Connor and the Wolf

The last frost had gone two weeks prior and soon seeds could be safely planted. It was springtime in the valley and the fields needed to be plowed. Every farm was busy with newborn calves and sheep, and the Darrow farm was no different. In a large field, Connor Darrow reined the two oxen to a stop and looked up at the noon sun. He squinted and turned away, pulling a bandanna from his pocket and wiping his brow. It was almost lunchtime so rather than trying to plow a few more rows he decided to unhook the oxen and water them.

He led them to a trough at the base of a large oak tree and the two beasts submerged their noses in the water. Being warm himself, he leaned over and stuck his head under the cold water, before pulling it out and shaking furiously. The cold water ran down his shirt but he didn't mind; it was refreshing.

"Connor...lunch is ready." His mother called from their nearby cottage. Millie Darrow waved and returned to the cool interior of the small home.

He made his way to the cottage and stepped into its coolness, escaping the hot sun. "I'm so hungry." He pulled a chair back and prepared to sit at the table.

"Oh no, go clean yourself before you get everything around you filthy." His mother scolded him.

He sighed and rose, making his way to the washroom. It took a few minutes to get the dirt out from under his nails but soon he was back at the table. "Better?" He displayed his hands.

"Much but mind your hair doesn't drip on the table." She placed fruit and bread before him. "Eat up and then get back to the field. I want you to finish before your father returns from the village."

"I should be done by tomorrow night, if it doesn't rain."

"Good. You father should be home in three days, maybe four. Hopefully he traded well, or this will be a tough summer."

"I'm sure he did, mother. Our goods are the finest in the valley and everyone knows it."

"Careful child, pride is a sin." She shook her head and sat down across from him.

"Sorry mother." He took a bite of his bread and chewed quietly. His father was away trading honey and winter wheat, beaver, rabbit, deer, and other pelts, as well as some clothing his mother had made during the winter. It wasn't much, but it got them the items they couldn't grow or hunt themselves.

For a few minutes nothing more was spoken, each focusing on the meal. Outside the cottage, a rooster crowed and their bull bellowed from his pasture.

"Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Would it be alright if I go down to the river tonight?"

His mother dropped her knife, and it clanked loudly on the table. "What?"

"The moon is nearly full and I'll be able to hunt any deer that come down to drink, maybe some coons too."

"Connor...no. It is too dangerous." She retrieved her knife and resumed cutting her potato.

"I've gone many times before." He shrugged. "Why should tonight be any different?"

"Connor!" She faced him. "I said no. That is the end of it." She picked up her plate and left the table.

"Yes mother." He looked down and nibbled on his bread. He knew why she had said no, but he still felt wronged. It wasn't his fault those two children had died. Since then, however, his mother was reluctant to let him out of her sight. As far as going out after dark, well, that seemed forbidden these days.

"I'm going to get back to the fields." He left the rest of his lunch and returned to the oxen, standing by the water trough. He hooked them back up to the plow and resumed tilling the field.

His mother sighed and looked out the small window. She hated to be so stern with her son but it was for his own good. The sheriff had placed a voluntary curfew on the entire valley. It was a suggestion, not a rule, though everyone agreed with it and obeyed. Nobody was to be out alone after dark and nobody went into the woods alone. Guards at each end of the main road through the village were doubled.

Not more than three months ago, mid-winter, two sisters had been found dead in the forest, lying right along the main trail. Their throats had been cut and their bodies mutilated. The sheriff said it was the work of a crazed killer, perhaps still hiding in the woods. The village priest, father Thompson, had his doubts. He had examined the bodies and the scene of the attack with the sheriff. He told a different story, when the sheriff wasn't within earshot.

"It was a wolf!" He would say, in a hushed voice. "I saw it's tracks – the likes of which I have never seen before. Like a wolf...but also like a man! And the girls...their flesh was torn, not cut; their bones...SHATTERED! No man could do such things, but mark my words, a werewolf could!" And then he would cross himself.

The sheriff had requested father Thompson keep quiet with is beliefs, as they would only alarm the already edgy villagers. Werewolves were the product of medieval superstition and bedtime stories. No sane man believed in them.

Still, as stories tend to do, the tale grew and so did the fear. Soon there were two wolves, then three. Eventually, the woman who lived at the edge of the village, closest to where the girl's bodies had been found, came into town and revealed she had been hearing strange sounds outside her cabin at night. She recounted hearing growling, scratching, and a most unnatural howling. Of course, nobody else had heard those sounds.

Most of the villagers were convinced she was crazy, so they paid her little attention. Still, the streets were empty at night, save for the bravest of fools. Windows and doors were barred. The only sound in the dark village was the occasional laughter from the inn. When the moon was full, however, even the inn grew quiet, not wanting to attract attention.

"Come on, get moving." Conner clicked his teeth and the Oxen dug their hooves into the dirt. He had heard the tales of course, even as far out from the village as their farm was. It was over half a day's walk to the edge of town, less if you took a horse or cart, but still the stories reached them.

For as long as he could remember, he had played in the forest and swam in the river. Nothing had ever attacked him and he had neither seen nor heard anything unnatural. It wasn't fair. Of course he was sorry the girls had died and their families felt such sorrow, but why should that affect his life?

The plow hit a large stone and lurched to the side, knocking him off balance. He stumbled and fell, the oxen moving ahead. He quickly got up and grabbed the plow handles. Yes, he needed a break from all this. Secretly, he decided to go to the river that night, once his mother was asleep. Perhaps if she found out, and he returned unharmed as usual, she would be more willing to let him go again. Then again, it was more likely if she discovered he had disobeyed her that he would never be allowed outside again.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and as the sun began to go down behind the mountains in the distance, his mother called to him from the cottage.

"Connor! Put them in the barn and come inside. Dinner is almost ready." She looked at the setting sun and then over her shoulder at the moon, just beginning to rise on the horizon. It was large, and would be nearly full tonight.

"Yes mother." He called back to her and pulled the team to a halt. It took almost ten minutes to unhook and lead the oxen to the barn, and then another ten to get the tack off them. By the time he entered the cottage he was damp with perspiration. "Do I have time to rinse off at the well?"

"Aye, but make haste. The moon is coming up." She dipped her ladle into the pot on the hearth and tasted the stew.

"That's ok mother. I'm not shy." He laughed. "If the man in the moon wants to see me naked, I don't mind." He pulled off his boots and shirt, and walked outside, into the dusk.

"Do not mock me boy! Best you be back inside in five minutes or I'll be out there with my switch." She glared at him.

"Yes mother." He called over his shoulder, heading to the well. He stepped onto the stones surrounding the well, their coldness seeping into his toes. He lowered the bucket and brought it back up, overflowing with water, cold water.

Connor removed his pants and looked around the farm. It was true that he wasn't shy, but whenever he was naked outside he always expected someone to come riding up the lane, or step out from behind a large tree and wave. Not seeing anyone, he began to splash water on his arms and legs, rubbing the dirt and sweat from his body. He picked up the washing cloth they kept next to the well and dipped it into the bucket.

He took the time to enjoy his body, feeling his smooth, tight stomach and toned arms and legs. Connor wasn't very large, standing five feet eight inches and weighing one hundred and thirty pounds, but he was pleased with his appearance. He thought he was decent enough looking, though his mother said vanity was a sin. His mother had cut his hair short, as it kept vermin at a minimum, while working the farm around so many animals. He would turn sixteen this summer and, if he had overheard his father correctly, it seemed it was time he began seeking a village girl for companionship.

Connor shook his head and tugged playfully on his penis. It responded by thickening and began to lengthen. He ran his wet fingers between his legs and around his ball sack, tugging gently. He knew it was important to keep himself extra clean in the middle region, and thus spent extra time washing there. As he continued to tug on his penis, his mind wandered to one girl in the village in particular. If he were forced to find a girl to show his affection to, she would do.

"Clare..." He quietly recalled her name. They had been friends since childhood and she had developed into a beautiful young woman. He didn't see her very often, as she lived in the village and he so far away. As he thought about her, possibly undressing in her room by candlelight, her gown sliding to the floor exposing her breasts, his thoughts turned instead to her younger brother Dillon. He was two years younger than Connor, and was by far the cutest boy in town. He imagined Dillon dropping his pants after a long day working outside, guessing what his young body looked like. He smiled, assuming the boy was still smooth and toned. As if agreeing with him, Connor's penis jumped in his fingers and a bead of clear liquid dripped out the end.

"You be quiet!" He gripped his penis and gave it several vigorous tugs. "I don't need you getting me in trouble." He ran his fingers between his cheeks, fingering his tight hole. Of late, he had been wondering what it would be like to be physical with another boy. He had no siblings, so his sexual experiences had all been with himself. He pushed his finger against his hole, the tip slipping inside. His penis twitched again and he gave a happy shudder. Whenever he fingered himself in that manner, it excited him, and he felt incredible. He slowly pushed the finger deeper, trying to find that magic spot...

"Connor!" His mother called from the cottage.

"Almost done." He pulled his finger from his hole and rinsed it in the bucker, before lifting the bucket and pouring the water over his head.

"Now Connor!" She turned and disappeared into the cottage.

He set the bucket down and shook his head, droplets of water flying from his short brown hair in all directions. He pulled his pants on, the material sticking to his wet skin, and walked across the lane towards the house.

"Huh?" He turned back towards the well, peering out into the growing darkness beyond. He had heard something, far off in the woods, down by the river. Had it been a howl? There were wolves in the area, but they rarely came close enough to the farm to be seen.

