjørn in Oxford, renting space in a blacksmith's forge and doing astonishing things with iron for mere cents. His arrival, just over a month ago, had caused a sensation, and much hand-wringing from the authorities, but the bear had caused no trouble, keeping very much to himself and shunning all approaches from scholars, businessmen and rubberneckers. The novelty had almost worn off by now, and most people gave him a wide berth.

Lee offered the scrap a golden dollar if he'd lead them to the panserbjørn, an offer which made the boy's eyes bug from his head and caused his daemon to turn into a parrot and squawk in excitement. Ten minutes later, Lee and Hester found themselves outside the smith's, a capacious tin-roofed shed with whitewashed walls. A bored-looking policeman, evidently assigned sentry duty, lounged on the opposite pavement, a decent distance from the forge. Even from the street, the grunts and growls of some massive creature could be heard.

Lee grinned and tossed the boy his dollar. The urchin gave him a quick salute and scurried off, dog-daemon trotting alongside. Lee watched them go, and then stepped forward and rapped smartly on the shed's wooden door.

'Enter,' someone within snarled.

Lee swung the door open and propped himself against the jamb, surveying the scene. It was cool and shady in the shed, and there was nothing but ashes in the great fireplace that dominated an entire wall. Bears needed no fire for their metalwork. Nor were there any tools to be seen, not even a hammer for beating the metal. Instead, there was a mighty panserbjørn crouched in the centre of the room, encased in his armour, intent on the panel for some vehicle he was shaping with his gargantuan paws.

''Lo, Iorek,' said Lee. 'Wasn't expecting to see you here.'

Iorek showed no surprise at this, not even pausing in his work.

'Lee Scoresby,' he acknowledged, nodding his massive head at the aeronaut. 'What brings you to Oxford?'

'Heard a rumour you were in town,' Lee remarked, leaving his post and strolling into the shed. It was shady in there, but he could see Iorek's eyes glinting, sharp and serious. 'Wasn't sure I believed it, but here you are.'

'Here I am,' the bear grunted, lowering his eyes to his craft.

'What are you doing here?' Lee asked, keeping his voice light. 'Working, I can see that, but why? For what?

'For coin,' the great bear grumbled.

That gave Lee pause.

'Coin?' he repeated, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. 'Iorek, you don't give two snaps for coin. Never heard of a bear that did. You're not in some kind of trouble, are you?'

At last, the great paws fell still and Iorek looked up, looked Lee in the face. For a long moment, they were frozen in tableau. Then Iorek spoke.

'I am in no trouble, Lee Scoresby,' he said. 'I am here for a purpose, one that does not involve coin. But neither does it involve you. Good day to you. I hope your visit here is a fruitful one.'

Lee, curiosity raging, wanted to stay and question the bear further, but Hester was pressing against herself against his leg, a clear warning. So, he tipped his hat to Iorek, and strolled out of the forge, acting casual for the sake of the policeman. He was conscious that Iorek's acute ears were tracking his progress, making sure he was going as requested.

They made it all the way back to the hubbub of the canal basin before Hester spoke.

'That went well,' she remarked dryly.

'Something's up, Hester,' Lee answered as they strode along, dodging deliverymen and stacks of crates. 'Iorek's got something on his mind. Reckon we should stick around a while and find out what it is.'

'Why not?' Hester offered. 'We're stuck here until you earn some money, anyway.'

#

Lee strolled alongside the canal, exchanging pleasantries with the workmen and a gyptian or two, looking for a likely place of employment. He was contemplating a prosperous-looking brick factory when he felt Hester tugging at his trouser leg.

He glanced down and saw Hester nodding at a young man standing in the midst of a group of even younger men, boys really, gesticulating with a sharp hunting knife and reckless disregard for eyeballs and nostrils.

'That kid says the town council is hiring hunters,' Hester told him. 'Something about clearing out the forest nearby. Seems they have a wolf problem. Good rates of pay.'

Lee raised an eyebrow. He was an experienced hunter, having started by shooting rabbits on the Texan prairies and then whatever was around for dinner on his many voyages to the north. He'd never hunted wolves, however. They avoided humans for the most part, and there were easier ways of making money than tracking and trapping them for fur. And truthfully, Lee liked wolves. He admired their toughness, their wildness.

'Not really my line of work,' he remarked to Hester.

'Couldn't hurt to make enquiries.'

Lee shrugged and strolled up to the group of youths.

''Scuse me, gentlemen,' he said, and their chattering ceased with amusing speed. 'Heard you discussing a hunt that's being organised. You say you've got a wolf problem on your doorstep?'

The young man with the knife, his frill-necked lizard daemon perched on his shoulder, turned to face Lee, a cocky smile plastered on his face.

'That's right,' he said. 'They're a menace. They've been killing sheep, cattle, even attacked a few people. The council want men to hunt them down. I'm going to sign up this afternoon.'

'Where are they hiring?' Lee asked.

'The town hall,' one of the knife-man's audience piped up, his lapwing daemon peering between his legs at Lee and Hester. 'They're trying to recruit at least twenty-four men.'

Lee whistled.

