Bryce Darrow took a sip of mead and set his mug down. He faced the sheriff and lowered his voice. "I never saw him before today. To be honest, he made me uneasy."
"What did he look like?" The sheriff took a sip from his mug.
"Well, he was taller than me and had longer black hair. He wasn't particularly large and he looked a little sickly I guess, like he wasn't eating well."
"Hmm, doesn't sound like anyone I can think of at the moment. You know, you only come here two or three times a year. Is it possible you've just missed him?"
"Well sure, that's possible. It's just...the way he acted, and god that smell, you'd think he didn't interact with people very often. He had no respect for my personal space."
"Well, nothing you've told me so far is against the law." The sheriff laughed, taking another drink from his mug. "Still, if you see him again point him out to me please. I like to keep track of who comes and goes in the village, especially after what happened to those two girls."
"Sure, I'll point him out if I see him again, though I hope I don't." Bryce took a piece of bread and dunked it into some broth. "I'll be heading home tomorrow. It was good to see you again."
"Same. I enjoy your trips to the village. I should make it a point to stop out to your farm on occasion, if you don't think that would be imposing."
"Not at all. I'll have Millie cook up something special, just give me some notice if you can."
"How about one month from today? Your crops should be planted and that will give us some time to pheasant hunt, if you have a mind to."
"Actually, that sounds like a really good idea. I'll bring Connor along. He likes to..."
They were interrupted, as the inn door burst open and two men entered. Bryce recognized them as Graham and Russell, the two he had been with earlier.
Graham hastily closed the door while Russell looked around the room.
"Is the sheriff in here?" He called out in a panic.
"Aye, I'm over here." The sheriff rose. "What's wrong now?"
Russell made his way through the tables and stepped up to the Sheriff. "There is something in the woods, just outside of town."
"Something? Can you be more specific?"
Graham, standing at the door, blurted out loudly. "It's a werewolf! Father Thompson was right!"
The sheriff looked at Bryce and sighed. "It was a pleasure dining with you." He rose, wiped his mouth with the napkin, and extended his arm towards the door. "Please, lead on."
The three men left the inn and slowly, conversation resumed, though at a hushed level. Everyone seemed on edge and watched the doors and windows carefully, as if they expected something to come crashing in upon them at any moment.
Bryce finished his meal and pushed his chair back. He downed the last of his mead and left the inn. His horses needed tending to before he went to bed and he felt the sudden urge to keep an eye on his wagon.
Outside, a fog had moved into town, coming from the woods. While not unusual, it did add to the unsettling feeling he had, since the men had cried werewolf. Bryce walked to his wagon and checked on the horses. They were standing still, ears twitching forward and back.
"There now...easy does it." He filled their feedbags and offered one to the closest horse, but it pulled its head back, refusing the food. "Now what the devil has gotten into you? Fine, have it your way. You can eat in the morning or once we get home."
He looked over his shoulder at the moon. It was full and rising above the trees surrounding the village. He could easily see quite a ways down the street in both directions. Nobody else was about but he knew the sheriff and those two men were not far off. His gaze lingered on where the main road entered the forest. Like some dark abyss, the opening in the trees was a solid sphere of blackness. He did not envy the sheriff, if he had gone in there.
Bryce climbed into the wagon and pulled the half door in the back closed. He rolled down the canvas flap and tied it to the wooden side rail. His unrolled a mat and blanket, spreading them down the middle of the wagon. The bedroll wasn't much, but he had gotten used to sleeping on the wagon floor and it was comfortable enough. He lifted the lid on a small box at the front of the wagon and pulled out a pistol. It only held one shot and he hoped he wouldn't need it.
To his side, the black wolf pelt lay on top of some bags of salt and flour. He could see it in the pale gloom of the wagon's interior. The moonlight lit the white canvas just barely enough to see his way around. The pelt appeared as a patch of blackness against the white bags it rested on. He ran his fingers through the fur, marveling at the softness. "Maybe you'll keep werewolves away tonight, unless they want to end up as a pelt for sale too." He laughed quietly to himself and lay back. "Oh...what is that smell?" He sniffed his hand and grimaced. The scent that lingered on the pelt was identical to what the stranger had smelled like. Bryce remembered the man had handled the pelt for a few minutes. "Wonderful. Now I have to clean that before I can attempt to sell it."
He wiped his hand on a rag and rolled onto his side. In a few minutes, he was asleep.
Aiden, the wolf, watched Connor climb back into the bed and pull the blanket up to his neck. He could smell the fear on the boy and while it was exciting, it was also very sad. He hadn't meant to shift his form, it just happened. He blamed the full moon and the powerful emotions he was feeling. Now, there was nothing to do but leave; run away again. There would be no mending their friendship after this. Connor would know he wasn't human.
Aiden padded to the window and looked back at the bed. He could see Connor watching him and it broke his heart. There was something special about the farm boy who had befriended him, but now, he would never have the chance to find out.
The wolf placed its front paws on the windowsill and scrambled out, into the moonlit night. He landed softly in the grass outside the cottage and sniffed the damp air. He was alone. For a moment, he turned back to the window and reconsidered. Aiden didn't want to leave. He wanted to crawl back into bed and lay with Connor. In the short time he had spent with him, he had regained a portion of his former life and had been happy. He had strong feelings for Connor and he knew Connor did for him as well.
No, that was not possible. He had to leave. It was the only chance Connor and his family had. It probably wouldn't matter to the beast that pursued him, but maybe it would follow him and not bother with the humans. Maybe it would spare them.
Barely audible, he heard Connor inside. The boy was crying.
"Goodbye Aiden." Connor whispered and rolled over, his back to the window. He didn't care that it was still open, allowing god knows what to creep into the room. He ran his hand over the spot where Aiden had been lying. It still felt warm. He buried his face in the pillow and wept.
The wolf shook its head back and forth, breathing heavily. Aiden wanted to stay but he needed to leave. What to do? Did he dare place his own needs and feelings above what he knew should be done? The simple truth presented itself. Even though they had just met, Connor had filled a void in Aiden's life that he thought would forever exist. In many ways, for a short time, Aiden had a brother again, someone who cared for him.