"God's sake boy! Why are you still standing out there? The sun has gone down!" His mother appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

He was just about to ask if she had heard the sound but then realized he would never be allowed out of the house again is she thought a wolf were in the area. "Coming mother." He followed her into the house.

His mother bolted the door behind them and drew the blinds across the front window. She sat in her rocking chair and wrapped a quilt around her shoulders. "Your dinner is on the table. It may be cold by now; you were outside longer than you needed to be."

Connor took a seat at the table and dipped his spoon into the stew. "I got pretty dirty in the field; I wanted to make sure I was clean before dinner."

"You weren't that dirty, and you know I don't like you out after dark." She wrapped her quilt more tightly around her shoulders. "Put some wood on the hearth, I feel a chill in the air tonight."

"I'm sorry I took so long." He ate another bite of bread and finished his stew. "I think there is a fog coming in." He rose and placed two pieces of wood on the embers, before returning to the table to finish his dinner. When he was done, he carried his plate to the sink and wiped it with a damp cloth.

His mother continued to rock quietly, watching him.

Connor yawned. "I'm all worn out."

"Hard work keeps the mind and body pure. The devil loves a lazy man." She smiled at him. "Why don't you go to bed, you worked hard today. Your father will be pleased."

"Ok, I am tired." He walked over to where she rocked, kissed her cheek, and headed to his room.

"Make certain your window is bolted." His mother called after him.

"Yes mother." He closed his door and lay back on his mattress, a piece of straw poking through the cover and jabbing him in the back. "Ouch." He sat up, pulled the straw through the cover, and tossed it on the wooden floor.

Connor removed his work pants and pulled his soft sleeping clothes off the pillow. He tugged the pants on and slipped the shirt over his head. He turned to his window and looked out across the field, towards the barn. The moon was coming up behind it, its light illuminating the damp grass between the two structures. He pushed his window open and listened to the crickets in the yard and the cows in the barn. Every now and again, he heard one of the sheep bleat, as they settled in for the night.

He lay back on his mattress and closed his eyes. The day had been hard, up at dawn to harness the team and working the fields all day. His shoulders were weary and his legs tired.

Lulled by the sound of the insects outside, Connor slipped into sleep and the night wore on.

Later that night, his mother checked in on him, a candle in hand. Seeing him sleeping on the bed, she smiled and pulled the door closed, unaware he had left his window open.

She checked the bolt on the door and latches on the windows, before retiring to her own room and closing the door. She latched the door, feeling a little guilty she was locking her son out of the room. Truth be told, she hated the nights when her husband was away and wished she knew how to work his rifle.

The moon rose over the small farm, bathing it in a yellow-white light. In the barn, the animals were quiet. Even the crickets seemed to have gone to sleep. A fog began to work its way up from the low lands, down by the river and up through the woods.

In his bed, Connor inhaled sleepily and sat up. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, stretching. He didn't know what time it was but knew it was midnight or later. He rose and looked out the window, seeing the yard bathed in moonlight.

He knew is mother would be very unhappy should she wake and find him gone. He removed his sleeping shirt and pants, and pulled his work clothes back on. He slipped is feet into his boots and laced them. He reached for the rifle next to the door but considered how loud that would be in the still night air. Instead, he felt around under his bed and removed his bow and quiver. He was a good shot with a bow, having brought down many deer over the years.

Quietly, not wanted to wake his mother, he leaned out the window and dropped the bow to the ground. He climbed out and crouched on his hands and feet in the wet grass. With a precautionary glance around the shadowed yard, he moved off in the direction of the river, and the deep woods.

It took him twenty minutes to get to the river, quietly following a well-used game trail. He selected his usual spot between two large trees and waited. It was over an hour before the forest forgot he was there and returned to its normal routine. He saw a raccoon fishing for crayfish in the water, and a mink watching the coon, but no deer. A second hour passed and still no deer came to the river. He would give it one more hour before he had to return home and get some rest. The sun would be up in a few hours and he had to finish plowing the field yet.

Fifteen minutes passed and he heard movement across the river. First a twig snapped, then another. The sound came and went, and his heart beat quicker. Deer didn't usually make such a commotion, though it was difficult to move silently in all the brush. He thought it could be a bear but even they tended to be quieter.

He strained to see in the moonlight and then movement on the river's edge caught his attention. Another, larger raccoon was waddling along the river's edge, dipping its paw into the water to fish around under loose rocks. He sighed, certain now that no deer were in the area. He was just about to stand and take aim at the raccoon when he saw movement, higher up on the bank. It looked like a man, standing up and stretching his arms.

Connor's heart raced, wondering who it was. As he watched, he heard a sudden `thwap' sound and the coon squealed, and then stopped moving on the riverbank. He watched as a man stepped out of the brush, bow in hand, and descended the steep riverbank to retrieve the raccoon. He pulled his arrow from the animal and rinsed the tip it in the river.

Connor sighed. It was just another hunter, probably someone from the village or the farm across the river a few miles. He couldn't see the man's face in the moonlight and fog, so he had no idea who he was. He thought about calling out to him but remembered he wasn't supposed to be out of the house. Better not to be seen, he thought.

The man lifted the dead raccoon and dropped it into a sack. He tossed the sack over his shoulder and turned around, his back to the river. He started to climb the riverbank and then yelled, startled, and fell back into the river, losing his balance.

Connor watched as another man stepped out of the trees and stood on the top of the riverbank. He had not seen anyone like this before. The man had to be nearly six and a half feet tall with very broad shoulders. He was dressed all in black, as far as he could tell.

The man in the water scrambled to get to his feet but not before the man on the riverbank jumped to the water's edge in a single leap. The drop was at least ten feet and equally that far to the water's edge.

Connor wasn't certain but thought he heard a deep growling sound, as the larger man stepped into the water.

The man in the river gained his feet and tried to move further into the river, but he never made it. The man at the water's edge reached out what seemed to be longer than normal arms and slashed frantically at the other man. Connor heard clothing ripping and the man in the river screamed in agonizing pain.

Then, Connor's heart skipped a beat, as the larger man lifted his head back and let lose a deep mournful howl.

With a snarl fiercer than any Connor had ever heard, the man in the river was pulled back to the riverbank and ripped apart. The larger man's arms slashed back and forth across the hunter's torso, sending clothing, blood, and tissue flying in all directions.

Connor put his hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaming. The creature, for he knew now it was no man, pulled the hunter apart and began to eat him. The sounds of ripping tendons and crunching bone filled the previously quiet night.

Slowly, terrified he would make a sound, Connor rose and moved backwards into the forest. He had to force himself not to run, concentrating on each footfall before he put his weight down. Behind him, he continued to hear bones snapping and clothing ripping. Christ, he thought he could even hear chewing.

He was nearly one hundred feet from the river when it happened. He stepped poorly and a loud `snap' echoed through the trees. He stopped, his breath catching in his chest. The river behind him was instantly silent. He listened with all his might, hoping to hear the horrific scene behind him continuing.

Splash! He heard something step into the river. Splash, splash! Two more steps. Something was crossing the river, taking deliberate steps towards him.

His mind recoiled in the realization he had become the hunted. Terrified, he dropped his bow and sprinted up the game trail, towards the cottage. Branches snapped and he was scraped in the face, as he paid no attention to his surroundings. He broke free of the woods and into the grassy meadows around the farm. He stumbled, regained his footing and with a burst of speed, he charged up the hill.

Behind him, something large and hairy sniffed the ground and trees, where he had passed. It growled deeply, dropped to all fours, and sprinted after him. It moved unlike a man, but also unlike a beast. It's longer front arms pulled it forward, while the hind legs propelled it with great strength. It was able to move more quickly than its target and could now see the young human, running up the hill. The boy's scent filled its nostrils and it began to drool as it chased him.

Connor did not turn to look, for he knew the creature was not far behind. He had heard it leave the woods and could now hear it thumping along the grass behind him. Before him, two buildings came into view, illuminated in the moonlight. To the left, his cottage and the small window he would need to climb back through. To the right, the barn, with its thick wooden doors closed to the night.

With no clear reason why, he chose the barn. Seeing the main doors ahead, he mustered his last strength and charged towards them. He reached the door, lifted the board, unhooked the latch, and slipped inside. He pulled the door closed but the latch was on the outside. There was no way to secure the doors from the inside.

Quickly looking around, he grabbed a pitchfork from the wall and gripped it tightly, prongs towards the door. He waited, his breath coming in great gasps. The animals around him regarded him curiously, as they were rarely disturbed at night.

Outside the door, he heard something shuffling in the dirt. The moonlight filtered through the cracks in the barn door and then he saw something block out some of the light. It had stepped up to the door and was standing just on the other side. Against his will, he let out a small gasp. Outside the barn, something growled deeply.

The cows began to shift nervously, moving against each other, seeking protection in the herd. The sheep began to bleat and moved away from the door.

Connor backed up and slipped in a pile of cow dung. He fell backward, landing hard on the ground. He released the pitchfork and grabbed his arm, wincing in pain.

The barn door shook, as the creature slammed into it. Then, he heard the sound of something dragging across the wood as it was moved around the outside of the barn, slowly circling.

The animals turned their heads as the scratching sound continued. Then, all was silent. There were no other ways into the barn as he had earlier secured all the windows for the night.

Connor rose and felt the dampness from the manure on his legs, paying it no attention. He gripped the pitchfork and faced the doors again. He exhaled loudly and shook the chill from his bones.

Behind him, the animals shifted nervously but were otherwise quiet.

An hour passed and he had heard nothing outside. He moved closer to the doors and listened, hearing no sounds from outside the barn. He assumed that whatever it was, it had given up and returned to the river. He reached for the door to push it open and froze, the hair on the back of his neck prickling.