'That many, huh?' he said. 'These must be some wolves you're tangling with. Never knew a wolf hunt that needed that many men.'

'Well, perhaps you're not used to hunting wolves,' the young man with the knife chimed in, jabbing the point in Lee's direction.

'Says who?' Lee grinned, moving one foot back a little, to be ready for a fight should these boys care to pick one. He doubted it, however. They couldn't appear more callow if they had tried. He regarded the knifeman with a practised eye. The kid didn't know how to use that knife – he was holding it too far away from his body and his grip on the handle was awkward.

'If I were you, kid, I'd give this a miss,' he said to the knifeman. 'I don't think you'll kill many wolves with that blade. You couldn't slice a loaf of bread, the way you hold it.'

A couple of snickers sounded. Lee heard Hester mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'good going, Lee.' The young man with the knife bridled.

'Why? Think you're better'n me? You think you've got what it takes?' he sneered. 'Listen, Texan, you may be flashy, but these wolves are vicious. They'll tear you limb from limb.'

'You don't say,' Lee drawled. 'Sounds like fun. I'll take my chances, young fella. Done some hunting in my time.'

The kid regarded him a little apprehensively, shaken by Lee's insouciance. But with all his friends watching him, he wasn't inclined to back down.

'These wolves aren't for the faint-hearted,' he continued, still pointing the knife at Lee. The aeronaut regarded the weapon with mild apprehension. Lee wasn't afraid of a brawl, but knives, even in the hands of fools, demanded respect.

'These wolves are big as calves,' the boy continued. 'They move like lightning, fast and deadly. Like so –'

He lunged at Lee with the knife. Perhaps he'd only intended to scare the Texan, but Lee took being stabbed somewhat personal. He stepped neatly to the side, grabbed the kid's wrist and twisted his arm towards his shoulder. The boy yelped and his fingers slackened. Lee took the knife from him and threw it with force into the wooden door of a nearby workshop. The point sank into the wood, and the knife stuck there, trembling with the force of the throw.

'Do yourself a favour, kid, and don't poke a knife at people in future,' Lee said to his flinching captive. His voice was quiet and intent, and there was a note in it that made the young men watching shudder. 'Cause sooner or later someone'll take it amiss.'

He shoved the young man away, and the boy crouched, whimpering as he massaged his wrist, the lizard daemon hissing at Lee. The aeronaut tipped his hat to the wide-eyed onlookers regarding him with newfound respect, and strolled away, one ear primed for the sounds of pursuit.

They were two streets away before Hester gave the all-clear.

'All mouth and no balls,' she pronounced. 'Shouldn't think they'll be any trouble in future. You probably did the kid a service. He'll think twice now before he goes looking for trouble.'

'Let's hope so,' Lee muttered. 'Come on, let's find the town hall.'

'You're going to sign up?'

'Maybe,' Lee said. 'First, I want to find out what's so terrible about these wolves that it's gonna take two dozen men to handle them.'

#

Oxford Town Hall was, like the colleges, built in golden stone with elaborate, elegant decoration that screamed money and good taste. Lee felt decidedly out-of-place strolling up the steps and into the main hall, which was panelled in dark wood and decorated with paintings that probably cost more than his balloon.

Despite that, when he mentioned the wolf hunting to the clerk at the front desk, the woman nodded and without hesitation directed him to a conference room a few doors down.

Lee found it within moments, and, unabashed, pressed his ear to the wood, Hester doing likewise. The wood was too thick for him to hear much, only the rumble of voices. So, he stepped back and knocked.

The door was swung open by a nervous lackey dressed all in black, his jay daemon crouched on his shoulder. Lee regarded him with some surprise, not at all pleasant. The man wore no insignia, but Lee knew a Magisterium stooge when he saw one.

He stepped further into the room, which was dominated by a vast mahogany table, polished to a blinding sheen. However, there were only two people currently seated at it: a small grey-haired man, also dressed in black save for the ceremonial sash and weighty golden chain draped around his neck, and a beautiful woman, her golden monkey daemon perched on the back of her ornately carved chair.

'Ah,' said the small man, his voice light and pleasant, though his expression was one of polite distaste. 'Another hunter, I take it?'

'Lee Scoresby at your service,' said Lee, removing his hat. He nodded politely at the woman. 'Ma'am.'

'I am Alderman Jasper Danvers,' said the man. 'This is Mrs Marisa Coulter. We are assembling a party of huntsman to eliminate the wolves living in Badbury Forest. We need twenty-four men, and we have acquired thirteen. We are dispatching them in small groups at present, to keep the wolves at bay, but are planning a much larger operation when we have sufficient resources. We require experienced hunters, and you will be expected to supply your own rifle. However, we will compensate you for ammunition expended. We hope to commence the main hunt within the next fortnight, once the fairer spring weather sets in.'

Lee nodded. So far, so predictable.

'Rates of pay?' he enquired.

Alderman Danvers named a sum that made even Hester's nose quiver in shock. Lee whistled.

'These must be some wolves you're tangling with,' he remarked. Alderman Danvers sniffed.