He remembered the night the beast had taken his family from him. He had lost everything he valued, everything he loved. No! He would not allow that to happen to Connor. If he couldn't be with him, touch him, love him... at least he would know the boy was alive and safe.
The wolf sprinted through the damp grass, towards the river. Aiden knew where to look for the beast. As much as it terrified and grieved him, he would return to his maker and beg forgiveness. He would do whatever was asked of him to protect Connor, even if it meant the unthinkable.
In the bed, Connor tried to sleep, but couldn't. He wiped his eyes and sat up, pushing the cover aside. He used the moonlight to explore the corner of the room where Aiden had changed into the wolf. There, against the wall, were his sleeping clothes.
Connor picked them up and smelled them. They were still slightly warm and smelled like Aiden. He quickly stripped off his pants and dressed in the sleeping clothes. Then, tears forming in his eyes again, he returned to the bed and lay back on Aiden's side. Eventually, he managed to cry himself to sleep.
A gunshot rang out in the woods and Bryce was instantly awake. He reached for his pistol and untied the flap on the back of the wagon, above the half door.
A second gunshot, then a third echoed through the night. Bryce opened the door and stepped down into the street. He closed the wagon's half door and looked around.
In the pasture where they were tethered, his and other horses were alert, ears pointed towards the forest.
In a moment, he heard a loud commotion at the edge of town and recognized the sheriff's voice. He stuck his pistol into his belt and ran towards the sound.
Two men were coming out of the forest as quickly as possible, supporting a third between them. Bryce met them partway into town.
"What happened?" He reached out, offering to help.
The sheriff shook his head. "We've got him. Get to the inn and have someone heat up some water and get some clean towels."
Bryce looked down and noticed Russell, who was being carried, was missing the lower portion of his right leg. "What in the name of God?"
"Now Bryce! He doesn't have much time; he's bleeding badly." The sheriff yelled.
"Of course." Bryce nodded and ran to the inn. He rushed inside and relayed the Sheriff's instructions.
In a moment, the sheriff and Graham entered, supporting Russell between them. They set him on a table and the hot water and towels were brought forth. Two of the barmaids began to clean and treat the remainder of his leg while the sheriff called another man over.
"Go get the doctor and be quick about it. Tell him it's an emergency and to bring his bag. Tell him there has been an amputation."
The other man nodded and ran from the inn.
The sheriff faced Bryce. "I will be back in a few minutes. Try to keep Russell calm and keep everyone inside." He pointed to the man on the table, who was writhing in agony.
"I will." Bryce nodded.
The sheriff left the inn and disappeared into the night.
The other people began to gather around the man on the table. One woman spoke, asking what had happened.
Graham sat down, his hands shaking.
"Earlier this evening, we were in the woods heading here. My brother and I were almost to the village when something stepped out into the trail in front of us. It was huge and covered in hair. And the stench...my God it was terrible."
Bryce narrowed his eyes. "What did it smell like?"
"Rotting meat and moldy hay, I guess." Graham shook his head.
Another man placed his hand on Graham's shoulder. "What happened then?"
"It just stood there, blocking the trail."
"So it attacked you?" Bryce asked.
"No, not really. It just swayed back and forth, sniffing the air. Then, it ran off into the woods."
"So what makes you think it was a werewolf?" A woman inquired.
"This!" Graham pointed to his brother's half leg. It was wrapped in bloody towels as the barmaids attempted to stop the bleeding.
A larger man shook his head. "It could have been anything, a bear maybe."
Graham jumped up, sending the chair falling backwards. "I know what I saw damn you! It was not a bear!"
"Easy Graham, you've had quite a shock tonight." Bryce put his hand on the other man's shoulder.
The inn door opened and the sheriff returned, accompanied by the doctor and the man who had gone to fetch him. The sheriff had a large rifle with him now.
"Thank God. Doc, you have to help him!" Graham pointed to his brother.
The doctor took a quick look and then waved everyone back. He faced the innkeeper. "I want to get him into a room so I can treat him away from this mob."
The innkeeper nodded and, with the help of another man, carried Russell into a side room and closed the door.
Graham faced the sheriff. "You tell them! You were there too!"
The sheriff looked around the room and realized every eye was upon him. By their terrified expressions, he knew the damage had already been done.
"I do not what attacked us in the woods tonight. It was not a man...perhaps it was a..."
"Werewolf!" A woman in the back shouted.
The word was taken up by several others and repeated.
"Now before everyone goes crazy around here, let's get one thing straight." The sheriff raised his voice. "Werewolves are just a bedtime story created to frighten children into behaving. They are not real and they certainly are not in our forest." He looked around the room, daring anyone to say otherwise.
Graham shook his head. "Tell me what kind of creature stands on two legs, is covered with fur, and has teeth and claws strong enough to rip a man's leg clean off!"
The sheriff took a deep breath and slowly released it. "A bear."
"It was not a bear. I know bears; I've hunted bears. The do not run around on two legs, and this thing did!"
"Yeah, well neither do wolves!" The sheriff glared. "Look, whatever it is, we put at least one bullet into it, maybe all three, so it's not going to be coming around here anytime soon."
"Oh yeah?" Graham raised his arms towards the ceiling. "It didn't drop when we shot it. No sir, it ran off! That means it's still out there."
"Yeah, and probably dead now."
"You don't know that!" He glared at the sheriff.
"What would you have me do? Round up everyone in the village, grab torches, and go looking in the woods? That is madness."
"Well we certainly can't wait around here for it to come back."
"Look. It's late, you've had an ordeal, and your brother needs you by his side. Let this be for tonight and tomorrow we will sort it out." He placed his hand on Graham's shoulder. "I give you my word."
Graham shook the sheriff's hand off. "Your word won't get my brother's leg back and it won't defend against an unholy beast like that." He left the gathering, following the doctor into the side room.
The sheriff looked around the room and cleared his throat. "My friends, it's late. Please go home or stay here, whatever makes you happy. If you do go out, do so in pairs. I believe it was a bear we saw tonight and if it is still alive, it's wounded, and that makes it all the more dangerous." He turned to Bryce. "A word please?"