No sounds came from outside the barn. He thought a moment, and then quickly stepped away from the doors. There should be crickets outside, chirping loudly in search of a mate, yet there were none. It was too quiet.

Behind him, a rooster crowed and he jumped with fright. His heart nearly burst from his chest at the sound and he dropped the pitchfork. "Damn it!" He breathed deeply, smelling the barn and animals, and reached to pick up the fork.

BANG, something slammed into the doors again. A deep growl came from the other side and then more scratching on the wood. It had been waiting for him to open the door, pretending to have gone.

Connor fell backwards and scooted away from the door, into the middle of the barn.

A cow snuffled his hair and he felt its rough tongue on his ear. He rose and took strength from the large animals around him. Surely, there had to be some protection among the herd.

He remained amidst the cows for another two hours and then noticed it was getting light outside. Dawn had arrived. Uncertain whether whatever had chased him was still outside, he stepped up to the door and looked through a crack in the wood.

The surrounding area was empty, as much as he could see. He took a deep breath and shoved the barn door open, taking a step backward at the same time, pitchfork raised.

The barn door banged against the side of the barn and the first rays of morning poured into the barn. Behind him, the cows began to move about, eager to get out into the fields. Caring less for their safety than his own, he swatted the bull on its flank and it charged out into the morning. The cows followed happily, and then the sheep.

Nothing attacked the animals so he relaxed and followed them out. He turned back to set the pitchfork against the side of the barn and gasped in shock. Deep scratches were dug into the wood, making their way around most of the barn. The worst were on the door itself. It looked as though someone had taken a wood file and gouged deep ruts into the boards. Having seen the attack at the river and heard the scratches on the wood that night, he knew these were claw marks. But what could do such a thing?

"Connor?" His mother called from the side of the cottage.

"I'm here!" He yelled back, more alarmed than he meant to sound.

"Hurry and put the animals out to pasture. Your breakfast is getting cold." She turned and walked around the cottage and out of sight.

He relaxed, realizing she was safe and none the wiser to what had happened during the night. He took one last look at the scratches on the barn door and headed to the well to clean up before breakfast.

Connor's father placed the spools of wool, leather hides, and animal pelts out for display, next to his wagon.

"Good morning Bryce." The Sherriff walked up to him.

"Hello sheriff." Bryce Darrow shook the other man's hand. `It's been a while."

"How are you doing this spring?" He looked over the items for sale, rubbing the fur on a rabbit pelt.

"Never as well as I'd like, but I'll be fine if I can sell the rest of this lot."

"Well, good to see you in town and I wish you well." The sheriff moved off to the next person at the market and greeted them.

Bryce smoothed some pelts and climbed back into his wagon to have some oatmeal for breakfast.

The morning drew on and he sold a few items. He needed to sell them all to buy items they could not grow themselves on the farm, such as tools, salt, and lamp oil.

By early afternoon, the market had picked up considerably. He was selling more of his goods and it seemed he might sell them all by the end of the day, or the next. If that were the case, he would head home the following morning, just in time to help with the fields.

A man came galloping up the lane at high speed, people jumping clear of his horse. He reined to a halt in the middle of the market and called loudly for the sheriff.

The sheriff waved to him and the two met a short distance from Bryce's wagon.

"I need help, it's an emergency!" The other man was frantic.

"Now just calm down. What has happened." The sheriff raised his hands.

"Sheep, slaughtered in their pen last night. And my brother, he hasn't come home from his hunt!"

"Where was he hunting?"

"Down by the river, behind out fields."

Bryce recognized the man as his neighbor from across the river. He left his wagon and walked over to the two men. "What has happened?" He faced his neighbor.

"Ah Bryce, good to see you." The man shook his hand.

"And you Graham. What is this about your sheep? And Russell is missing?"

"Yes, he went down to the river last night to hunt mink and he hasn't returned." The man continued. "And my sheep, some were torn to pieces in their pen. I never heard a sound."

The sheriff leaned closer to Graham and sniffed. "Have you had much to drink?"

"I had some last night but I'm not drunk, if that's what you are implying!"

"I didn't mean that. I'm wondering if the reason you never heard the sheep is you were passed out during the night." The sheriff gave the other man a stern look.

"Well, that is possible, but what does that have to do with my brother missing? We need to gather a group of men and go looking for him."

"Now calm down, just relax." The sheriff soothed. "I'll get my horse and the two of us will go looking. Do you know were about he was hunting?"

"Yes, I'll take you there. But what about my sheep?"

"People first. Let's find your brother and then we will worry about your livestock."

"Alright, meet me at my place as soon as you can." The man grumbled and got back onto his horse, riding back the way he had come.

The sheriff faced Bryce. "He lives over your way doesn't he?"

"Yes, across the river from my land."

"I don't suppose you'd consider closing up shop for a few hours and helping us look for Russell? You probably know the land as well as anyone and I could use the extra pair of eyes."

"Well, I had hoped to sell everything today and head home tomorrow but this is more important. Let me gather some things and then we can go."

"Excellent, thank you. I'll get my horse and meet you here in a few minutes."

"Fine." Bryce returned to his wagon and began placing his items inside. When they were all loaded, he pulled the canvas flaps down and secured them in place. He bridled one of his horses from the pen where it was feeding and saddled it. In a few minutes, the sheriff arrived and the two men headed off towards Graham's house.

They rode briskly for nearly an hour and approached a farm, set up on a hill. As they neared, they saw the mutilated bodies of several sheep, spread about in their pen.

"What would do this?" Connor's father asked.

"A wolf? Maybe a bear?" The sheriff shrugged.

Graham came out of the farmhouse, a rifle over his shoulder. He mounted his horse and rode up to the two men. "Come on, he was hunting down by the river." He moved off through the fields and towards the forest.

The sheriff nodded. "After you."

The two men dropped into line behind Graham's horse and rode into the forest. They rode for an hour, back and forth along the river, but never found Russell.

It was late afternoon when Bryce said he needed to be heading back to town, to tend to his other horse and the wagon.

"And I need to return as well." The sheriff nodded. "Maybe he got lost or is napping somewhere."

"Russell never gets lost!" Graham sneered. "Something has happened."

"Well we won't find him arguing about it. Come on, let's go back to your place and then we have to return to town."

"Fine!" Graham reined his horse around and turned towards his home.

The three men rode in silence until they neared the farm.

"Who is that?" The sheriff pointed to someone in the pen with the slaughtered sheep.

"It's Russell!" Graham spurred his horse to a gallop and rode up to his brother.

"What the hell happened here?" Russell pointed to the dead sheep.

"Where have you been?" Graham dismounted and walked up to his brother.

"In the woods, hunting. I told you that last night before you hit the ale. You mind telling me why some of our sheep are dead?"

The sheriff reined his horse to a stop. "Are you alright Russell?"

"Or course, never better. What are you doing here?" He nodded to Connor's father. "Bryce, good to see you."

"Same." He nodded at Russell.

"I asked them to help me find you. I thought you would be back this morning. Where have you been? I've been worried to death." Graham fumed.

"I told you, I was out hunting down by the river."

"All last night and today?"

"No, mostly last night."

"So where were you this morning and today?"

"Well, last night I went down to the river. I was approaching my favorite spot to hunt mink when I heard a commotion in the woods a good ways ahead. I snuck up quietly but never did see what made the ruckus. I headed back to look for mink but the woods were dead last night. It's as if all the animals were gone, or hiding. So, anyway, I moved up the river towards town a few miles and then came back through the woods."

"So any idea what happened to our sheep?" Graham pointed again to the carcasses.

"Yeah, I've an idea what did this." Russell spat on the ground.

"You do?" The sheriff nodded.

"Yeah. On my way home this morning, in the woods, I saw the damned largest wolf I've ever seen. Black as the night he was."

"Where was this?" The sheriff asked.

"About half way between here and the village."

"What did you do?" Graham asked.

"What the hell do you think I did? I took a shot at it." He pointed to a rifle leaning against the fence.

"And?" All three men asked at the same time.

"I hit it, but must have just winged it. The beast yelped in pain and turned away, bolting off towards your place." He pointed to Bryce. "I suspect it will die in a day or two, if it hasn't already.

"Well, that answers what happened to your sheep I suppose." The sheriff scratched his head.

"Yeah, I guess so." Graham grumbled. "Too bad you were off playing in the woods instead of at home. You could have saved them." He glared at Russell.

"Too bad you were stone drunk or maybe you would have heard them and saved them." Russell fired back.

"On that note, we need to get back to town before it gets too much later." Let me know if you see the wolf again and I'm sorry about your sheep." The sheriff reined his horse around and headed to the road, Connor's father following.

The arrived in town a little over an hour later and as the market had closed down, Connor's father didn't bother trying to sell anything else.

"I'd like to thank you for helping me today Bryce." The sheriff smiled.

"You are welcome. I'd like to think anyone would do the same for me or my family." He put a feedbag on his horse and stretched.

"You want to head to the inn? My treat." The sheriff grinned.

"That sounds fantastic."

The sheriff tethered his horse and gave it some feed too, then the two men headed to the inn and had a warm dinner.

Connor worked the last of the field and stopped the two oxen. He wiped his face on his bandanna and stuffed it back into his back pocket. The field was plowed and all that remained was to seed the fall wheat crop. That could wait until tomorrow, or the next day, when his father returned home. He looked up at the sun and realized it was later in the day than he had thought. He had worked straight through lunch, ignoring his mother's demands that he stop and have something to eat. He hadn't felt like eating, not since...he shuddered recalling what he had witnessed down at the river.

