Wolfed

1885

*** My whole life I've lived away from humans. ***

*** An early offspring, cast away into the shadows by my parents. ***

*** I've gazed upon them, but they have not gazed upon me. ***

*** I never felt the need to go back to them, not until now. ***

Chapter 3: Abigail?

He collapsed at the edge of the valley. The men could be heard chasing after the fallen Jarz.

'Jarz has led them to the valley! Everyone move out, quickly!' called out Cerberus.

He ran out in front, Lupa behind him, the others started to run too, in a pack line, the stragglers at the back. Mona was at the sides, keeping them in line, while Grey-spirit was at the back, snapping at the cubs.

Cerberus led them through the forest and out onto the grass lands. The peoples came out of the forest and were catching up with them.

'Stupid mutts should have stayed in the forest. Look at 'em Tyler, it's the jackpot.' The older man drew out his gun. 'Don't just stand there boy, pull that trigger.'

Bullets flew through the air. Some missed, but others hit, and Lupa's living pack grew smaller and smaller.

Suddenly, Grey-spirit was hit at the back leg and she crashed to the ground.

'I've got this one dad, it's the one from the hill,' called out the one named Tyler.

Grey-spirit scrambled on her back, gasping for air as she felt her heart failing. He walked slowly, taking his time. He pulled off a brown cap to reveal flopped blond hair and dark grey eyes that looked her up and down with wonder. His gun wasn't fully raised and he seemed unsure about what he was doing. He stood there staring at her until he finally whispered, 'Abigail?'

Grey-spirit growled, somehow threatened by the word. He raised his gun a little higher but not shooting, not yet.

'Grey-spirit!' It was Lupa, she was standing between the two trees that lead back to the valley.

The boy dropped his gun with a loud thank.

'It… it talked,' he gapped, now gazing at Lupa.

Grey-spirit took this chance and limped off to join Lupa and re-enter the forest.

Once Tyler had gotten over his shock he noticed his father on the ground. There was a gash where Lupa's claws had ripped the skin from his ear to his chin, dark red blood gushing out.

'Dad!' he called. He took out a pocket knife, cut off part of his shirt and pushed it hard against his eye.

He hacked up some blood, 'Did you shoot it boy?'

'Well um…'

'Ya didn't did ya. Ya had it right in the bag what happened?' He propped himself on his elbows, rubbing the blood off with Tyler's torn shirt.

'To be perfectly honest, I don't know what happened.'

'Well, we'll get 'em all next time, can't stand the wee devils, won't stop 'til they're all gone. Now, be a good lad and gather the bodies in the cart and we'll take 'em to the market to see how much the fur and meat is worth tomorrow.'

The road back to Tyler's cabin was bumpy and long. He sat at the back of his father's small horse-drawn cart. The smell of rotting flesh and blood filled his nostrils. His legs where pulled tightly to his chest as his memories raced again and again through his head. He tried to picture it in his mind, but he only saw Abigail, his… friend. Why did he see it as her? And what was… it? More questions bit at his consciousness causing him to sink his fingernails into his legs, piercing away the pain.

'You alright back there boy?' he asked looking back at him.

'Yeah,' he said shortly.

'You don't sound too sure about that,' he turned back to concentrate on steering the horse.

'What would you say if…'

'If…'

'If I heard one of the wolves, talk.'

'I'd say you're as mad as a hatter,' he said with a grunt. 'But then again it's the crazy one's who have the most adventurous lives.'

'Thanks for the advice,' he grumbled doubtfully, placing his chin back on his knees.

Tyler lifted the canvas of the cart to see the lush green banks of the little, Missouri river. The wood cabin started to come into view. Lara, the black Friesian, neighed and slowed to a stop. Tyler jumped out and landed with a thud, as dust clouded his feet.

'Hey dad, can I put Lara back?'

'Alright, but be back before sun down and watch out.' He hopped down from the cart and gave his son a pat on the back.

'Can I visit Abigail too?'

'Like I said, be back before sun down.' He went around to the back of the cart and lifted up a pile of dead wolves, one being Jarz.

'Thanks, I will.' He walked up to Lara and padded down her black mane with one hand and unclipped her collar from the cart with the other. She sneezed and bobbed her head up and down. 'Atta girl,' he whispered into her fluffy ears. He grabbed her reins and guided her around the back of the house to the stables.

There were three stalls and only one other horse, a beautiful chestnut called Timber. 'Hey Timber,' he said, saluting Timber. Timber neighed and stomped his hoof in recognition.

He continued to lead Lara on, to the grooming stall. He re-clipped her up to the dangling ropes and turned to the right to the tack room. It was dusty and damp, saddle racks were set up here and there and there was about two meters of hooks dedicated to bridles. At the back behind his father's rusty desk, covered with pieces of leather, a sewing machine, thread and a half made beautiful, black saddle, etched in golden thread, his name, Tyler, was a pile of dandy brushes and body brushes and hoof picks. Just as he picked up a few, he heard a sweet girlish voice drifting through the room, he turned his head slightly, but his back reminded to the door, and saw a sweet pale hand opening the wooden door, 'knock, knock.'