The Town of Wolves chapt. 2

(Cont. of Town of Wolves)

I found out the next day at the Monday sewing circle what the men’s plans were, from their wives. Many young girls were out visiting friends, or making social calls. I had no such obligations, so I met with the older women of the town in the sewing circle. It was my weekly dose of gossip, although I did not contribute much.

I was decent at sewing. By no means a professional, but I could hold my own and interested in it enough to constitute joining. Besides, I liked the older women better than the ones of my own of late teens. They had better morals, and they weren’t as exhausting to talk to.

“Oh dear Silvia, I seem to have run out of black thread- may I borrow yours?”

“Well of course Helen, don’t even ask. Anyway, as I was saying, that nice young Deputy is going out to set traps later today in the woods for the wolves. He said he doubted they’d catch any, but it was worth a shot, he said.”

“I thought they decided it wasn’t wolves?” asked Helen, who unwound some thread from Silvia, Victor’s wife.

“But they could not help but acknowledge the fact that there were tracks practically on the body… By the way Dandelion, so sorry about your cousin.”

“Thank you Silvia,” I said, “We will all miss her very much.” Probably more you than I, I mused. Sissy and I were not very close, to say the least. Silvia nodded empathetically. But like a stranger, I pitied Sissy in the way she died only, and for youth lost.

“Victor still doesn’t think it was wolves, but whatever is out there needs to be taken before it can take us,” Silvia nodded around, and we clucked and nodded too, much like hens.

“Poor wolves,” Stacy said, “If they didn’t do anything to the poor girl that is.”

“Of course, of course,” Silvia agreed, and started a new thread. “Stacy dear, how is your cloak coming along?”

“Fine, fine,” Stacy went on to prattle about how she came to choose the cloth for it, which somehow also relative to this morning when she found a dead mouse in the cabinet.

Meanwhile I was thinking. Those poor wolves… It was true their tracks were found at the scene, but couldn’t they’ve just been attracted by the smell of blood? Victor said that it wasn’t a wolf, and I trusted Victor. My mind whirred, and the more spontaneous side of my personality started to think. If that damned Deputy was setting traps, I could very easily spring them. It would be simple; Go out in the woods tonight, follow his enormous horses’ tracks, and spring the traps. I could sneak out and wear my father’s old pants and boots to keep warm even.

By the end of the sewing circle, I was already thinking about where I stored the winter clothes, and how late I should wait before going out that night. There was no way I going to let a stupid man screw with a bunch of innocent wolves. No one deserved to be punished by a righteous ass like Deputy Windsor. I smiled to myself and started a new thread.

*******

I waited until almost all of the lights were out, and then crept out the front door. A scarf was over my face, and a hat my mother had knitted covered my ears. I wore three jackets, two pairs of pants, and two sets of socks with my father’s boots. They were too big for my feet alone, but with all the extra stockings they almost fit perfectly.

Only my eyes showed as I set off into the woods. The deputy would have come into this side of the forest anyway, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find his tracks. The snow was oppressive on my legs as I walked, but the boots kept my feet warm. Almost too warm in fact. I took off the hat, and continued along the line of trees, searching for horse footprints. The snow was still pink from where my cousin had lain butchered in the snow. I avoided the spot with my eyes. How awful her last moments would have been. I took care to stay in the trees. A woman out late at night would not be taken kindly by the people in Ajerbae. Not kindly at all. On the other hand, what could I do? It wasn’t fair for the wolves to die when they didn’t do anything. There!

I scrambled over to a point in the snow where it had been mused by a large horse. They seemed to be overlapping another trail, and I figured it was classic of Windsor to just follow his steps back. Moron could get lost in any bit of wood I suppose.

I set off with the tracks, careful to step in their small gorge in the snow, so my own couldn’t be identified in the morning. The full moon cast enough light so that it was already day with stars, and the trees stood out in stark relief. It was magical, the forest at night. My father used to take me out hunting deer during this time, of course so no one would know about his daughter hunting, but those were good times.

I came across the first trap virtually straight away. It seemed as though Windsor didn’t even bother trying to hide it. He didn’t even wait a while before dumping it in a decent location in the woods. I took a nearby stick that had fallen from the trees and triggered the bear-maw styled trap. It creaked and snapped shut. I went on my way again, content with the fact that I at least had deterred one trapped wolf. The forest started on an incline, and I became warmer still in my many bundles. I lowered the scarf and stopped a minute before continuing up the hill, trying to cool off. The trees were tall and impressive this late in winter. Their bare branches scratched at the sky, trying their luck at capturing stars. The snow was even and hardly marred, except for the occasional bird or squirrel tracks. And, of course, the horse prints. The next trap was easy to spot too, only barely covered by a thin layer of snow brushed over it. I took another branch and snapped that one shut as well. I smiled to myself. I hardly ever felt really contributing to something, and it felt good to finally break out of the painful routine nowadays of stiff corsets and rules.

I continued on.

The gentle hill I had been climbing up now turned steeper, and became harder to follow the horse up the trail. I rested more and more, and began to sweat. Thankfully the next trap was near, but I had to snap that one by hand. But my father had taught me speed. We hadn’t actually trapped in a long time, since my mother started to pity the poor animals. Often we would wrap cloth around the teeth and simply let the bruised animal go. Sometimes we would spring the traps with our own hands as a game, and we got really good at it. My smile was detached, wondering at the memory of my father. This trap had no protective cloth, but still. I punched the trigger, and pulled my hand back. The trap snapped shut a moment latter. I still have it.