He walked the team and the plow back to the barn and then unhooked the oxen. He led them to the barn and gave them water and hay. The cows and the sheep gave the larger oxen room and did not try to steal their food. Connor spent some time watering and feeding the rest of the animals and then leaned against a post, more tired than he had felt in a long time.

"Connor?" His mother yelled from the house.

"I'm in the barn." He yelled back.

"Dinner will be ready soon. Go clean up."

"In a bit. I need to finish here first. Did you milk the cows?"

"Yes, this morning. Don't be late." Her voice faded as she moved back inside.

He stretched his arms above his head, his back protesting. "Phew...I need a bath." He sniffed under his arms, the sweat-soaked material smelling strongly. They had a bath in the cottage, but that was for special occasions. No, tonight it would be the well and the washing cloth again.

He sighed, and lowered his arms. The sun was going down so he needed to wash up while it was still light enough to see. He had no intention of being out after dark tonight. He patted the bull on its rump and moved to the barn door. He pulled one of the two doors closed and was just about to step outside and secure the other door, when he thought he heard something moving in the hayloft above. The ladder to the loft was just to his left. He looked up, but all he could see was a small opening leading into total darkness. There was a large door on the second level that could be opened for loading hay, but it was currently closed.

Connor placed one hand on the ladder and his left foot on the lowest rung. Against his better judgment, he wanted to see if anything was in the loft. He took a step up, his right foot resting on the rung next to his left foot. He took a deep breath and reached for the next rung above his head.

"Connor! Now!" His mother yelled from the cottage.

"I'm coming!" He stepped down from the ladder and left the barn, securing the door for the night. He took another look at the deep scratches on the wood and was suddenly glad he had not looked into the dark opening to the loft.

He spent a few minutes cleaning up at the well and then joined his mother for dinner. He was exhausted, not having slept much the previous night, so after dinner he excused himself and went to his room. He changed into his sleeping clothes and lay back on the bed. His eyes wandered to the rifle, propped against the wall by his door and he sat up. The gun was loaded, as you never knew when the opportunity for fresh game would present itself and it made no sense if you had to waste time loading.

He climbed out of bed and picked up the long gun. It was heavy, the kind of weight in your hands that makes you feel you are prepared for anything. He brought the gun back to his bed and laid it down. He went to the window and looked out, towards the barn. The sun had gone down and, just like the previous night, the moon was full and rising behind the barn.

Connor reached under his bed, feeling for his bow and then remembered he had dropped it in the forest last night, by the river. He hated the thought of his good bow lying on the wet ground but there was no way in hell he was going outside now to look for it.

He pushed the window open and felt the cool night air on his face. He noticed a ground fog was again moving up from the river and forest, blanketing the distant fields in a gray haze. Connor moved back to his bed and sat down. He was going to leave the window open tonight, in case anything came near the barn. Part of him warned that he should close the window but the other part deduced that whatever he had seen was too large to fit through the window, without making a lot of noise.

He patted the rifle in bed next to him. If it tried to come into his room, he would kill it. He lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes. Despite his desire to remain awake and listen to the night, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

The door to his room opened and his mother looked in. From the candle lantern she held, she could see him in bed and the glint from the rifle barrel next to him. She was puzzled as to why the gun was in bed but she didn't want to wake him so she didn't try to move it.

The curtains moved slightly, stirred perhaps by a passing breeze. She shook her head and walked to the window, realizing it was open. She looked out at the barn for a moment and then quickly closed and latched the window. She drew the curtains closed and left the room, closing the door behind her. As she had done the previous night, she retired to her own bed and locked herself in for the evening.

In the early hour past midnight, Connor tossed and turned in his bed. He was having a dream, a nightmare. He was back at the river but this time he was not concealed amidst the trees. He was standing at the edge of the water, directly across the river from where the man had been murdered. There was no man this time, but he knew he was not alone. He waited, his breath coming in rapid gasps, as something large and covered with black fur stepped out of the forest and stood across the river facing him. He had his rifle with him. He raised it, took aim, and fired. The sound echoed through the forest but when the smoke cleared, he was alone.

Behind him, a branch broke with a loud snap. He spun around and found himself staring into a pair of softly glowing yellow eyes. They were not human, but neither were they animal. They were something in between. The eyes were attached to some large, hairy man, with long arms; the arms ended in hands with long, sharp claws. He recognized those claws as what had made the marks on the barn door and walls. He backed away from the eyes, trying to see the creature as a whole but it stepped forward, keeping the same distance between them. He stepped back again with a loud snap, as he broke a branch beneath his foot.

In his bed, Connor woke up suddenly, inhaling sharply. He was drenched in sweat and rubbed his eyes. Realizing he had been dreaming, he looked around and saw the rifle lying next to him. He placed a hand on the barrel, its cold steel offering a sense of security.

He looked at his window, expecting to hear the crickets, but it was quiet in the room. He climbed out of bed and pushed the drapes open, realizing his window was closed. No doubt his mother had closed it after he had fallen asleep. He wondered what she would say in the morning, assuming she had seen the gun in bed.

Connor unlatched the window and pushed it outward, the sounds from the night insects filling his ears. He smelled the cool camp of the night and noticed the fog had not made it to the barn yet. It was cooler than last night and he shivered in his damp clothes.

As he listened to the crickets in the grass beneath his window, he became aware of another noise. The cows were restless in the barn; he could hear them stomping the ground. The sheep were noisy too, which was unlike them. He leaned out the window, to hear them better and his heart skipped a beat.

He stared at the barn doors, unable to look away. Someone, or something, was creeping slowly around the side of the barn, approaching the doors. He thought he could just hear the sound of claws on the wood. He strained to see better, the barn being a fair distance away. Yes, something, a very large person, was now standing outside the double doors leading into the barn. He or she was trying to lift the plank and loosen the latch that held the doors closed.

Involuntarily, he gasped and half choked, realizing it was likely the same person he had seen at the river the previous night.

Whether it heard him, or smelled him, whatever was at the barn turned its head towards the cottage and crouched down, blending into the shadows from the plow.

Connor panicked and backed away from the window. He stumbled back onto the bed, landing on the rifle. He felt the metal beneath his leg and moved to the side, lifting the gun in his hands. He turned it towards the window, trying to slow his breathing.

For what seemed like an eternity, he sat on the bed, unable to move toward the window. He wanted to see if whatever it was still crouched by the barn, but he realized if it weren't still there, it could be right outside his window. He had lost track of how long it had been since he had moved.

He sat still, listening with all his concentration, and then he realized the crickets outside his window had gone silent. He heard his heart thumping in his ears and his body trembled with fear. He raised the rifle towards the window, aiming at the middle of the opening.

The grass outside his windows crunched and he heard what he thought was heavy breathing, perhaps slow sniffing. This was followed by a deep growl, barely audible.

By reflex, Connor's thumb moved up and cocked the hammer on the rifle. It made an audible clicking sound in the quiet room.

Outside his window, nothing moved. The nighttime breeze ruffled the curtains and he smelled something, a terrible stench. It smelled like rotting meat and swamp mud. He knew the thing from the river was mere feet away.

He gathered his courage and spoke, quietly. "I have a rifle, pointed at the window. I don't know who or what you are or if you even understand what I'm saying, but so help me God, I will kill you if you try to come in here."

He waited, not hearing anything for a long time.

Eventually, the crickets began chirping again and the curtains moved in the night breeze. He realized he no longer smelled anything unusual. He carefully released the hammer and set the rifle on the bed. He wanted to look out the window but caution, perhaps fear, made him stay on the bed. For the rest of the night, he faced the window, listening to the insects, but they never became silent again, until the dawn.

The first rays of the morning sun crept over the horizon, lighting his room. He sighed and climbed out of bed, placing the rifle next to the door again. So much for a good night's rest.

In the barn, the rooster was crowing and the cows were demanding to be let out to pasture. Connor yawned and opened his door.

His mother was not yet awake so he quietly left the cottage and made his way to the barn. He paused for a moment, trying to determine if any of the gouges in the wood were fresh, but it was impossible to tell. He unlatched the barn and lifted the board they used to secure the doors. Whatever it had been, it had not gotten into the barn.

Connor pulled the doors open, the cows and sheep pushing past him to get out into the pasture. He stepped to the side as the hens rushed past him, eager to catch the crickets from the night before.

"Well excuse me..." He stepped aside as the roost pushed past, crowing at the rising sun.

He entered the barn and began the morning ritual of cleaning up the manure and filling the water trough for the next night. It took about an hour and he was again damp with sweat before he was finished.

He set the pitchfork back in its place on the wall and opened the windows on the opposite side of the barn from the doors. A cool morning breeze blew through the barn, taking with it the stink from the manure and the humidity from the animal's breath during the night. By evening, the barn would be fresh and aired out.

Connor turned to leave the barn and froze, the hair on the back of his neck rising. The ceiling above him had creaked, he was certain of it. If to offer evidence to his fears, a single blade of hay filtered down from between a crack in the boards. Something was definitely in the loft above.

Slowly, avoiding the opening in the floor that lead to the loft, he picked up the pitchfork and made his way to the doors, hugging the wall as he moved. He kept the tines pointed towards the ladder the entire time, until he was out in the warmth of the morning sun.

"What are you doing?" His mother spoke behind him.

Connor jumped with fear and dropped the pitchfork, turning to face his mother. "You frightened me!" He glared at her.

"What in the devil are you doing with the pitchfork, backing out of the barn?" She looked around him but didn't see anything.

He picked up the pitchfork and stuck the tines into the dirt, leaning on the handle. "Nothing. I'm done with my chores and was heading back for breakfast."

