CHAPTER 27

WOLF IN WOLVES CLOTHING

Always strive to give a person the benefit of the doubt.

It’s not only a good rule of thumb to live by, you’ll come off as a person of class and compassion.

The trick is listening to a persons story.

Hearing how one got to where they are in life can often provide you with a  measure of empathy.

…or reveal an animal side they can’t conceal.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A small smirk escaped Lyndie’s lips.

The children looked amongst themselves across the table.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Elsa slammed her spoon onto the table. “What is wrong with people this week? Doesn’t anyone have any manners?” Pushing her chair back she hopped up and marched to the front door.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

“I heard you the first time,” she yelled back, “I’m coming. I’m COMING!!”

Yanking the front door ajar, Wendell nearly knocked her over.

“Wendell!?” Catching herself, she pushed forward and started poking Wendell. “What is WRONG with you?”

“I…”

“Can’t you knock politely and wait for an answer!?”

“But…”

“Why is everyone banging on MY door!??”

“Elsa!” He snapped, catching her finger in his hand.

Mouse just sat there, drooling all over the floor as he stared up at them both.

“Where’s Jan!” Wendell stammered, his eyes darting about the room. “I need to talk with him right now!!”

Yanking her hand back, Elsa placed both her fists on her hips, then defiantly widened her stance. “Now why in the world would Jan be here?”

Wendell blinked hard. “What?”

“I haven’t seen Jan since he marched off this afternoon with you, Mr. Bartleby and Silas. The children and I were just sitting down to dinner.”

“Oh no,” Wendell gasped aloud.

“See,” yelled Jacob from the kitchen, “he’s finally see the danger we’re all in with her cooking!”

Before Elsa could respond, Wendell grabbed her by the shoulders, his expression grave. “If he shows up, don’t let him leave, Elsa,” then lowering his voice close to a whisper, “I think he’s in horrible danger.” He gave her shoulders a firm squeeze. “I think we all are.”

Elsa started to tremble.

Raising her hand, she placed it squarely on his chest, her palm resting across the Ithari. Wendell tried to pull away, but she pressed forward, matching his movement. “Wendell, stop.”

He didn’t want to have this conversation.

Wendell knew the people of the village didn’t like magic. Any real conversation that exposed her to the truth could put Elsa in danger.

“Elsa, I…”

“Stop,” she said again gently. “I don’t know what’s real about all this. About you. About this danger in the village. But I know you have secrets,” and she lifted her palm enough to tap the surface of the gem with her nails.

Again Wendell started to pull away, but she gripped his arm.

“You’re with friends. It’s okay, Wendell. My older brother loved magic so much, it never mattered to him that the people of Putäyäl were small-minded. That they hated magic with as deep of a passion as he loved it.” She smiled up at Wendell, “So he learned to keep secrets. He had to. I don’t know what those secrets were, but I know they helped keep him safe in ways he needed to be safe.”

Reaching down, she took his hand into both of hers.

“Keep your secrets, Wendell. Stay safe. Just…,” she searched his face, “tell us the truth when you speak, and let us help you if we can.”

Wendell pulled his hand back, “I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

She grinned and tucked her bangs behind an ear. “Most of us don’t get to choose what happens.”

“Huh,” he looked down at mouse, “and here I was, thinking it was just me.”

Elsa leaned down to pet Mouse. “Sorry to disappoint, but welcome to the house of the unlucky.”

Ohhhhh, yeah. Ouch. “Soooo Jan hasn’t been here, at all?”

“Nope. Why?”

Taking a deep breath, “This isn’t much more than a guess, but I think Jan went back to Sawyers hiding place down by the river. He’s looking for evidence. Sawyer’s been planning something concerning you—but we didn’t know what. I…uh….got hurt, which is when he brought me back here.”

“You think that’s what the fighting was about earlier today?”

Wendell nodded. “When I came out from talking with Silas this evening, he’d taken off—said there was something he had to do.”

