I slunk across the back alleys, hunting a way into the courtyard in front of City Hall where they had chained him. I was in my father’s boots, two pairs of my mother’s leggings, and a flannel shirt that I had tailored a month previous to fit me perfectly. I wore leather gloves I had bought at the market, and dark scarf to act as a hat and cover my face. Only my eyes and eyebrows showed, and I had charcoaled them dark to deter recognition from anyone I might encounter.
The woods might have been my home, but the streets were a foreign world to me altogether. I moved with the utmost caution between buildings, pressing myself against trash heaps and crumbling brick walls in an effort not to draw attention. It was cold with only the flannel shirt, but I was afraid of anything thicker being too heavy and slowing me down. The leather gloves didn’t stretch properly, and I wished I had just used dad’s old ones. I stooped under a piece of sheet metal leaning against the wall to rest. It was cold, and the metal didn’t block me at all from the wind. But I had to keep going. I pressed a hand up against my mouth and exhaled, making my fingers suddenly heat up. I closed them into a fist, capturing the warmth for a few moments, and set off again.
I had been in town enough to recognize where I was from the glimpses I got in the alleyways. I was just south of City Hall, a few more blocks and I would be looking in on Windsor. Where should I angle in from? The front, facing the Hall? To the side? From the back? But I liked the idea of coming from the direction of City hall the most. I remembered a snug little corner that had no buildings; It would provide a great view of the wolf creature. I sprinted, stopping at varying intervals between buildings. If anyone did see me, and tried to train a rifle on me, they would have a tough time. And Windsor was undoubtedly guarded. They just couldn’t leave a werewolf to his own devices.
Finally I pressed against the final wall between me and the courthouse. The grimy brick raked against my frozen back as I peered around.
The Courtyard was a central part of Ajerbae. It had the City Hall, the courthouse, the police headquarters, the stables, and the bank all making one big box. The middle of the courtyard was a circle, a mini-grass park often populated by bored men in need of a cigar. There was a lone White Oak tree planted near the side, its roots digging and displacing the careful brick layout around it. The grass was brown in this time of year, and trampled with its frequent visitors of hooves and feet.
They had chained Windsor to the tree. There were five policemen with rifles that stood around him in an awkward circle. They faced outward, none having the heart to look at their defeated leader. These were the Deputy’s men, the people he entrusted to protect the town. All were officers that had served under Windsor, regardless of how many years they had spent on the force. Two were older men, who probably disliked Windsor with jealousy. It wasn’t every day someone younger than them controlled his own battalion. The three others were young, and probably harbored conflicting thoughts about holding their leader hostage. I spotted one man, about twenty one, who didn’t even bother cradling his gun. He shivered and had his hands folded under his armpits, brow furrowed. I knew what he was thinking, for I was thinking the same thing.
How could this happen? What if he did kill those girls? What if Windsor hadn’t done anything wrong? What if I’m doing something wrong?
They were impossible thoughts. The options hard to believe and harder to pick from.
The two older men were talking on the far side of the yard, throwing glances over their shoulders to the dog. Windsor still wasn’t moving. He lay on his side, and from this distance I couldn’t tell if he was dead or not. Apparently the men couldn’t either, and the gruffer looking of the pair squatted down and picked up a loose stone in the street. He flicked it over to the dog, and it landed near his rump.
“Hey,” the man said, picking up another loose rock, “Hey stupid.” This time it hit the dog on the shoulder. Windsor gave no pretense of life.
The man stood up, and talked quietly with the other. My head spun, what on earth was I going to do now? What could I do? Errr, Stupid! I had only planned as far as getting here. Perhaps I hadn’t thought this out as well as I should have. I ground an icy fist into the side of the building, cursing my incompetence. When I turned back to the scene, the two men were striding towards Windsor. A nasty feeling wriggled in my gut, fear growing like a poisonous vine up my windpipe. One of the men, I couldn’t tell which, nudged Anthony with his boot. Other policemen watched with some potent mix of fear and awe. Their legs switched from alert to awkwardness, leaning on one side. They didn’t know what to make of it.
“Hey.” To which Windsor flicked his ear. “I said hey,” He gently thumped Anthony on the stomach. Windsor raised his head up to the men, as if to ask, ‘what the hell can I do for ya?’