'They are… troublesome,' he conceded. 'The wolf population has been growing unchecked in recent years, and they are posing a threat to both humans and livestock. These are not your typical cowardly mutts, Mr Scoresby. They are large, cunning, and vicious beyond belief.'

Lee raised a sceptical eyebrow.

'All due respect, Mr Danvers –'

'Alderman Danvers,' the man interrupted, his lemming-daemon squeaking in annoyance from its vantage-point on his chair arm.

'Yeah, well, in my experience wolves tend not to attack humans 'less they're provoked. Makes me wonder whether it's wolves you're hunting, or if there's something else out there.'

The monkey-daemon stirred, springing from the chair to land on the table, fixing Lee and Hester with a gimlet-eyed glare. Mrs Coulter, whose pleasant, welcoming expression never faltered, laid a hand on the daemon's back, and it subsided, sitting down and staring at the weak sunlight streaming in at the windows, illuminating little more than dust motes.

Lee paid it no mind, for he knew that Hester had her golden eyes trained on the daemon like a gunsight and would see all there was to see.

'It's true, we are taking extreme precautions,' said Mrs Coulter, her voice sweet and caressing. 'These wolves lurking in Badbury Forest are not the same as the animals you may have encountered previously, Mr Scoresby. They display a level of intelligence unprecedented in wild beasts, as well as an inclination to kill for pleasure, not merely for food or self-defence. The safety of this city is at stake, and we are taking no chances.'

Lee nodded, pretending to accept this. He recalled the stories told by the Skraelings and wondered if these vicious wolves were the men-wolves they'd told tall tales about.

'Mind my asking what your role in this is, ma'am?' he queried bluntly. 'No offence, but you don't strike me as the hunting type.'

'Nor am I,' she said graciously, not the slightest bit discomposed. 'I represent certain interested parties, who wish to know why these wolves are so unusual and what might have prompted such… evolution.'

'Can I enquire about these "interested parties" ma'am?' Lee prompted. Mrs Coulter smiled but shook her head.

'I don't mind, but I shall be unable to answer in any great detail. My employer is supporting this venture on conditions of strict anonymity. But I can tell you that they are a great supporter of conservation work, endeavouring to preserve endangered animals, and should it emerge they are supporting a wolf hunt…'

Mrs Coulter finished her sentence with another smile rather than a full stop. Lee regarded her with interest mingled with caution. She was a stunning woman, and Lee was not immune to beauty, but there was a hardness to her features that he found slightly repellent.

'I understand,' Lee answered her, figuring it wouldn't hurt to show agreement. 'I kinda like wolves, myself.'

'As do I,' nodded Mrs Coulter. 'It is a shame this course of action has become necessary. I admire such beautiful beasts.'

'That explains your snow leopard pet,' Alderman Danvers muttered, with the air of a man addressing an old grievance. The smile left Mrs Coulter's face as if it had been cut off, and she gave the Alderman a look that could have etched glass. Even Lee, who was tough as an old buzzard, couldn't suppress a shiver.

'Are you interested in participating or not?' Alderman Danvers demanded of Lee, pale with frustration.

'I'll have to consider,' Lee said affably. 'You're offering good money, but I'm mighty attached to my hide, and I don't know that I want to risk it on this hunt. Good day, Mr Danvers, ma'am.'

He turned on his heel and left, the Magisterium representative almost leaping aside in his haste to open the door. Lee grinned as he heard Alderman Danvers sputtering in indignation. He waited till they were back in the street before he turned to Hester.

'I'm glad you said no,' Hester said without preamble. 'That monkey-daemon gave me the heebie-jeebies. And that woman… "certain interested parties," well, that's a red flag if ever there was one.'

'Something's going on, for certain,' Lee agreed. 'I don't think it's wolves they're hunting out there. It's a cover story for something shady. I vote we steer clear. Come on, let's see if there's a poker game going on somewhere.'

'Here we go again,' Hester said wryly, and Lee laughed as they made their way back to the trading district.

Author's Notes: If you've read this far, I should explain that this story was inspired by the stunning animated film Wolfwalkers (2020) which I managed to watch online as part of the BFI Film Festival. It's the story of a wolf-hunter's daughter in 17th century Ireland who encounters the wolfwalkers of the title, magical beings whose spirits leave their bodies as they sleep and turn into wolves. While still in the blissful haze that comes after watching a superb film, I thought 'I wonder what would happen if people with daemons could be wolfwalkers.' This story arrived, almost fully formed, in my brain and refused to leave until I wrote it down. There's more to come.

Disclaimer: book fans be warned, Lee is going to be a bit OOC in this. I had Lin-Manuel Miranda's portrayal of him in mind throughout my writing and took further inspiration from Philip Pullman's action-packed short story Once Upon a Time in the North. He's younger (I imagined him in his late thirties), more of a rogue and a bit volatile, rather than the grizzled veteran of the books. It just fit what I was aiming for (Hester's still his better half, however).

Further disclaimer: unusually for me, I 'cast' the characters in my head to help me write them. My casting is as follows:

Lee Scoresby - Lin-Manuel Miranda

Mrs Coulter - Ruth Wilson (always and forever)

Alderman Danvers - Tom Hollander

Till next time, dear readers...