Squatting down, he grabbed Mouse with both hands and roughed up his neck fur. “Would it be alright if I left this big guy here as a guard while I go looking for Jan?”

“Mini horses are always fun to have around the house,” she cooed, tapping the tip of the hounds nose lightly with an index finger.

****

Wendell shut the door behind him, took three steps and realized he had absolutely no idea where to look.

Even being in the village for nearly a month, meeting and mixing with locals, most of it had been working for Silas. He hadn’t ventured off more than a rocks throw from the village or its related paths.

Sure, he’d found himself in some awkward situations, but it wasn’t like he knew the area.

Where the heck am I supposed to go?

It was at the end of the day—the sun had already set. That already made the possibilities uncomfortable.

Don’t panic, he told himself, Let’s start with the possibility of food. If Jan hadn’t ended up and Elsa’s house for some food, it’s not crazy to think that he might stop by the Den for a bite. Right?

Right.

“Good start as any, I guess,” he whispered to himself…and he stepped off the porch.

…into the darkness.

There was a harsh wind, pushing through the trees that bit at Wendell’s face. Limbs swayed in the blackness, the needles of pine trees pulsing with the currents of air—which sounded like something ominous breathing heavily all around him.

Wendell couldn’t feel the cold, but folded up his collar just the same.

It wasn’t until he was far enough away from Elsa’s home that he noticed how hard it was to see. There were no moons in the sky…and precious few stars granting their light tonight. The whole land was swallowed whole in shadows.

Stay calm, Wendell. It’s not hunting you tonight.

But the statement held little comfort.

Who are you hunting?

The firelight from the village pierced the darkness further down the path, a warm beacon of safety beckoning Wendell forward.

He picked up his pace.

I wonder what Old Mayson has for tonights supper? Wendell pondered. He was surprised how fast he’d grown accustomed to the food and drink here. Every meal felt like a feast with rich meats and heavy portions of vegetables and breads that had so much more substance than what he was used to.

Wendell wasn’t overly sure if this was a fact or just his imagination, but it didn’t really matter. Good food was good food, no matter where it came from.

He came to a sudden stop.

Turning his head up to the right, he took a step forward slowly.

Through the cluster of tall trees, Wendell could see the faint starlight outline of the mill.

It’s jagged roof pushing up from the tree line behind Elsa’s home looked much like a giant peeking beyond the forest, making sure all was safe to come out of hiding.

He noticed it again.

…a light.

High in the loft of the building, a flicker of light appeared briefly, then vanished.

Wendell waited, stepping off the main path and leaning against the trees.

It appeared again.

A clump rise into his throat.

Why can’t anything be simple when I’m involved? Though he was almost certain at this point what the answer was.

It was the will of the Universe answering his childhood prayers.

That’s why you’re here, you know. You had to go and open your mouth. Stepping between the trees, Wendell weaved his way cautiously towards the mill. You wanted to be a hero. You wanted to save the world. So what do you do? Pray to make it happen…then forget about it.

He grumbled in his chest, The Universe seems to be a lot like the internet—it doesn’t forget, does it?

Again the light flashed above him, dancing into view and then out of view.

And now here you are, untold miles away from home, the hero of another world.

Wendell had never seen the mill up close. Even in learning how the Mayer Mill had been the center of Putäyäl’s economy, he’d never even thought about walking over and looking at the prominent building.

…and it might have helped.

The closer Wendell got to the giant building, the more unsure he was of where to go. The light was coming from the upper floor—but he didn’t know where stairs might be located.

Without using his power or the dim glow of the stars in the shy, it would all be guess work.

Secrecy, Wendell. That’s what you need—be brave.

Approaching what looked to be large barn doors, he followed the patches of snow, reflecting what light was available. One of the charred doors had been pulled wide recently, leaving a deep arc track in the mud and snow.

“Looks like I’m going the right direction,” he whispered to himself.