"Of course." Bryce nodded. "I'm going to try to get some sleep so if you want to walk with me, you can escort me to my wagon."
"I'll do that. Are you certain you don't want to spend the night here? Or, if you'd like, I have a spare room in my place."
"I don't believe in werewolves sheriff, and I can take care of myself." He patted the pistol in his belt. "Still, thank you for the offer."
The two men left the inn and made their way to Bryce's wagon. The street was deserted. Nobody had left the inn and nobody was headed towards it. An uneasy silence lay over the village.
In the moonlit, fog-covered street, they paused to talk. The sheriff looked around and when he was sure they were alone, he spoke quietly.
"I want to tell you something as I think you can handle what I have to say without going off the deep end like the rest of them."
Bryce nodded.
"I honestly don't know what I saw tonight."
"So it wasn't a bear."
"No, it wasn't. I had to say that, you understand. I couldn't have people panicking."
"I understand. If I may inquire, what do you think it was?"
The sheriff shook his head and looked around. "God help me, I never thought I would say this, but I have to agree with Graham."
"Are you serious?" Bryce looked around the deserted street. "A werewolf?"
"I don't know. It was large, I mean really big. It was standing on two legs and running on two legs. It had the strangest arms. They were a good deal longer than a man's arms, with huge hands. I didn't get a good look, as it was facing us, but I swear it had a snout and pointed ears."
"So what happened in the woods?"
"Well, I went back to the place where the brothers said they had seen it. There wasn't anything there...but I had the strangest feeling we weren't alone. Something was watching us. We looked around in the brush to either side of the trail but didn't see anything. Then, as we made ready to return to the inn, it stepped out of the trees blocking our path. One minute it wasn't there, and the next it was. I had looked in that exact spot or very close to it."
"Graham said it attacked Russell."
"Yes. It just stood there, swaying back and forth, sniffing the air. Then, it hunched over and ran at us, arms swinging at its sides. We aimed and fired. I know my shot struck it, but it didn't slow it. It slammed into Russell and knocked him down like a child. I saw it raise an arm and it slashed down on him. It ripped his leg clean apart. I've never known an animal to be able to do that, not even a bear."
"What did it do then?"
"It picked up his leg and ran off with it." The sheriff shook his head. "I guess it was hungry or maybe wanted a souvenir." He gave a little laugh, but his comment wasn't meant to have been amusing. "Come on; let's get you back to your wagon. I need to check on Russell."
The continued walking down the road and arrived at the wagon. Bryce took a moment to check on the horses and confirmed they were fine.
"Well, I'll see you in the morning I guess." The sheriff extended his hand. "Try to have a good night and keep that pistol nearby." He pointed to the gun in Bryce's belt. "I wish you would reconsider sleeping out here alone."
"Aye, I'll sleep with it next to me." He released the sheriff's hand and turned to his cart. He took two steps and froze.
The sheriff had turned to leave but hesitated, and turned back when he didn't hear Bryce climb into the wagon. "Is something wrong?"
Bryce backed up until he was standing next to the sheriff. "Earlier, when I heard the gunshots and came out to see if I could help, I closed the door on the wagon." He pointed to the half door on the back. It was open a few inches.
"Are you certain?" The sheriff lowered his voice.
"Definitely. I always do and I remember hearing the latch click." He pulled the pistol from his belt and cocked the hammer back.
The sheriff lowered his rifle from his shoulder and cocked it. "I guess we better have a look inside." He stepped up to the side of the door and Bryce took the other side.
The sheriff pulled open the door and held his breath. Nothing happened. He faced Bryce. "It's too dark to see inside. I'll just stick my head in."
Bryce shook his head but didn't say anything. He motioned with his hand for the sheriff to step back, and slowly moved back from the wagon himself.
"Get back..." He whispered.
They continued to move back until they were closer to the inn than the wagon. Bryce lowered his pistol and whispered. "He's in there."
"Who is?" The sheriff also lowered his gun.
"The man I told you about earlier."
"How do you know?"
"I can smell him. It's that same rotting meat smell from this afternoon. I'm certain of it."
The sheriff nodded. "Come to think of it, that's what the creature in the forest smelled like too."
Bryce squatted down in the road. "Let's sit here for a bit and watch."
"I'd feel better if we had a few more men with guns to back us up. We've already shot at that thing three times tonight and it didn't seem to slow it down."
Bryce nodded. "I'll stay here and watch if you want to go round up a few."
"Alone? That doesn't seem like a good idea."
"Well if we both go, we won't know if he leaves."
"True but if you stay, and he or it comes out and sees you, I won't be here to help you."
"Give me your rifle and then go get help."
The sheriff nodded and handed his rifle to Bryce. "Stay here and don't do anything foolish like go back to your wagon."
"You don't have to tell me twice." He set his pistol on the ground and pulled the rifle to his shoulder, the barrel aimed at his wagon.
"I will be back as soon as I can." The sheriff rose and ran back to the inn. In a moment, he and a few others left the inn, heading to a nearby house.
Bryce watched the wagon, his heart racing. He was certain he had smelled the terrible odor of the man, and he knew he had closed the wagon door earlier. Was the man waiting for him inside? Was he...a werewolf? He shook his head, still not believing in such things.
The horses near the wagon shifted uneasily and stomped the ground. Something was spooking them, that much was certain.
Bryce continued to watch the wagon, expecting at any minute to see the back door fly open and something big and hairy come running at him. He was sweating now, and lowered the rifle to wipe his eyes.
In the forest, a long, deep howl sounded from the darkness. It was a wolf, but unlike any he had heard. Unlike a mournful cry, it was more of an angry scream. It repeated itself and then the woods were silent.
Bryce heard movement behind him and turned, rifle in hand.
"Easy there, it's me. I brought a few others."
Bryce counted four other men, one with a lantern. He nodded at them and then pointed to the woods. "Did you hear that?"
"Aye, we did. If that's a normal wolf then I've never heard one." A man next to the sheriff shook his head.
The sheriff pointed to the wagon. "Any activity while I was gone?"
"No, nothing." Bryce shook his head.
"Well, we have a lantern and a few more guns so let's take a look inside your wagon."