"You looked like you expected something to be following you." She sounded worried.

"What? No, I was just..."

"Oh my word! Look at these!" His mother noticed the deep scratches in the wood. "What happened?" She faced him, obviously concerned.

"I saw those the other day. Not sure what made them."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Sorry, didn't seem like a big deal."

She stepped around him, heading for the barn doors. "And the door, look at that!"

"Mother, I'm hungry. Is breakfast ready?"

"What?" She turned to face him. "Oh, yes. I've cooked some eggs and toast." She seemed to forget about the barn almost immediately, as her maternal instincts took over. "Come on, let's get you something to eat."

"Thanks, I'm starving."

"Well, you had better eat it all up because your father will be home today or tomorrow and he love eggs more than either of us." She laughed and led the way back to the cottage.

Connor left the pitchfork sticking in the ground and followed her. He looked over his shoulder at the door to the loft, on the second floor, and then went inside and had his breakfast.

Connor's father opened the canvas sides of the wagon and again spread out his wares. If he sold them all by late noon, he could be home in time for dinner. If not, he would spend one more night in the wagon and leave the next day. He was anxious to get home and see his family. In the back of his mind, he had a nagging feeling that it should be sooner, rather than later.

A woman stopped by his wagon and they began discussing the wool and what he had used to dye it. She ended up buying all of one color and most of another. He smiled, feeling more likely he would be home that evening.

Having some room on a table, now that the wool was sold, he pulled out a large black wolf pelt. He had shot the animal that winter and the hide had turned out beautifully.

Connor finished his breakfast and sat back, muffling a burp. "Thank you mother, that was very good."

"You are welcome. So, what are you going to do today?" She cleaned the plates and set them out to dry.

"I may pull rocks out of the field, or I may walk down to the forest and see if the black berries are blooming."

"Alright but take the rifle with you, in case you see any deer or pheasants."

"Yes, I'll do that." He thought to himself, `or any large, hairy things'.

"If you do get anything for dinner, be sure to clean it well away from the farm. I don't want the blood attracting any coyotes or wolves."

"Of course." He nodded. "Mother?"

"Yes?"

"May I borrow your candle lantern?"

She faced him. "What for?"

"I want to go up in the loft."

"Why?"

"I'm just wondering how much hay we have. Maybe we need more before the winter."

"Winter is more than half a year away Connor. Besides, whether we need more or not, we will cut it this fall regardless. I don't like you going up there with fire."

He sensed she wasn't going to accept that he needed to go into the loft so he dropped the conversation. "I'm going to head out now I guess. I'll be back around lunchtime."

"Ok. Be careful please."

Connor nodded and headed first to his room to get his rifle, then outside, towards the river. He wanted to get his bow. Hopefully it hadn't warped from lying on the wet ground for two nights. It took him a while to locate exactly where he had dropped it, but he found the bow lying in the trees not far from the river. He stooped down to pick it up and noticed an indentation in the soft ground. It looked like a footprint, but the ball of the heel was too deep and the toes too long. He thought he could see claws at the end of the toes, but it was difficult to be certain. Still, whatever had made the print had larger and narrower feet than he did.

He noticed a few more tracks, heading towards the farm, the way he had run two nights prior. He shuddered and looked over his shoulder towards the river. A few birds were flying amidst the trees and the branches gently swayed in the breeze. The forest looked as inviting as ever, but he wasn't in the mood to venture to the river.

Connor head home, back up through the pasture, towards the barn. He knew it was probably just his fears getting the better of him but then again, he felt certain there had been something in the loft. What should he do? His mother had the candle lantern and wouldn't let him have it without a more convincing reason. He didn't want to let her know what had happened, not until his father returned.

He stopped walking, just as he approached the barn doors. Did he dare enter the loft without a light? He felt the weight of the gun in his hand but that did little to comfort him. He would have to either leave it on the ground in the barn or set it into the loft before him. It was too difficult to climb the ladder with it in hand, not to mention he couldn't shoot it from that position.

What could he use for a light source? He dared not take an un-encased candle, not into a room filled with dry hay. That was just asking for a barn fire. There was the large door on the side of the barn, for loading hay, but that was secured from the inside with a board. He would have to climb the ladder, move about ten feet into the loft, and fiddle with the board to open the loading door, all in near total darkness. His rifle would be of little use if he couldn't see to aim it.

While he was deciding what to do, a hen entered the barn, looking for bugs or perhaps grain to eat. She wandered around slowly, near the base of the ladder to the loft.

Connor set his gun against the doorframe and grabbed the hen. He had an idea. He tucked her under his left arm and slowly, quietly, began to climb the ladder to the loft. When he was a foot beneath the opening, he hooked his arm through a run in the ladder and grabbed the hen with both hands. Carefully, not wanting to injure the bird, he tossed her up into the loft.

There was a loud clucking and flapping of wings, and then silence. For a few minutes, he heard nothing. Then, a few pieces of hay fell onto his head and he looked up. The hen was staring down at him, pecking at the edge of the door to the loft. Clearly, she was trying to figure out how to get back down.

He smiled and shook his head. If there were something up there, and it had a taste for meat, it should have attacked the hen. She didn't seem the least bit concerned to be up there in the darkness. Connor reached up and gently lifted the hen back down, dropping her to the floor. She squawked once and resumed pecking in the dirt, before making her way to the nest boxes in the corner of the barn.

Connor climbed back down and retrieved the pitchfork, from where it was still stuck in the ground outside the barn. He returned to the ladder and began to climb, slowly. When he was head level with the opening, he stuck the tines through and prodded into the darkness.

The fork didn't strike anything so he knew at least that area was hopefully void of monsters. He took a deep breath, said a prayer, and quickly climbed into the loft. He moved a foot away from the opening, so he wouldn't fall through by accident, yet was close enough to jump down, should he need to. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light as he used his ears to listen for any sounds of movement. All was quiet. He kept the pitchfork in front of him, moving it from side to side.

As his eyes adjusted, he noticed slender rays of sunlight, filtering in through cracks in the walls. After standing still for several minutes, it was enough to see his way along the wall to the large door. He quickly unlatched it and swung it outwards. The door banged loudly against the side of the barn and he squinted, blinded by the bright sunlight.

He shielded his eyes and turned back towards the inside of the barn. The loft was brightly lit now and he could see all the bales of hay, stacked neatly in rows. In the bright afternoon light, the loft looked friendly and inviting; hardly the place where something could be laying in wait.

Connor set the fork against the outer wall and moved over to the section of the loft that had been directly above him, when he had heard the floor creek. There was a small door in the floor that could be lifted to drop hay to the animals beneath, but it was closed and under a few inches of hay. He squatted down to examine the door and froze. His hand was touching something cold and damp. He lifted his fingers to examine them and, even though the light wasn't as bright in this part of the loft, he could see they glistened with blood.

He rubbed his fingers together and felt the blood smear between them. It wasn't fresh, but it wasn't that old either. Slowly, not wanting to appear alarmed, he backed away towards the open door in the side of the barn, and the pitchfork he had left there.

Absent mindedly, he wiped his hand on his pants before picking up the fork. He took a deep breath, placed his feet shoulder width apart for balance.

"I know you are up here." His voice was calm but his hands trembled.

Nobody answered him. He took a few tentative steps towards where he had found the blood. "I'm not going to leave until you come out." He wondered if whatever he had seen the two prior nights could only venture out in darkness. Perhaps the sunlight would hurt it. While that was a possibility, there was no way in hell he was going to close the side door. The last thing he wanted was to be in the dark again and have to make his way to the ladder. No, he would find some way to close the door from the outside, or wait for his father to come home and help him.

His father...he thought a moment. He was certainly going to see the scratches in the barn doors, as well as the blood in the hay. Connor knew he would have some explaining to do, not to mention the trouble he was likely to be in for going out at midnight, after his mother had specifically forbidden it.

"We can spend all day, pretending you aren't here, but my father will be home tonight and he will find you." He considered for a moment just what he would do, should the huge creature from the river actually be up there with him. It seemed unlikely that such a monster could climb into the loft, when it was unable to open a barn door. Yet...there was the matter of the blood.

Connor froze, gripping the pitchfork tightly. He had heard something, or at least thought he had. It was just in front of him, in the darkness beyond the edge of the light that shone through the doorway. There were a few tumbled bales of hay and whatever he had heard was behind them.

He took a step closer, stopping again when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. "Come on, show yourself!" He raised his voice and gripped the pitchfork even more tightly. His hands were tired and sweat dripped into his eyes, causing them to sting.

Something rose up amidst the shadows. He pointed the pitchfork in that direction and took a step backwards towards the light. "I see you..." His voice was hardly more than a whisper, and it was shaking.

Whatever it was, it stepped around the bale of hay and followed him towards the light. It made no sound, other than a deep, raspy breathing, but it was there, moving closer to him with each step.

Connor backed into the sunlight, feeling its warmth on his damp clothing. In his fear, he had soaked his shirt with sweat and it clung to his chest and back.

He could see the thing now, it was almost upon him...except...it was smaller than he remembered; nearly the same size as himself, perhaps a little shorter. Connor lowered the tines to the ground and let the handle rest against the side of the barn. He realized this was not the creature he had seen the other night, it couldn't be. "Who are you?"

Something lurched forward, stumbling into the sunlight.

Connor gasped, reached both arms outward, and caught the body of a naked boy, before he collapsed on the hayloft floor. The boy's skin was cold and his breath was coming in short gasps.

"It's alright, I've got you." Conner held the boy and slowly lowered them both to the floor.