He slipped inside.

It was stepping into nothing.

No light. No reflections.

Nothing.

Great, he sighed, now I have to use my non-existent brail reading skills.

Spreading his arms out to his sides, fingers opened wide, Wendell inched his way forward while clenching his eyes shut.

He started counting.

Every time he counted to ten, his eyes popped open to see if they adjusted any better to the darkness.

Somewhere growing up he’d heard that the cells in the human eye regenerated every few seconds, and that vision adjusted to light and dark, movement, then color…in that order.

Hmph, he snorted internally, Look at you now. Remembering something important when it actually counts. Not bad, Wendell. Not bad at all.

Then again, he could have learned that from one his role playing games, but hey—it was worth a try.

“Ten,” he whispered aloud. Sure enough, the contents of the mill, which were non-existent seconds ago, now blurred into view.

Wendell grinned to himself and nodded, “I’ll take it.”

‘Thump, Ba-da-thump!’

A muffled voice elevated overhead, resonating through the floor boards. Someone using not-so-nice words, it sounded like.

Slowling turning in a circle, Wendell found a section of the ceiling which gave an almost indistinguishable glow.

And below it, the faint outline of…stairs.

Bingo.

Again he inched his way forward, and good thing too—because halfway to the set of stairs, his boots met a rather large stack of wood nearly waist high.

Stumbling forward, Wendell flung his hands forward, gripping the chilled and moist planks to keep from face-planting in the darkness.

Whew! Walking carelessly in this darkness could have broken a toe,…or alerted whomever is upstairs.

Cautiously, Wendell made his way around the obstacle and over to the stairs. Pressing his back against the outer wall, he proceeded up the steps.

It wasn’t until he’d made it silently two thirds of the way up that his previous pondering hit him in the gut.

Whomever was upstairs?

Wendell’s knees started shaking, his legs turning slightly inward, hands gripping the logs of the wall next to him.

You…MORON! Why didn’t you THINK about that before climbing this steps? You don’t actually KNOW who’s up here, and you’re going to what? Surprise some axe murderer?

He bit his lips to keep his teeth from chattering.

Okay—that didn’t make any sense. If there was an axe murderer, the situation would have been much different in town, he told himself. Plus, far less animals would be dead, I’m guessing…

Reversing his motion, Wendell backed away from the opening above and stepped on the stair behind him with a boot.

‘Creeeeeak.’

The mill instantly went silent.

Dead silent.

Wendell’s eyes popped open in horror, one hand clamped hard over his mouth.

DO…NOT…BREATHE!!

Without turning his head, Wendell could see a slight fluctuation of light shining into the stairwell. Small swells, like the infinitesimal ripples of water at a lakes edge.

Before Wendell could react with more that a squeak, the floor boards let out a creak as someone dashed across the floor.

Hands up in the air, he turned to flee.

RUUUUNNNN!!!!

“Wendell? Is that you?”

“I think I hate you right about now, Jan Downing,” was all that escaped his lips, his right hand gripping his chest.

Jan stood at the top of the staircase with a single candle in a holder. The lumberjack looked at him puzzled.

“Why?”

Brushing himself off in embarrassment, “BeCAUSE,….I just about wet my pants.”

Chuckling, Jan set the candle down at the edge of the step and walked away. “Watch your step.”

Mumbling under is breath, Wendell completed the stair climb and picked up the candle.

Spread out near the window was a bedroll, and few supplies, a small stack of candles and what looked to be a single crystal. It was squatting atop a tiny dish attached to an ornately carved tripod about six inches tall.

Jan squatted down next to the tripod, his attention on the crystal.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Wendell said, his frustration plain in his tone. “I think we’re all in danger, Jan. You, me, Elsa,…maybe even Silas.”

“Bring me the candle,” Jan replied, “and it’s best to stay over here—the fire ate most of the floor in that direction.” He pointed at the darkness behind Wendell, “It’s a nasty fall, so don’t wander off.”