The men followed Bryce and the sheriff down the street, until they reached the wagon. The man with the lantern handed it to Bryce.
"Wish me luck." He took a deep breath and then stuck his arm and the lantern inside the wagon. Not sure what he expected to see or happen, he was relieved that the wagon was empty. He pulled out of the wagon and faced the sheriff. "Nothing. If he was in there, he's gone now."
"And you didn't see anything leave the wagon?"
"No."
"Well, I want you to stay the night with me, and I won't be taking no for an answer." The sheriff gave him a stern look.
"Under the circumstances, I think that is an excellent idea. Let me just check on a few things inside and then I'll join you." He ducked back into the wagon.
The sheriff faced the other men. "Thank you for coming with me. There is something strange going on around here and until I find out what, keep your weapons with you at all times please."
They all agreed and headed back towards the inn.
The sheriff looked down the street, to the dark opening leading to the woods. He wondered if whatever he had seen earlier was standing within the shadows, watching them.
"Well son of a bitch!" Bryce grumbled inside the wagon.
"What is wrong?" The sheriff turned away from the street, to the wagon, where Bryce was climbing down.
"I've been robbed!" He shook his head.
"Oh? What is missing?"
Bryce looked around, glancing towards the forest. "The black wolf pelt I was selling."
"You certain?"
"Yes. I touched it before I went to bed tonight." He sighed.
"Anything else?"
"Not that I can tell."
"You think that stranger took it?"
"Well, he was the only one who really noticed it today. He spent a fair amount of time rubbing it and even smelling it. I should have seen this coming."
"I'm just glad you weren't here when he stole it. No telling what he might have done."
"Let's go, I'm finished here." Bryce closed the door, hearing it click. "See? Closed again. Let's hope it is so in the morning."
They walked down the street, heading to the sheriff's home. More than once, they looked over their shoulders, towards the forest behind them.
In the early dawn, Connor rolled over and faced the ceiling. His eyes felt swollen and his nose was congested. He looked towards the corner of the room where Aiden had somehow changed into a wolf, but the boy wasn't there. He looked to the window, still open. The sun was just beginning to light the eastern sky. There were chores to be done.
He rubbed his eyes and climbed out of bed. For a moment, he stood facing the door, feeling sick to his stomach. There were so many things wrong at the moment; he didn't know where to begin. Recent events kept forcing their way into his thoughts.
People don't change into wolves. His mother would say it was the work of the devil, but he didn't think Aiden was evil. He shook his head and opened his door. The main room was dark; his mother was still sleeping. Connor made his way to the washbasin and splashed some cold water onto his face. He had to conceal that he had been crying from his mother. She would not understand what he felt for Aiden. In fact, he wasn't sure he did himself. He remembered how his heart had fluttered when he touched Aiden's fingers, and when they had touched in bed and by the window. In fact, just sharing his bed with the other boy had stirred such strange feelings, he wondered if he were under some kind of enchantment.
Having seen Aiden transform into the black wolf, Connor new he wasn't human. But, now that he was gone, perhaps things would return to normal. He thought a moment, realizing `normal' wasn't very exciting. He found himself wishing Aiden would return.
How was he going to explain to his mother that Aiden had left? He played out the conversation in his mind, as he dressed in his work clothes.
"He felt rested enough so he left."
His mother would ask `when'.
"In the night, after you went to sleep."
She would ask `what he was wearing'.
"Some of my clothes." No, that wouldn't work. He only had a few items of clothing and they were all accounted for. Aiden wasn't wearing clothes when Connor found him in the loft so he couldn't have put his own back on. Should he take a pair of pants and a shirt and hide them? That would make it more believable. But hide them for how long? He needed all the clothes he had and eventually, his mother might find them.
Ok, so he left in the nude. No, that wouldn't work either. She was certain to be upset. Then again, it was obvious Aiden wasn't coming back so what difference did it make if she was displeased with him, or Connor? It didn't.
Connor shook his head. "God, I'm going to go insane." He whispered to himself. He pulled on his boots and left the cottage heading for the barn. The sky was growing lighter by the minute; dawn had arrived.
He opened the double doors and the animals stared at him blankly. The sheep began to push past him, and the chickens followed the sheep. Connor stepped aside as the bull walked past, followed by the cows. Those that had calves were still in the barn so he pulled out a pail and began to milk the ones that were not actively feeding their young.
Two hours later, he had cleaned the barn, filled the water trough, and milked the cows that needed it. He opened all the windows and the morning breeze blew through, carrying away the staleness from the night before. He looked towards the ladder leading to the loft and his heart grew heavy. He knew the loft was empty.
He returned to the cottage, set the fresh milk on the doorstep, and removed his boots.
"Connor?" His mother called from inside.
"One moment." He set his boots by the door and carried the pail inside.
"How are you dear?" She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and took the pail.
"Fine." He sat at the table. "Tired."
"Didn't you sleep well?" She looked at the door and then at the table. "Where is Aiden?"
Connor felt his heart pinch. "Gone." Just saying that made his eyes water.
"Oh. Just this morning?"
"Yes."
"Well, I guess he is feeling better." She turned away and pulled a frying pan out of the hearth. "I made some pancakes for you."
"Thank you." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Are you alright dear?" She set the pancakes on a plate and placed it in front of him. "Are you crying?" She sat next to him.
"No. I got some dust in my eyes in the barn and it's bothering me."
"Really? Let me see." She reached for his face.
"I am fine." He pulled away.
"Do not take that tone with me young man." She grabbed his chin and turned his face towards her. "Well your eyes are all red and puffy. You have been crying! She frowned.
"No!" He pulled his head free of her hand. "I'm going to clean up." He stood and stepped away from the table.
"What about breakfast?"
"I'm not really hungry." He left the cottage and walked to the well. For a few minutes, he leaned against the stones and looked down into the water. It wasn't very far down but maybe enough that if he jumped in he wouldn't be able to get out and would drown. He leaned further over.
"I'm going to do the wash today so give me your work clothes. I'll get the clothes from your bed." His mother called from the cottage door.