The boy rolled away onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, not looking at anything in particular. He coughed a few times and winced in apparent pain, placing his hand over the right side of his abdomen.

"Are you alright? What are you doing up here?" Connor took a moment to look at the boy, now that he was lying down.

He had short black hair, fair skin, and the most unusual eyes. They were a dark yellow color, not quite brown, more amber.

Connor smiled and nodded encouragingly. "It's ok. Nobody is going to hurt you. Can you speak? What is your name?" He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, noticing again how cold his skin felt. "My name is Connor."

The boy turned his head. "Aiden." He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, slipping into unconsciousness.

When the boy passed out, his hand slid off to the side, exposing a bloody wound. No doubt, this is where the blood in the hay had come from.

Connor felt the boy's head and detected no fever, but he still needed to get him medical attention. Carefully, not knowing the extent of his injuries and not wishing to cause him more, he moved the boy to the edge of the ladder, and then climbed down. He couldn't carry the boy down, not without the risk of dropping him. It would be too difficult to pull him through the opening and support his weight. He sighed, there was nothing to do but get his mother to help.

He ran to the cottage and pulled open the door.

Inside, his mother jumped in fear, setting down the knitting she was working on. "Lord's sake boy! You gave me a start!"

"I'm sorry mother. It's an emergency." He was panting from running.

"What is? Are you hurt?" She stood and quickly examined him for injuries.

"No, not me." Connor pulled away. "He...that is, I found someone in the barn. He's hurt."

"What? Who is in our barn and why?"

"I don't know. He told me his name and then he fainted. Please mother. He's in the loft and I can't get him down myself. I need your help!"

"Yes, of course." She wiped her hands on her apron. "Well go on boy! I'll follow."

They left the cottage and hurried back to the barn. Connor quickly climbed the ladder and saw Aiden lying where he had left him.

"I'll lower him down through the opening. You need to support his weight as best you can until I can get down there." He moved the boy to the opening and slid his legs through.

"Connor...he is naked."

"Yes, I know." Connor gently lowered him until his mother was able to grab the boy's legs and support him.

"Please hurry. I won't be able to hold him if he slips." She cautioned.

Still holding the boy's arms, Connor had an idea. "A moment longer mother. I have a plan."

"What?" She called up, having trouble hearing him when he moved away from the opening.

Connor did not respond. He laid Aiden down on his back and searched in the loose hay on the floor, finding a piece of bailing twine. Quickly, before his mother lost her grip, he tied the boy's wrists together.

"I'm coming down now. Hold him a moment longer." Conner maneuvered around Aiden's limp body and placed his feet on the ladder, several rungs below the opening. He lifted Aiden's arms and draped his bound hands behind his neck and stepped fully onto the ladder. As he did, he felt a great weight, as Aiden's body was lifted to a sitting position by his hands around Connor's neck.

"Move out of the way mother!" He called down and saw her step back. "Oh!" He climbed up one rung and felt a sudden increase in weight, as the boy's entire weight was suspended by his bound hands around Connor's neck.

In that position, Aiden's naked body was pulled tightly against Connor's, his cheek resting on Connor's chest. He looked down and bumped his nose on the boy's head, detecting a pleasant scent form his hair. "Here we come." He slowly descended the ladder, the combined weight almost more than his own arms and legs could support.

After less time than it seemed, Connor's feet touched the dirt of the barn floor. He released the ladder and took a step back, realizing too late that he was unbalanced.

Connor fell backwards, onto the ground, the boy's limp body landing on top of his, knocking the wind from his lungs. For a moment, he lay still, trying to catch his breath.

"Oh dear, are you alright?" His mother leaned closer.

"Yes. Give me a moment." Connor carefully rolled over, so he was now on top of Aiden. He slid down the boy's naked body, pulling his head free from his bound wrists. In that position, his face was hovering above Aiden's groin. He looked down, seeing the boy's abdomen and penis, inches from his face. He was breathing heavily from the exertion and could smell the boy's sweat and musk. He was surprised to discover the boy had a nice scent, as he had expected otherwise. In an unexpected reaction, he felt his own groin stir and his heart rate quicken. He had the urge to press his nose closer and take a good sniff but he mother was hovering above them. He buried the sudden lustful thoughts deep down, as they would only serve to get him into trouble.

"Be careful Connor. He might be sick!" His mother cautioned. "He is very pale."

Connor placed his hands on either side of Aiden and pushed himself up. "No, I don't think he is. He has a wound on his side...there." He pointed to the small hole in Aiden's abdomen. I think he has lost a lot of blood.

"What happened to him? How did he get in the loft?

"I don't know. We need to take him inside." He wiped his hands on his pants, next to the blood stain on his leg.

"Oh dear. Are you hurt?" His mother also saw the blood.

"No, that is his blood."

"You need to wash those clothes right away. I don't want you getting sick."

"I won't. I'm going to carry him inside."

"Is that a good idea?" She looked concerned.

"Well I can't just leave him here, lying in the dirt, bleeding."

"No, of course not. Alright. Take him inside and I'll see about cleaning up that wound."

Connor nodded and picked Aiden off the ground. It was no small feat as they were almost the same size.

His mother moved aside and then left the barn, heading towards the cottage.

Conner struggled with under the weight but eventually made it to the cottage. He carried Aiden into his bedroom and laid him gently on the bed.

His mother came in, carrying a pan of warm water and a cloth. "I'll start cleaning him. Can you get him something to wear? I don't like how cold he looks."

Connor looked at the boy's body again, confirming they were nearly identical in size. He couldn't help himself and allowed his gaze to linger on Aiden's groin.

"Connor! What are you doing? Get him some clothing, or at least a blanket!" His mother glared.

He nodded and grabbed the closest clothing on hand, his sleeping pants and shirt. "Here, these will do I guess."

His mother finished washing the wound and put a dressing on it to keep it clean. She helped Connor put the clothes on Aiden and then took the water and cloth to the sink.

Connor placed his pillow under the boy's head, trying to make him as comfortable as possible. He reached down and adjusted his own penis, which had become partially erect during the contact with the boy's naked body. Then, he joined his mother.

She was hanging the pot on a hook in the ceiling and turned to face him. "Alright, tell me what happened. How did you find him there?"

"When I was letting the animals out this morning, I thought I heard something in the loft. I wasn't sure and didn't want to look so I didn't."

"So you WERE afraid of something this morning, when you were backing out of the barn with the pitchfork. You lied to me." She placed her hands on her hips.

"I don't know, maybe I was afraid. Anyway, I went back later and climbed into the loft. I opened the loading door and found him there."

"Was he unconscious?"

"Not at first. He didn't say anything, well other than his name, before he passed out."

"What is his name?"

"Aiden." Connor smiled, liking the name.

"Hmm...I don't know of anyone from the village with that name. When your father returns home we will have to send for the sheriff. I'm sure the boy's parents are worried sick about him."

Connor wondered if he should mention the creature from the river but decided his mother would only be angrier with him. "I'll keep an eye on him tonight. Maybe he will wake up and we can talk to him."

"Are you going to leave him on your bed?" She frowned.

"Yes. Is that alright?"

"I suppose so, just be careful. You don't know anything about him and I'm still not convinced he isn't sick. I don't want you getting sick too."

"I'll be careful."

"Well, let's get something for lunch and then you can go check on the animals. The cows need milking and please gather some eggs." She began preparing bread and cheese for them while Connor sat at the table.

After lunch, he went into the field and made sure the animals were all doing well. He made a few trips between the well and main watering trough in the field, by the oak tree. Then, he returned to the barn and secured the loading door in the loft. He hung the pitchfork on the wall next to the main door. He gathered a few eggs and placed them in a basket, and then picked up a bucket to milk the cows in the pasture. It took him nearly two hours but eventually he returned to the cottage.

His mother was sitting in her rocking chair knitting. "Everything alright?" She looked up when he entered.

"Yes. I closed the loft door too." He put the milk and eggs on the counter.

"Good."

"Did he wake?" Connor nodded towards his room.

"No. I checked on him once but he hasn't moved."

"I'm tired. If it's ok I'm going to take a nap." He rolled his shoulders and stretched.

"Do you want to lie on my bed?"

"No, I'll just lay next to him. That way, if he wakes up he won't panic when he isn't in the loft. Hopefully he remembers me." Connor felt his penis twitch when he said he would lay next to Aiden. He tried not to smile.

She held his gaze for a moment and then nodded. "Alright, just be careful and try not to get too close."

"Wake me when it's dinner time please."

"I will." She resumed knitting.

Connor returned to his room and closed the door part way. He wanted to close it fully but thought his mother might worry. He felt his pulse racing and looked down at Aiden, asleep in the bed. Connor guessed Aiden was only a year younger than himself, if that. He focused on the boy's face, admiring his small nose and tight lips. His pulse jumped again and Connor couldn't help smiling. The boy was very cute and looked peaceful wearing Connor's clothes, lying in his bed. His penis stirred and he gently rubbed himself. Things could be worse, he thought.

Feeling very tired, he yawned and removed his shirt, which was still damp with sweat, and set it on the foot of the bed. It wasn't too chilly in the room so he didn't bother putting on a clean shirt. He stretched out next to Aiden, their legs touching, and spoke quietly to the unconscious boy.

"Don't be afraid Aiden. You are safe." He closed his eyes and relaxed. As tired as he was, it was only a matter of minutes before he was sleeping.

After an hour, his mother checked on him. She carefully opened the door and saw the two boys lying next to each other in bed. Connor had draped his right arm over his eyes and was breathing deeply. His left hand was resting on the boy's arm.