Suddenly the other man moved. A kick was sent flying through the air, so quick I didn’t even see it connect with Windsor’s face. I saw Anthony jerk back, nearly rolled onto his side again, letting out a yelp. The wolf got up unsteadily, and tried to move away from the men but another kick was directed into his stomach. The dog collapsed, a whimper trying to make it through air deprived jaws. I shook my head, this could not be happening. Anthony groaned, and rose again. This time when the kick was sent, there was nothing there. The dog had dodged the blow, and scampered off closer to the tree. This infuriated the men. They called for the help of another police officer. The named man hesitated, unsure where his loyalties were supposed to lie.
“Come-on!” The older man yelled, one word, and snagged the chain up from the ground. He shouted something else, but I was busy inside my own head. I had to fix this; these were people in riot mode. They would kill him if they got the chance. I looked around for inspiration, desperate for the slimmest of ideas. I couldn’t just run out there could I? There were simply too many people… Too many variables. I growled aloud, and kicked the side of the wall. It was hopeless! Meanwhile the men were dragging Windsor by his chain, probably getting off on Anthony’s pain and wails. The brown grass was raked with claws and boots, peeling some of the turf from the ground. The other two policemen still were unsure, and stood watching the scene. Then I cringed. The oldest of the group had turned and wrestled Anthony to the ground, sitting on his back. He hollered for help, to which the men gladly obliged. They crowded in on the wolf so that I could not see what was going on. I didn’t like it one bit and clearly neither did the other policemen, but they were too rife with fear of being called a coward to do anything against the cruelty. I heard gasps for air and yelps. When the policemen pulled away I saw they had fixed his collar to the smallest loop. They were choking him. Anthony wiggled and cried out, trying to pull against the rope but nothing could break the leather.
After a few running starts with the choke collar he stopped. He quickly lost energy to tug the rope and soon had to simply loll against it. A wheezing noise was faintly heard. He was suffocating. If he died like this there would be nothing to suggest foul play. He would die evil. The policemen were enthralled with the scene, and but I wasn’t. With a sudden burst of energy I sprinted out to the yard to the nearest policeman, took his revolver from his hip, and pressed it up against his neck. I threw an arm around him for good measure.
“Nobody move!” I cried out, my voice deep like a man’s.
I was in their sights at once, and my head started to feel light. “What the -,” I heard them gasp as they scrambled with their rifles, and I fired a warning shot under the poor man’s throat.
“I said Nobody Move!” They froze. What now? “I want everybody in a line, in front of me. NOW!” I barked, trying to keep the careful balance of power in my favor. The two older policemen looked downright unhappy about it, but the other two simply looked shocked. How could someone hold a policeman hostage? Wasn’t that against the rules? These men did not know unfairness like I did, or Anthony for that matter. They did not know what it was like to be helpless against the situation. Well now they did. “Quick! In a line!” But they moved no faster and I tightened my grip on the man. He whimpered, and that finally spurred the men into ragged row.
“What do you wan-?” The oldest policeman started to ask, but I barked a ‘shut up’ in my most manly and demanding voice. He made a face. But stayed quiet.
“Drop your revolvers,” I growled. They shifted uncomfortably, not used to being ordered around by a seemingly short man with a hoarse voice. “Drop ’em.” It was two syllables. The other gruff and older policeman started to reach for his, and I knew that I was starting to lose the power. I had to hustle now, or all was lost. I had to break them. Desperation made me a little cagey.
I let the barrel leave the poor man’s throat for a mere second, pointed downward, and shot him in the foot. He howled, nearly shaking me off near his buckle. In the next moment the barrel was back under his chin, re-cocked and ready to go. “I don’t want to take your lives but for God’s sake I will if I have to I won’t think twice!” The words were shouted and no pauses existed between them.
They quickly dropped their guns.
I ushered to the one on the end, the one closest to Windsor, “Take the collar off him.”
It was the youngest policeman, the one with the least amount of faith in Victor’s arrest of Windsor. I saw the fear in his eyes, though his face remained unreadable. He gulped, looked at the policeman I was grasping, nodded, and took two small steps over to Windsor. I dragged my hostage along with me to stand by the wolf, and keep an eye on what the young man was doing. He unbuckled it, slowly, and pulled the leather tongue out of the loop. Anthony gasped as the collar fell away and he could breathe again. The policeman started to stand up.
“Stay down,” I snarled.
He stayed, and Windsor took a couple of deep breaths before trying to get to his feet. The first attempt failed. His legs wobbled and his head fell off to the side, but on the second try he managed to sit up. As Anthony struggled to his feet, and my heart swelled. I wanted to talk to him, to hug him, to apologize, but I of course couldn’t. Windsor’s face was right up next to the young policeman’s, and for the first time terror showed clear as day on young man’s face. His eyes widened painfully and his brow drew together. Windsor merely looked at him with a bored and studying eye, and then looked up at me.