"No!" He turned around. "Don't wash them!" Too late, he realized his reaction was abnormal. She left the cottage, walking towards him.
"What the devil has gotten into you?" She placed her hands on her hips and glared. "First you don't want to eat and now you don't want me to wash your clothes."
"I'll eat after I clean up." He removed his shirt and handed it to her. "You can wash this please."
"And those pants; they are filthy." She held her hand out.
"Yes mother." Connor removed his pants and handed them to her. He was now completely naked and covered his groin with his hands.
"For goodness sake, Connor. I've seen you naked a million times. Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into you this morning." She turned and walked back to the cottage. "You've been acting oddly since you found that boy in the barn. I think it is just as well he is gone."
Connor balled his hands into fists, speaking before the thought. "Don't say that. I liked him!"
She turned in the doorway and shook her head. "I think a little too much. It's time we had a long talk, once your father gets home." She went inside and closed the door.
Connor turned back to the well and slammed his hands against the rock rim. He closed his eyes, feeling tears forming again. Determined not to cry, he pulled the bucket up and dumped the entire contents over his head. The cold water sent a shock through him and it helped clear his mind. He used the washcloth to clean up and then returned to the cottage.
He opened the door and walked straight to his room. The sleeping clothes were missing from his bed and he knew his mother was washing them. Even his pillowcase and sheets had been taken. All that remained of Aiden was being washed away.
There was another pair of pants and shirt in the chest at the foot of the bed, and he dressed himself. He returned to the table but having completely lost his appetite, he carried the plate to the counter.
His father was due to return today. Hopefully he had sold enough to purchase the necessary supplies. Connor smiled, knowing his father would be pleased with the progress he had made plowing the fields. They were ready to seed now. Connor left the cottage and looked up at the sun. It was going to be another nice day. He picked up the empty milk pail and headed towards the pasture to milk the rest of the cows.
Connor's father opened his eyes and yawned. He looked around, momentarily confused as to where he was, before remembering he had spent the night at the sheriff's house. He pulled his shirt on, picked up his pistol, tucked it into his belt, and left the bedroom.
"Good morning Bryce." The sheriff tipped a cup of warm tea in his direction.
"Sheriff." He took a seat across the table.
"Call me Morgan. I think we've become better friends of late."
"Thank you, that means a lot to me." Bryce nodded.
"Would you like some warm tea?" He pointed to a pot on the stove.
"Don't mind if I do." Bryce poured himself a cup and returned to the table. "I want to thank you again for offering me a room last night."
"Well, I wouldn't have been able to sleep if you'd stayed in your wagon, so really, you did me a favor." He took a sip of his tea and set the cup down. "So, I suspect you'll be heading home?"
"Aye, I want to check in on the family. I'm worried about them, what with all the strange things going on around here. This used to be a quiet place." He downed the last of his tea and set the cup on the table. "Thank you again. I'll see myself out."
"Hold up a moment if you please." The sheriff rose. "I wish to accompany you through the forest."
"Oh? An escort?" Bryce smiled.
"That's one way to look at it but I want to make sure the road is safe. You aren't the only one likely to be on it today."
"Well, that's kind of you. I'll need some time to hitch my team and then I'm heading out. What say you meet me at my wagon an hour?"
"That sounds good. I'm going to check in on Russell and then I'll join you." Morgan pulled on a heavy coat and shouldered his rifle. "Have a care when you check the wagon."
"Aye." Bryce waved good-bye and left the sheriff's house, returning to his wagon.
He approached the wagon carefully, checking to make sure the horses were calm. They had relaxed considerably, since the night. The door to the wagon was closed, just as he left it. He unlaced the sides and rolled up the heavy canvas. Nothing had been disturbed during the night but his gaze lingered to the sacks of grain, where the black wolf pelt had rested, before it was stolen.
The scent of the stranger was gone, making him wonder if the events of the night had only been a dream. He fed his horses and hitched them to the wagon. In a while, the sheriff rode up on his horse.
"I'm almost ready." Bryce tightened down the canvas sides and pulled the chocks out from around the wheels. He tossed them into the wagon and secured the back door. He climbed into the seat and snapped the rains lightly. "Get a move on." He clicked his teeth and the horses began to move forward.
The sheriff pulled up along the wagon. "How far is your farm from here?"
"We were within three miles yesterday, at Graham's place. Just across the river. There was a side lane off the main path, just beyond their place, but we didn't go that far."
"So a few hours ride from here. Let's hope it's a quiet ride." He moved forward, taking the lead as they entered the forest.
Connor carried the pitcher of milk up from the fields and set it on the table. His mother was gone, probably in the barn collecting eggs. He dipped a ladle into the pail and took a drink. He had skipped breakfast and now, his stomach was rumbling and tight. He looked for some bread and finding some, quickly stuffed it into his mouth. His mother would disapprove but she wasn't there at the moment.
He had spent most of the morning with the livestock, either milking the cows, something that needed to be done twice a day, or moving the sheep to a fresh pasture. As usual, his shirt was soaked with sweat. He removed it and splashed some water from the basin onto his face. Careful not to drip on the table, he sat down and had another piece of bread.
"Connor!"
He heard his mother call from the barn. Stuffing the last piece of bread into his mouth, he left the cottage and headed to the barn, leaving his shirt on the back of a chair to dry.
"Yes?" He stepped into the barn.
"Did you gather the eggs already?" She had a basket over her arm.
"No, I thought you were going to. I was in the pasture."
"Well I was going to, but there aren't any."
"Really?" He walked around her and examined the nest boxes. "I wonder if we have a weasel or perhaps a fox."
"Well whatever it was, it has taken all the eggs. Your father will not be pleased. I suggest you set a trap or two around the barn. We can't have something stealing our eggs." She left the barn in a huff, leaving him alone.
Connor went to a side room and pulled down a few traps, from where they hung on pegs. He would have to set them outside the barn so as not to trap any of the smaller livestock on accident. For a moment, he wondered if he might catch the creature from the river on accident. That would be a problem when it came time to release it, though he doubted they had a trap strong enough.
He placed the traps where he thought something small might enter the barn but did not set them, not yet. He would do that before dark, once the animals were in the barn.