She smiled softly, seeing them together. Many times Connor had admitted he wished he had a brother, but Millie had endured great difficulty with his birth, nearly dying, and the doctor had advised against having more children. She pulled the door fully closed and began giving thought to the evening meal.

Connor's father began loading his wares into the wagon for the evening. He had almost sold everything and would try to sell the rest by noon the next day. Whether he did or not, he would be heading home, as he missed his wife and son. He hoped Connor had been hard at work in the fields and they were ready to be planted.

"Excuse me." A man spoke to him from behind.

Bryce turned around and nearly collided with a stranger, standing very close to the wagon. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there."

"Where did you get that wolf pelt?" He motioned to the pelt on the table. It was the last item to be stored away for the night.

"I shot the wolf myself, this past winter. Would you like to see it?"

"Please." The man held out his hand.

Bryce handed him the pelt and stepped back a pace. He didn't wish be rude to a potential customer but the man smelled dirty; as if he had been skinning an animal recently and not cleaned himself afterwards.

"This is beautiful. It must have been a magnificent animal."

"Thank you. Yes, it was a large male." Bryce nodded.

"Where did you kill it?" The man kept fingering the pelt and lifted it to his nose, sniffing deeply.

"On my land. I assumed it was hungry and I didn't want it eating my livestock."

"Wolves are always seeking their next meal." The man held Bryce's eyes. "They are opportunistic, taking prey whenever they can.

There was something about the man that made Connor's father uneasy. His eyes; they seemed different somehow. "Do you wish to purchase the pelt?"

The man handed the wolf pelt back. "No, I have no use for such things." He looked at the wagon and then back at Connor's father. "You do not live in this village."

"No, I live on a farm outside of town. Why?"

"Just an observation. Most of the others have permanent shops and I noticed your wagon."

"I only come here twice a year to trade." He turned around, put the wolf pelt into the wagon, and lowered the canvas side. "Are you new in town? I don't think I've seen you before" He turned back around.

The man was gone. For a moment, Bryce looked up and down the street, but he was nowhere to be seen. Slightly unnerved by the encounter, he locked the door on the wagon and made his way to the inn for a warm dinner and the company of friends.

Connor felt something on his hand and opened his eyes. The room was dim, the sun having set. A pale light was filtering in through his small window, the moon. He lifted his hand and felt something slide off it. He turned his head to the side and found himself staring into Aiden's very alert eyes.

"Oh, you're awake. How do you feel?" He kept his voice low, so as not to alert his mother that they were no longer sleeping.

"Where am I?" Aiden asked quietly.

"You are in our home, my room specifically. Do you remember me? I found you in our hayloft this afternoon."

"I remember you." He placed his hand on his abdomen. "I am bandaged?" He turned his head and stared up at the ceiling.

"Yes, my mother has cleaned and dressed your wound."

"I have clothes on." He felt the material on his chest and legs.

Connor smiled but the boy couldn't see it. "Yes, I dressed you in my clothes when I put you in bed. You were cold."

"Your clothes." He repeated what he had been told.

"Yes, I hope that doesn't upset you. I never thought to check the hayloft for any of your own."

Aiden turned back to face him. "I like your clothes, they're soft. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like them, but I must apologize as they are not clean. I have not had a chance to wash them." Connor again felt his penis swelling. He was puzzled by his reaction to being so close to the boy. He knew his feelings were sinful and he should be ashamed of them, but they felt good and he was glad to be lying next to Aiden.

"Thank you for helping me." Aiden sat up and winced, his hand again covering his abdomen.

"You should lie still and rest. My mother is making dinner and it should be ready soon."

Aiden gritted his teeth and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I have to leave."

Connor climbed out of bed and walked to the other side. "What? No, you can't."

"Why not?" Aiden seemed to tense up.

"I mean of course you are free to go whenever you wish but you should stay here and rest."

"I...it is too dangerous." He gently lifted the sleeping shirt and began to undress.

Connor felt his penis stir to life again at the sight of the boy's smooth chest. He reached out and pulled the shirt back down, his fingers brushing against Aiden's sides. "Please, I want you to stay. Besides, you can't go outside naked."

Aiden hung his head and sighed. "Alright, but just for tonight." He moved over to the window and looked at the moon, rising behind the barn.

Connor stood next to him, their arms gently brushing together. He knew it was wrong to keep touching Aiden, but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't realized how much he wanted the companionship of another boy his age, until now. "The moon will be full tonight. It sure is beautiful."

Aiden turned and faced Connor, his eyes reflecting the moonlight with a pale yellow glow. "Yes, it is."

They stood there for a minute, their faces mere inches apart, each hearing the other's breathing. Connor's pulse was racing and his penis was cramped in his pants, aching to be freed or at least adjusted to a more comfortable position. He hadn't felt these strong of emotions for anyone before, and they puzzled him.

Aiden timidly reached his hands forward and took Connor's. "Thank you."

Connor felt the other boy's hands and gripped them in return. "Of course." He was beginning to tremble and was certain Aiden would notice. What was wrong with him? He had the overwhelming desire to lean forward and kiss Aiden on the mouth but that was wrong.

There was a knock on the door and both boy's released the other's hands and stepped back a pace. The door opened and light filtered into the room. His mother had the candle lantern and stepped into the room.

"Oh, you are both awake!" She stepped up to Connor and held the lantern between them.

Connor nodded. "We just woke up."

"What are you doing by the window?" She sounded concerned.

"Just looking at the moon."

"Is our guest hungry?" She looked at Aiden.

He nodded. "I am." His voice was calm.

"Well dinner is ready and on the table." She turned and walked out of the room, plunging it back into a dimness lit only by the moon.

Connor took a few steps after here and turned around when he realized he was walking alone. "Aiden? Are you coming?" He retrieved his slightly damp shirt from the foot of the bed and pulled it over his head.

Aiden was looking out the window again, staring at the moon. "Yes." He turned and followed Connor.

The boys took a seat on a bench along the wall, Connor's mother sitting across from them.

"I made beef stew and we have corn and peas. There is bread too, if you would like some." She served herself and then passed the ladle to Connor.

"Here, let me fill your plate." He served Aiden and then himself. "We have fresh milk too, or you can have water."

"Milk please." Aiden answered softly.

"I'll get us both some." Connor left the table and returned with two glasses of milk. He sat down again and continued his meal.

During the meal, his mother was quiet, observing Aiden with a watchful gaze. On several occasions, he would look up, meeting her stare with his pale yellow eyes, and then look away and continue eating.

Connor chewed happily on a piece of bread, dipping it into his stew. "I suspect father will be home tomorrow." He smiled.

"Yes, it will be good to have him back." She kept her eyes on her plate.

Connor turned to Aiden. "When he gets home, we can all sit down and talk, I mean, if you want to. You'll like my father, he is very kind."

Aiden didn't answer, but he did nod slightly. He shifted his foot and his leg made contact with Connor's.

Connor felt the contact and smiled. He continued eating and soon the meal was over.

"Please clear the table and wash the dishes." His mother rose and set her plate on the counter by the washbasin. She placed two small logs on the hearth and took up her customary spot in the rocking chair. With knitting needles in hand, she resumed the sweater she was making.

Aiden remained at the table for a few minutes, while Connor cleared the plates and cutlery. He looked at Connor's mother, rocking quietly, and found her gaze upon him. Slowly, his side a bit sore, he rose and approached her.

"I want to thank you for tending to my wound and offering me shelter in your home."

She nodded. "You are welcome. How do you feel?"

"Much better."

"That's good. I suspect you will want to be on your way soon and get back to your family. They must be worried sick about you." She held his gaze.

"Yes, I should leave as soon as possible." He looked down at his feet for a moment. "I don't want to cause any trouble for you."

Although she had a nagging feeling that something was different about Aiden, his words struck a nerve and she softened. "There now, you aren't any trouble for us. I want to see you fully healed before you leave here, and I know Connor does too."

Aiden lifted his face to hers. "He is very kind. I really like him."

"Why don't you see if he needs any help with the dishes." Millie smiled and motioned towards the washbasin with her head. "Go on now."

Aiden nodded and made his way across the room, standing next to Connor. "Do you need help?"

Connor faced him and smiled. "Well I'm almost done now but you can dry if you would like. There is a towel over there." He pointed to a towel, folded on the counter.

"Sure." Aiden helped Connor dry the dishes and put them away. When they were finished, he yawned. "I'm tired."

"Me too." Connor nodded. "We can go to bed if you want."

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Aiden asked quietly.

Connor felt his penis jump again, for about the hundredth time that evening. He had developed a damp spot in his pants and he hoped nobody had noticed. He lowered his voice and answered. "If you want me to."

Aiden nodded but didn't answer. He extended a finger towards Connor, it was shaking slightly.

Connor also stuck out a finger, touching Aiden. His pulse spiked when they contacted, and he smiled.

"Are you boys finished washing the dishes?" His mother called out from across the room.

Connor immediately dropped his hand and turned to face her. "Just finished."

"Good. Do you want to come sit by the hearth for a while and relax?"

"No, I'm pretty tired still and I bet Aiden is too. I guess we will go to bed a bit early, if that's ok."

"So soon?" She sounded suspicious. "Well, if you're that tired..."

"Yes mother, we are." Connor put his hands on his hips. "Or do you need help with something?"

"No dear, if you're tired then go to bed."

He nodded and turned to Aiden. "Come on." He picked up a candle and let the way into his dark room.

"Leave the door open please." His mother called after them.

Connor sighed and closed the door only halfway, after Aiden followed him inside. He placed the candle on the table next to the bed and removed his shirt. He draped it over the back of a chair and turned to find Aiden staring at him from across the bed, his yellow eyes reflecting the candle light softly.