“You can get up now,” I interpreted, barely able to keep the emotion from my voice. My hostage was starting to bleed all over the place; I had to get this ordeal over with. “Now get out of here mutt,” I said. Windsor didn’t move. “I said GIT stupid,” I cried and tried a kick in his direction, but he ignored me. Windsor turned and growled at the police, snarling. If my petty gun couldn’t keep them in line, then Windsor could. His teeth were bared and something that could possibly be mistaken as Bloodlust entered his eyes. His ruff stood up, and again, after that forever ago, I was reminded of the Fable of the Wolf. Anthony certainly seemed as terrible then as in any fairytale. I realized getting him to go was futile, so I started backing out with my hostage. “I don’t want to see any movement!” I threatened, taking careful steps backwards. I didn’t want to rush this man, who was shot in the foot, but then again time was of the essence.
The men watched us go with shock and anger on their silly faces, and I smirked. To think what they would have thought if they discovered it was but a small girl that did this.
It seemed to take forever to reach the edge of the courtyard, the bloody footprints in front of us refusing to grow another three feet. Windsor remained in front of me, pacing back and forth, his great silver legs scissoring over the stony ground. I pondered hitting the policeman over the back of the head with his gun, but being since I had already shot him in the foot I decided that that was too much. When we had gotten far enough, I hissed in his ear, “I’ll be watching you,” and pressed the barrel against the back of his head before walking backwards a little faster, this time without my hostage. When Windsor and I had lost sight of the policemen, still shocked from their apparent robbery of a fugitive, we turned and ran.
I followed Windsor up through the streets. He went through so many turns I would have easily been lost in the town, but he knew where he was going right off.
I trusted the wolf completely, running as two fugitives. He a silver streak and I a scarecrow of hand me-downs. We ran quickly, sliding occasionally across numerous ice patches. The buildings provided us with the perfect shadow cover, and the night couldn’t be bothered with our silent footfalls. As the adrenaline started to wear off, fright from what I just did turned to elation. How could the police actually believe I would shoot them? How could I possibly have shot a man in the toe? Why hadn’t anyone come running when they heard the shots fired? Was everyone in the town completely insane and didn’t bother to check on the guards guarding a werewolf for Godsake? I looked up again for the second time that night, and saw the stars were lesser than what they had been. Not as many spectators remained, morning was near.
“Windsor!” I cried out, and stopped. He pulled up short and turned around, whining incessantly. “Windsor, you have to get out of here,” I said, breathing heavily, I pointed up to the sky. He looked, sneezed and jumped towards me then ran away, stopping a distance from me. “No, I can’t go. I’m slowing you down.” I remembered and stared at the revolver in my hands. I needed to get rid of this. Windsor stared at it too. I heaved a breath, and an ache took up in my calves, firmly eliminating any more running that night. I shook my head.
Windsor seemed to understand finally. He trotted up to me and put his paws on my shoulders, claws dragging slightly on my shirt. His amber eyes were molten and grateful, set in a wide beautiful face. Then he licked the bridge of my nose, welcome warmth in this freezing night air, and took the gun from my hand in his mouth. “Thank you,” I breathed, and the wolf left. He turned and took off down the alleyway, sure of his destination. I hoped he had the good sense to find a cave in the woods tonight to hunker down in. The entire town would be turned upside down in the morning.
I took the scarf off and wiped the charcoal from my eyebrows, checking around to make sure no one was watching. Then I took off the belt around the flannel shirt, wrapped the scarf around my legs like a skirt, and continued on looking much different from a small man. I reached home without further excitement, and the heat from the house made everything on me drip with sudden condensation. My very skin felt soggy with the warmth. As much as I wanted to simply go to bed, I knew I had to get rid of these clothes. I tossed the scarf into the furnace, along with the shirt. I set to work sending the boots to wrack and ruin myself, as they would not burn as a whole. People would surely notice the scent of burning rubber and metal, so I kept the pieces to myself when I tossed in the sole and the heel cloth. I would simply have to bury the rubber and metal. I doubted the leggings would attract much notice, and they were the simple white kind that everyone had. I risked keeping them, but compromising and telling myself to not wear them for a while. I washed my face of any leftover charcoal, and finally around four in the morning went to bed. I could not risk staying in late, not when so many people are up early on Monday, usually including me. I only got about two hours fitful sleep before the sun poured into my window, right on time.
What else can I say when it's already so dang good? I thought you stayed true to Dandy's character and Anthony's as well. Way to go!