Connor returned to the cottage and found his mother hanging his clothes and bed linens on the line. They were freshly washed. He frowned, knowing any lingering scent of Aiden had been removed.
"Those didn't need washing." He leaned on the tree the line was attached to.
"Yes, they did. That boy wore your clothes and slept in your bed. God only knows what germs he may have had, or lice."
"Why didn't you like Aiden?" He walked over to where his mother was pinning his sleeping shirt to the line.
"What kind of a question is that?" She faced him, frowning.
"Just a question."
"I didn't dislike him, I just didn't know him."
"Well I liked him, he was nice." Connor looked away.
"I think perhaps you liked him enough for the both of us." She grumbled and pinned his sleeping pants next to the shirt. "You seemed to warm up to him very quickly."
"Is that such a bad thing mother?" Connor raised his voice. "I don't have any friends around here and the first one I meet you have nothing nice to say about." He turned and stormed back to the front door.
His mother watched him go, shaking her head. "Lord forgive me but that boy is going to drive me to drink." She pinned his sleeping pants next to his shirt.
Connor leaned against the front of the cottage and looked down the lane. He thought he could see movement, down where the road entered the forest. Hoping it was his father, he ran to the top of the field for a better look.
A lone person was slowly walking up the road, heading towards him. It was not his father and he did not recognize whoever it was, but he could tell it was a man.
It wasn't that they never had unexpected company but something about the man unnerved him. There was only one other farm in the area and he didn't recognize the person as either of the two who lived across the river. Town was half a day away so where was the man's horse?
The person on the road stopped and looked up to where Connor was standing. He didn't wave, or call out, he just stared.
Connor ran back to the cottage. "Mother!" He ran around the house, to the clothesline, but she wasn't there. He ran to the front door and collided with her, as she was coming out.
"Lord's sake boy! What is wrong with you today?" She picked up her basket of table scraps from where they had fallen. "I should make you clean up this mess instead of me. Good thing the chickens aren't fussy about dirty food."
"Sorry mother. Somebody is coming up the lane." He pushed past her, going to his room and retrieving his rifle. He returned to the front door and set the rifle just inside, within quick reach.
"Who is it?" She asked. "Is it your father?"
"No, it's someone walking. A man."
"Oh my, I wonder who it is." She left the house and began walking towards the top of the hill.
Connor ran after her, stopping at her side, on the top of the hill. From there, they could see all the pastures and fields, even the road from the cottage down to the forest.
"There isn't anyone there." She held her hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun.
"He was there, just a minute ago."
"Maybe he turned around. Was it either Graham or Russell from across the river?"
"I don't think so. He had black hair and was taller."
"Well, he isn't there now and I have work to do. Here, you feed the chickens." She handed him the basket with table scraps and walked back to the cottage.
Connor remained standing on the hill for a few minutes, scanning the surrounding land but he didn't see the man. Wondering if perhaps he had imagined him, he returned to the barn and tossed the scraps in the area where the chickens roosted at night.
He returned to the cottage and set the basket on the table. "I did see someone."
"If you say so." His mother shrugged.
"I do but where is he now?" Connor picked up his rifle from where it leaned against the wall, next to the door.
"I don't know. Put your gun away and join me for lunch. It's past noon already." She began slicing some bread.
"Yes mother." Connor set the gun in his room and returned to the main room, sitting on the bench at the table.
His mother set some food on the table and began eating. "Well, are you going to eat anything?"
He nodded and began lunch. For some reason, he expected someone to knock on the door at any moment. When they were finished, he excused himself and walked to the top of the hill again. He looked around but the man was not there. He continued watching the road for a while and was just about to return to the cottage when he again saw movement at the edge of the forest.
Connor dropped to the ground, hiding in the tall grass. If it was the man again, he didn't want to be seen, but wanted to be able to see where he went. He slowly lifted his head out of the grass.
A man on horseback rode up the lane, followed by his father's wagon. "Father!" He jumped up and waved happily.
The man on the wagon stood and waved too, before sitting back down and cracking the reins loudly across the horses.
Connor ran back to the cottage. "Mother!"
"I'm right here." She was in her rocking chair.
"Father is home." Connor smiled and ran back outside. He ran to down the lane and met the man on horseback, pointing back to the cottage where his mother waved. When his father approached in the wagon, he climbed in and hugged him.
"Well now, I'm glad to see you too son." Bryce hugged Connor and steered the wagon to the cottage before stopping.
The sheriff had dismounted and tied his horse to a tree. "Connor is it? I haven't seen you in a while. You've grown into a fine young man."
"Hello sir." Connor shook his hand.
Connor's father stepped up to his wife and hugged her. "Millie, you remember the sheriff."
"Of course. How nice to see you again." She dipped her head politely.
"Thank you. If I'm not imposing too much, where can a weary traveler get a glass of cold water?" The sheriff smiled.
"I'll get you one." Connor ducked inside and returned with two glasses, handing one to each of the men.
His father downed the water, handed his glass to his wife, and began to roll up the side on the wagon. "Be a good lad and help me unload."
"Yes father." Connor climbed into the wagon and began passing items out to his mother and father. The sheriff pitched in and in no time, they had the wagon unloaded.
"Connor, take the wagon around back and see to the horses." His father moved towards the cottage.
"Yes father." Connor grabbed the closest horse's bridle and led them around towards the barn. The wagon creaked and groaned as it rolled along.
The adults went inside and closed the door.
Connor unhooked the horses and removed their tack. He spent a little while brushing them down and then turned them loose into the closest pasture. The horses happily wandered off, towards the water trough. He hung the tack on the wall and looked around. The ladder to the loft was to the left.
Connor slowly climbed the ladder, until his head was above the floor. It was dark, except for a few rays of light coming through the cracks in the wall.
"Aiden?" He called out quietly. "Are you up here?" He waited, hoping for an answer, but all was quiet. Disappointed, he began climbing down. When he reached the ground, he turned to the door and nearly collided with his father.
"What were you doing in the loft?" His father looked upwards.
"Nothing." Connor shrugged and walked outside.
"Son?" Bryce followed him towards the house.