I slipped a few times as I marched up the rise, and for the first time I wondered how many traps that stupid Deputy could have set out. Breath became observable in front of me, like smoke. With the cold night’s air I had become a smoker. I had to work myself through a large snow drift, and the hill became steeper still. I concentrated solely on getting up the mountain, planting my feet and using both my hands to help me. How on earth could a horse get up this?

My foot slipped suddenly, and fear raced like electricity up my back. I tried to regain the footing but the frost had set in and everything was slippery and I fell-.

I remember everything flying past me, a magical contrasting blur of white and night. Rocks ground at my knees and my hands just couldn’t get a grip on the earth. I spotted a tree by the path. I rolled over onto my side and met the trunk with both my feet. I suppose in my head I knew something was wrong, but that was when I heard a crinch- of rusty jaws.

I woke up some time later. Where before I had been too hot, sweating, now the sweat had frozen and I was shivering. Pain arced up my leg to my back and into my brain. A rusty-iron taste entered my mouth, like someone had stuck a coin in it. The pain, the pain was so intense. It was cold and hot at the same time, making it hard to keep my eyes open, or even to think. I cried out, but knew no one could hear me this far into the woods. My heart tumbled back down the rest of the hill as I realized I was lost.

I sat there a long while, not thinking much of anything. I was in too much pain, and too cold to think of my chances of surviving. I knew now I had fallen into one of Windsor’s traps. It hurt like crazy, the fact that Windsor would be the one to discover me like this. Like this or dead, as chances went. Either way, he would probably laugh and shake his head at the silly girl. But at that moment though, I would have had his touch than no ones. I dared peek at my leg, and found it bleeding gradually into the snow. My cousin’s hand, the blood carving at the crisp white.

I set my head back, shivering again. The trembling caused even more pain in my legs.

It was unreal. How stupid was I? How stupid? I took a shaky breath and wiped away the moisture that had amassed in the corner of my eyes. This was ridiculous. Everything hurt. Everything was cold.

“Help,” I said feebly to the night sky, knowing nothing would answer.

I gritted my teeth and sat up, nearly blacking out. Carefully I looked around. The downward slope was still steep. The trees leaned precariously on the hillside, keeping themselves carefully balanced. Hopeless. I swallowed, and tried to lift my other leg to brace against the tree. Perhaps this would ease some of the pressure… Ow! Pain raced through that leg and into the other foot. It was like my leg had fallen asleep times a thousand. I couldn’t move any muscle in that limb whatsoever without some pain. This meant no moving the other leg as well. When I sat back, I noticed the cold had seeped into the back of my jacket. My face felt frozen enough to fall off. My toes could still move, though for however long I didn’t know. I pulled my gloves off a bit so that I could make my hands into fists, slowly, and warmed up the tips of my numb fingers. I sniffed.

The growl took me completely by surprise, and I jumped. Once again white hot/cold pain shot through my body, and my heart leaped painfully. My eyes immediately found the source. It was a wolf. An enormous wolf, about twelve hands high. It was lanky and its fur wasn’t as thick as healthy dog’s. Its face was also a bit squat, the nose not reaching the proportion of regular wolves. All at once I gasped, both in pain, perception, and surprise. Perhaps it was a wolf killing, just a very sick one. One that’s not right in its mind, perhaps. I tried to sit up, but the pain was too great. I cursed aloud, and stared into the wolf’s eyes. It stared back, fearless.

“Please don’t eat me,” The plea came from nowhere and seemingly went the same direction.

The wolf didn’t move, just swished its short tail from side to side. Then it began to circle me, watching me just as warily as I watched it. Its long legs made walking a task as simple as breathing. No doubt it could run me down, even with two good legs. Then the legs scissored toward me suddenly, and it growled. I shifted anxiously. Chances are being eaten would be much more painful than freezing to death. Its ochre eyes flashed, then it prowled over to my leg, which was still slowly bleeding. The strange dog sniffed it. I thought about hitting the wolf, to scare it off, but I knew it would do no good.

Something of that size would just retaliate.

The dog took the end of the trap in its jaws, very deliberately, very gently, and squeezed. I realized in an instant it was trying to trigger the release on the trap, the next moment I shrieked. Pain shot up my leg, and the wolf let go. We both knew that any attempts to move the leg were hopeless. The wolf looked at the trap a long time, then it looked at me. It blinked, eyes the color of molten gold shining, and it was gone. Magnificently, regally, it turned and ran down the path, supposedly the way it had come.

“Wait,” I called after it, but the wolf paid no mind. The beautiful creature disappeared down the mountain, a streak of silver. It was beautiful, the way it ran. Not deformed at all, I realized. I lost the dog amongst the black-lighting shapes of tree branches. I sat back, resigning myself to wait and freeze to death, now that I wouldn’t have a companion, or at least a murderer.

I waited only a short while though. I heard gunshots. Pop pop pop, of a revolver, then the whooaar of a shotgun. I looked down the mountain in surprise, hardly daring to believe it. Sure enough, the wolf had returned, with pursuers. I heard shouts of hunters, and the beat of chase-maddened hooves. The wolf was up the mountain and past me in the blink of an eye, disappearing in the shadows that played on the ground. The horsemen, among them the codgers of the town Victor and Sam, stopped about a hundred yards below me. I started to yell, “Hey! HEEYYYY!!!” Desperate and wild with fear that they wouldn’t find me. I saw Victor’s hat turn up toward my direction, was his horse kicked towards me.