"Are you warm enough?" Connor sat on the bed and swung his feet up.

"Yes." Aiden nodded and also climbed into bed. He rolled onto his side so he could watch Connor.

"I usually sleep with pants and a shirt on but that one is still a little damp from this afternoon. It will be dry by tomorrow."

"Would you like these back?" Aiden asked quietly, pulling the shirt off his chest a few inches.

"No, you can keep wearing them. If I get cold I'll just wrap up in the blanket." He lay back on the pillow and folded his hands behind his head.

"If you get cold during the night, lean against me." Aiden whispered, his eyes fixed on Connor.

"You wouldn't mind?" Connor turned his face and met Aiden's intense gaze.

"No."

"Thanks." Connor smiled. He lowered his hands and pulled the blanket up to his neck. "I'm kind of cold right now, actually."

Aiden smiled and moved closer. "I thought you might be. You've been shivering most of the evening."

Connor laughed uneasily. "I hoped you wouldn't notice."

"It was hard not to, I was touching you most of the meal." Aiden reached forward, under the blanket, and placed ran his hand on Connor's arm.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked quietly.

"Nothing." Aiden began to slowly move his hand up and down Connor's arm. "Are you cold?"

"Not really. Why?"

"You are trembling again." Aiden smiled.

Connor looked at the other boy's eyes, seeing the dim light from the moon and candle reflected in them. "I wasn't trembling earlier because I was cold." He whispered, his voice shaking.

Aiden gripped Connor's hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. "I know." He rolled onto his back and sighed, closing his eyes.

Connor's pulse was racing and he could hear his heart thumping loudly in his ears. His penis was rock hard in his pants and he felt the wet spot growing. He turned onto his back and tried to calm himself. Was Aiden aware Connor had lustful feelings toward him?

For an hour, the room was silent. Connor leaned over and blew out the candle, before climbing back under the blanket. Aiden's breathing had slowed, suggesting he was sleeping. He listened to the other boy's breathing for another hour, but was unable to sleep himself.

The moonlight filtered in through the open curtains, lighting the room with as soft glow. Carefully, so as not to wake Aiden, Connor climbed out of bed and went to the window. He glanced towards his partially open door but the main room was dark. His mother must have gone to bed without checking on them. He thought she was acting a bit strange but assumed it was because she was concerned about Aiden's injury and didn't want to risk waking him.

He gently pushed open his window, letting the cool dampness of the night into the room. He listened to the crickets, and other night insects. The barn was quiet, the animals resting peacefully.

As usual, there was a fog rolling up from the river, towards the cottage and barn. The moon was almost directly overhead and the yard was well lit.

For some time, he watched the barn, expecting to see the creature from the river but all was still and quiet. Assuming it was not going to come back that night, he pulled the window closed and latched it. He turned around, colliding with Aiden. The boy had been standing behind him, unmoving.

"Aiden, I didn't know you were awake." Connor took a step backwards.

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes, especially when the moon is full." Aiden took a step forward, his eyes reflecting the moonlight with a yellow glow.

"Are you feeling alright?" Connor felt his back bump into the windowsill.

"Yes." Aiden took another step closer, his hand brushing against Connor's thigh, and turned to look out the window. "Are you looking for something or someone out there?" His voice was low.

Connor also turned to look out the window, his hand brushing against Aiden's hand. "I was but I don't think it's coming tonight." He felt Aiden's hand close around his own, their fingers intertwined.

"No, it isn't out there now."

Connor faced Aiden. "Do you know what it is?" He was breathing heavily but wasn't sure whether that was out of fear or arousal from holding Aiden's hand.

"Yes." Aiden whispered.

"What is it?"

Aiden released Connor's hand and stepped back a pace, away from the window. He shook his head from side to side, as if waging some silent battle within.

"Aiden?" Connor took a step towards him. "It's alright, you can tell me."

"I don't want to talk about this, not now. Maybe tomorrow, when the sun is shining."

"Don't worry, you're safe here."

"No, I'm not." He seemed suddenly defeated and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. He lowered his head to his hands and sighed.

Connor felt terrible, seeing Aiden so upset. He followed him to the bed and sat next to him. "I'll tell you a secret, if you promise not to talk about it in front of my parents, at least not until I tell them."

Aiden looked up and nodded, seeming relieved that someone else had something to hide. "I promise."

"I snuck out of the house two nights ago, after my mother told me not to. I was going to hunt deer down by the river. While I was down there, I saw some kind of creature kill a man, and...it ate him."

Aiden nodded but didn't interrupt.

"Then, it heard me and chased me back here. I hid in the barn all night and didn't come out until the sun was coming up. Then, last night, it came back. This time I was here, in my room. I watched it circle the barn as if looking for something. Then, it heard me and came to my window. I think it was going to come in here, but I had a gun and it heard me cock the hammer back and it left me alone."

"That was fortunate." Aiden sighed.

"I know. Then, I heard you in the loft and thought it was the creature. So I climbed up to see."

"You were foolish to go up into the loft." Aiden sounded angry.

"I don't know why I did, but I had to look. Are you mad at me?" Connor was hurt by Aiden's tone.

"No, not at you, but what would you have done if that creature had been up there? Instead of me?"

"I don't know...I guess fought it with my pitchfork." He shrugged.

"No." Aiden's voice was hardly more than a whisper. "You would have died, like all the others."

"There are others who have seen it? Well, besides the man at the river and me."

"Many have seen it but few have survived." Aiden wiped his eyes.

"Aiden? Are you crying?" Connor put his arm around the boy's shoulders and pulled him close. "Don't worry, if it comes back tonight or tomorrow night, I'll shoot it." He tried to sound confident.

Aiden looked up, his cheeks damp from tears. "Not if' it comes back, but when' it comes back. It always comes back. Now that it knows you have seen it, you and your family are in great danger."

Connor took the other boy's hands in his own. "So you have seen it too?"

"Of course." Aiden looked away, pulling his hands out of Connor's.

"Aiden? Why were you hiding in the loft?" Connor felt his heart racing.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, Aiden went to the window and stared out at the moon and the barn for a while.

Connor rose and stood next to him. "I've told you one of my secretes so if you want, you can tell me one of yours. I swear I won't repeat it." He reached his fingers towards Aiden but the boy didn't take his hand this time. Instead, Aiden stepped to the side a little.

Connor was sad and let his hand fall against his leg. "I'm tired. I guess I'll see you in the morning." He turned and crawled back into bed.

After a few minutes, Aiden left the window and got under the covers next to Connor. He rolled over behind him, so his mouth was against the back of Connor's head. "I was hiding from the creature, in your barn."

"Why?" Connor felt Aiden's breath on his head and neck.

"It was looking for me...because I ran away." He snuffled, tears running down his face.

Connor rolled over and their noses bumped together. He could feel Aiden's breath on his face and smelled the boy's scent. "You ran away...from it? I don't understand."

Aiden turned his head to the ceiling and nodded. "Yes, and now it is looking for me...and you."

Connor was silent for a while; the gravity of what Aiden had said slowly sinking in.

"I should not have hidden. I should have let it take me away and maybe you would be safe." Aiden sighed. "Maybe..."

"It wants to take you away? I thought it wants to kill and eat people."

"Yes, but with me, it's different."

"I don't understand."

"I saw it one night, just as you did. It was killing someone outside my village and I was hiding along the road. I ran and it chased me home. I thought I was safe but it came into my house. It killed my mother and father and then came into my room. My brother and I shared a bed and I watched as it killed him too." His hands were shaking.

"Oh my god..." Connor gasped, realizing how lucky he and his mother had been. "How did you escape?"

Aiden turned his face back toward Connor. "I didn't."

"But you are alive. It didn't kill you." Connor took Aiden's hands and felt them shaking. "You escaped!"

"No, I didn't." Aiden gripped Connor's hands tightly. "And I never will."

"Aiden, you are hurting me." Connor tried to keep his voice low and pulled his hands out of Aiden's grip.

With a half growl, half snarl, Aiden jumped out of the bed, into the corner of the room, out of the moonlight. He yanked off the clothes he wore and crouched low to the ground, his breath becoming ragged.

"What is wrong?" Connor threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. He struck a match and lit the candle. He turned to the corner and froze, nearly dropping the candle.

A pair of yellow eyes glowed in the darkness, reflecting the light from the candle. As Connor watched, they moved closer, towards him. He backed up and bumped into the windowsill again.

Growling softly, a large black wolf slowly crossed the room, its yellow eyes fixed upon him.

Connor glanced towards the door, half-ajar, and the rifle propped next to it.

As if it understood, the wolf rubbed against the door, quietly closing it. Aiden, the wolf, now stood between Connor and his gun. He made no move to close the distance between them, just watched Connor by the window.

"Aiden...can you understand me?" He took a step towards the wolf, wiling himself not to shake with fear.

The wolf growled and showed his teeth but did not move. It looked from Connor to the closed window, and back again.

Connor stopped moving. For a few minutes, they stood still, watching each other. Connor realized Aiden wasn't going to kill him or he would have done it already. He slowly moved back to window and unlatched it. He pushed it open, cool night air filling the room. Then, he moved to the bed and set the candle on the table. He looked again at the black wolf standing by the door.

"I am your friend Aiden; at least I'd like to be. I know we've only known each other for a little while but I have strong feelings for you that I don't fully understand. I hope that means something to you." He blew out the candle and lay down on the bed, trembling.

"The window is open now..." He whispered.

...to be continued...

Will Ren Latexren@yahoo.com