Connor stopped and turned. "Yes?"
"We should talk." He put his arm around Connor's shoulders.
"About what?" Connor smiled happily at the contact.
"You've plowed the fields and tended to the farm while I was away. You have done a fine job and I'm proud of you."
"Thank you father." Connor smiled proudly.
"And your mother tells me you made a new friend."
"She told you about Aiden?" He sopped smiling.
"Yes, but she said he left this morning."
"He did." Connor looked down.
"I take it you liked him."
Connor looked up and nodded. "Yes."
"Your mother is worried that you fancy him, or did while he was here." His father raised an eyebrow.
"I..." Connor closed his mouth and looked down at his feet.
"Let it be for now. We'll talk about this later." Connor's father resumed walking towards the house. "For now, I want you to come inside and talk to us about what's been going on the past few days, and where those deep scratches on the barn came from."
"You saw them." Connor nodded.
"Yes and your mother told me about them."
"Oh, I see."
"Come on, let's all sit down and figure this out." He led Connor to the cottage and they all took a seat at the table.
Aiden stepped into the river, feeling the cold water on his naked legs. He had been following the river for hours, since leaving the cottage. He had found the spot where the human had died and he had followed the beast's trail towards another farm, several miles away. Aiden had been there a few days prior but he skirted the property this time, sticking to the river. His skin was scratched from branches and his feet were sore from stones in the river, but he kept moving. The further away he went the safer Connor and his family would be. He hoped to find the beast as far from the farm as possible and continue moving away.
He stepped onto the riverbank, and sank to his knees in the soft, black mud. After a brief struggle to free himself, he dragged himself through the mud and onto dry land. By then, his legs and waist were covered, but he didn't care. He dropped to his hands and knees, sniffed the ground and a few trees, and moved on, following the beast's scent. His maker had moved quickly through this area, as if he had a purpose.
For another few hours, he followed the scent and then he stopped. He had come to a section of the forest where a road cut through the trees. Although naked and muddy, he stepped onto the road and looked in both directions. Once again, he dropped to his hands and knees and sniffed the ground. Most of the scents led forward, in the direction he had been heading, but one scent, a strong scent he feared, headed back in the opposite direction.
He stood quickly, hearing voices on the road ahead. There were horses approaching, and men. Aiden ducked into the woods and dropped down behind a fallen tree as a man on a horse and another on a wagon came into view. They were talking and moved past him without noticing where he crouched.
Quietly, he followed them, keeping to the trees along the road. He didn't know who they were but they were headed in the direction of Connor's cottage, and that is where the beast's scent grew stronger.
Connor's father set his mug down on the table. "So, now you know some of my journey, let's hear about your adventures while I was away." He turned to face Connor, as did his wife and the sheriff. He had intentionally not mentioned the `werewolf', as he wasn't sure he believed it was real and there was no point in alarming them.
"Me?" Connor looked uncomfortable.
"Your mother tells me you found the boy in our loft. That seems like a good place to begin."
"A naked boy." His mother frowned.
The sheriff raised an eyebrow. "Does he live around here?"
"No, I don't think so. His name is Aiden." Connor faced the sheriff. "He was wounded and we took him in."
"Wounded?" The sheriff frowned. "How so?"
"I'm not sure. He had a small hole in his side. Mother cleaned and dressed it and it seemed to heal quickly."
"Where is he now?" Connor's father asked.
"He left this morning." Connor looked down.
"Where did he go?" The sheriff asked.
"I don't know. He didn't say goodbye. He just...left."
"Naked again." His mother didn't sound happy.
"Yes ma'am." Connor nodded. "He had been wearing my clothes but he left them here."
"How very strange." The sheriff removed a pipe and a pouch of tobacco. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all." Bryce shook his head.
The sheriff lit his pipe and took a few puffs. "Did he say where he was from; where his family lives?"
Connor looked up. "No sir."
"Well what did he say?" Connor's father asked.
"Not much. He was tired and hungry, and his wound was hurting him."
"He was dirty." His mother scowled.
"He was not!" Connor shot back. "At least no more than I am after working the fields."
"Watch your tone son." Connor's father tapped the table.
"Yes sir." Connor looked down again.
"So tell us about the scratches on the barn doors and walls." The sheriff took another puff on his pipe.
"What do you want to know?" Connor did not make eye contact with any of the adults.
"How they got there of course." His father urged him to explain. "They didn't happen by themselves and judging by the depth and width, it was probably a bear."
Connor took a deep breath and slowly released it. He would not lie to his father, he never had. For him to explain the scratches, however, he would need to reveal the creature he had seen.
"We are waiting young man." His mother scowled.
"I saw what made the scratches."
"Go on." The sheriff nodded. "Tell us about it."
"I was looking out my window around midnight, two nights ago. I thought I saw something walking around the barn. It was dragging its hand along the wood, and I could hear it scratching."
"Was it a bear?" His father asked.
"...it..." Connor paused.
"Son?" His father placed his hand on his shoulder.
"No, it wasn't a bear." He took a deep breath. "It was some kind of creature; not a man and not an animal."
The sheriff made eye contact with Connor's parents. "I think it is time to tell them about something that happened to us in town."
"What happened?" His mother sounded worried. "Was there trouble?"
"Yes." Connor's father nodded. He recounted the events of the last day, including Russell's injury, the howling in the woods, the theft of the wolf pelt, and the man that smelled like rotting meat. When he was done, his wife was practically white with fear.
"So, it is possible we are talking about the same person or creature." The sheriff took another puff on his pipe.
"I smelled rotting meat that night as well." Connor nodded.
"Where?" His father asked.
"Outside my window. I opened it to get some cool air into my room and that's when I saw the creature at the barn. It saw me, and came to my window."
"Oh dear god!" His mother stood. "I told you to close your window! That meant keep it closed!"
"I had my gun, and it heard me click back the hammer. It left, but not before I smelled the rotting meat and river mud."
The sheriff faced Bryce. "I would like to spend the night here if that is not a burden on you."
"Oh course." Connor's father nodded. I'm sorry but we don't have a spare room. You are welcome to the floor in front of the hearth. I can get you a mat and some blankets."
Connor was shaking. He had more to tell but if he did, it would more than likely land him in serious trouble.
"Are you alright?" The sheriff noticed Connor's hands trembling.
"I...there is something I need to say."
"We are listening." Bryce nodded.
"That was not the first time I saw the creature."
"What?" His mother gasped. "You never told me!"
"You were so concerned about my being out of sight and outside after dark, I didn't want to worry you."
"Have you not been listening to yourself, to us? There is a good reason why I don't want you out after dark! My god boy, have you lost all your sanity?" She flopped down on the bench next to her husband and rang her hands together.
"So, I take it you went out after dark?" His father drummed his fingers on the table.
"Yes sir." Connor looked down. He knew he would get a lashing for disobeying his mother.
"What did you see?"
Connor took a deep breath and looked up at his father. "I went to the river to hunt deer, three nights ago. It was after midnight."
His mother started to say something but closed her mouth and left the table.
"I was in my usual spot, the one you showed me. I waited a few hours but never saw any deer. The woods were strangely quiet. I was about to go home when another hunter arrived to shoot coons. He was standing at the water's edge, across the river, and the creature attacked him."
"Who was it?" The sheriff set his pipe on the table.
"I don't know but he's dead now. It killed him. I watched as it ripped him apart and...ate him." Connor shivered unconsciously, the images resurfacing in his mind.
His mother gasped and went into her room, closing the door behind her.
"I tried to leave quietly, while it was eating, but it heard me and chased me here. I hid in the barn and it scratched the doors trying to get inside. I don't think it knows how to open doors. It stayed outside all night waiting for me but in the morning, when the sun came up, it was gone."
"And then it came back the next night." His father nodded. "It probably thought you were in the barn again."
"I don't know." Connor shrugged. "Father, I'm sorry I disobeyed mother and went to the river. I just wanted to help gather food for us."
"We will discuss that later. Is there anything more you need to tell us?"
"Yes sir." Connor nodded. "Today, before you arrived home, I saw a man waking up the lane. He was tall with black hair, and thin of build. When I came to tell mother, and we went back to the top of the hill, he was gone. A while later, you two came riding up the lane."
"How much later?" The sheriff asked.
"I'm not sure. An hour or more?"
"So he might still be in the area." Connor's father frowned. "That sounds a lot like the man who stole my wolf pelt."
"I am definitely staying the night." The sheriff nodded.
"Father? Do you think we are in danger?" Connor asked.
"Yes, I do, but try not to upset your mother any more than you already have. In fact, I need to talk with her, try to calm her down."
"I'm sorry I caused so much trouble." Connor hung his head.
"You had anything to do with that man meeting me in the village, nor what happened to Russell and Graham. Still, you and I are going to have a long talk." He rose and walked to the bedroom. "You have chores I believe." He opened the door and went inside, closing it behind him.
Aiden followed the scent of the beast for two hours. It led him to a small lane that headed away from the main road, up into farm fields. He stayed at the edge of the forest and looked at the small cottage and barn, away in the distance. "Oh no..." He recognized it as Connor's home. He could smell the scent of the two men and realized the man in the wagon had probably been Connor's father, returning home.
His heart began to race, realizing it was too late for the family. The beast had set its mind on them and once that happened, there was no escaping it. He sniffed the air, suddenly scenting something familiar. He turned and coughed, as a vice-like hand gripped his throat, choking him.
"There you are...I've been looking for you since you ran off..."
The hand released his throat and backhanded him across the face, knocking Aiden off balance and sending him to the ground. He rolled onto his back and coughed as a heavy foot landed on his chest, crushing downward.
"Oh...you have injured yourself." The foot moved from Aiden's chest to his side, and pressed on the wound that was mostly healed.
Aiden cried out and struggled to move away. The foot pulled away and he was able to sit up. He looked upwards, into the yellow eyes of a man with black hair. It was his maker, in his human form. "I got lost."
"LIAR!" The man hissed and kicked Aiden in the face, knocking him back onto the ground.
Aiden lay still, breathing heavily. He felt blood running from his lip and heard a deep humming in his ears. He feared he was going to pass out, not that it mattered.
"I saw you the other day, when you killed those sheep. I saw you the other night, when you went to the farm up on the hill ahead. You were not seeking me; you were avoiding me."
Aiden felt hands roughly grab him and flip him over. He was now face down in the dirt. Two hands grabbed his ankles and spread his legs apart.
"You should know by now you can never escape me. I created you...I gave you this gift...I own you."
Aiden heard the man remove his boots and clothing. He knew what was coming; it had happened countless times before. He belonged to the creature and this is how it had claimed him that first time, and how it maintained the claim on him.
The man settled on top of him, his legs between Aiden's. He was heavier and pushed Aiden into the dirt. He positioned himself and thrust forward, uncaring of any discomfort he inflicted.
In a flash of pain, Aiden felt the man's penis push completely inside him. He was being taken again by the creature. Yes, in its current form, it was a man and had a man's penis, but it wasn't human. There was no love, no tenderness. The act was bestial and he hated it; hated himself for what he had become.
A minute later, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. There was no need for foreplay or prolonging the experience. The creature felt no pleasure and it made certain Aiden did not either. This was a chemical bonding, not love. It marked Aiden as its property and withdrew.
Aiden moaned and rolled over, onto his back. He stuck his hands between his legs and felt a cold ooze seeping out of his ass. He examined his fingers; they were covered in a black slime, like tar.
The man bent down so he was face to face with Aiden. His breath was terrible and his eyes bright. "You have displeased me. You have not embraced the gift I have given you and that insults me."
Aiden drew up his courage, hoping to enrage the creature and make it carry him off again, leaving the area. "So take me away and punish me; that's what you enjoy."
"Oh...I shall, for an eternity." He rose. "I think, however, I need to find another. Someone to pass on my gift to, as you obviously don't want it. Yes, a replacement."
"I..." Aiden started to stand.
"Silence!" The man kicked Aiden in the chest, knocking him backwards.
Aiden lay on the ground, gasping for breath as the sky above began to swirl.
"Tonight, I'm going after that farm boy." The man moved off into the woods.