Wendell took a seat next to Jan on the floor. “Are you listening to me?”

“I am.”

“Well,…that robe confronted me as I was running to Elsa’s in search of you!”

That got the lumberjacks attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. It didn’t touch me.” Sitting upright, “Well I didn’t actually see it—I heard it.”

“You heard it?”

“It spoke to me—said it wasn’t hunting me…tonight.”

“Oh, well that’s okay then,” Jan scoffed sarcastically.

Wendell reached out and grabbed Jan’s arm firmly. “I think it’s after Sawyer.”

Jan looked down at Wendell’s hand on his arm, then slowly pulled away. “That…might not be a bad thing.”

Wendell frowned deeply, “You don’t mean that.”

Adjusting the crystal, strong fingers flicked it by the edge, sending it spinning. A small blue glow emanated from the thin pin holding the spinning crystal to the plate. That glow pulsed outward, seeping through the crude gem. Reaching over to the candle, Jan lifted it to his face and blew it out.

“What are you…”

“There are many gifts Silas has been given in gratitude over the years. Clients and customers of both wealth and power, who have offered tools in the hopes of making the artisans life a bit easier.”

The soft glow didn’t shine like the candle, but the glow that radiated from the spinning crystal made it easier for both to see clearly within a few feet from it’s center. “This is called a Näk-Täni.”

Wendell’s face crinkled. “I’m sorry,…a wha-huh?”

Jan grinned. “Nahk-TAHnee,” he sounded out, “which means to look or view behind you.” Pointing at the crystal, “Silas has done a lot of work for the University of Magic. They’ve also given him quite a handful of treats—this being one of the old man’s favorites. He takes it on every road trip, when he has to sleep in the wagon. It provides a set of eyes in every direction, so he knows who is approaching the wagon out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Wendell grinned, “Wow.”

“I’ve placed a handful of crystals around Elsa’s home. The doors, windows—anywhere someone could enter.”

“You think someone wants to hurt Elsa?” But Wendell knew the answer to that. He’d heard with his own ears, the willingness of the trappers to hurt her if Sawyer disturbed their plans.

“Oh. Right,” he sighed, “Never mind.”

“When I brought you to Elsa’s so we could tend to your wounds, I couldn’t let it go. You’d said there was some creature out there, hurting people. You’d talked about things that sounded so crazy to me—so impossible, but then I saw that robe with my own eyes. I stood among those wolves, who could have ripped me to shreds, but didn’t. They watched me pick you up and followed us back—almost as if…,” he stopped.

“Like they were guarding me,” Wendell finished.

Jan nodded. “And I felt that gem in the center of your chest, even though I couldn’t see it! None of it made sense to me, but it was still happening. It was still true. Things weren’t the way I thought they were, and I found my life flipped on its head.”

Wendell smirked, Welcome to my world.

“Knowing who you really are has helped me get a grip on a lot of that. You trusted me, Wendell—and I won’t forget that. But before we had our talk, something in me had to know. So I went back to the cave just before dawn.”

“You what!?” Wendell gasped. “Out there, alone??”

Jan chuckled, “What, you expect people to stop going outside because there’s something in the dark?” Tapping the cloth beside him at the windows edge, Jan motioned Wendell to take a seat.

“I hate to break it to you, Wendell, but there’s a lot more out there in the dark than a freaky robe and a handful of wolves.” He reached up and scratched the scruff on his face, “And to be honest, it looked like the robe wanted you, not me, so…”

“Gee, thanks,” Wendell sulked.

Reaching to his side, Jan grabbed the small bag he’d been carrying earlier. Pulling open the drawstring, he pulled out what looked at first to be two small clubs—and set them down between him and Wendell. “Look at those more closely, Wendell.”

Both were similar size and shape, but one was wrapped in fur.

Wendell lifted the fur-wrapped object closer to his face.

“Oh no,” he gulped.

“That’s a wolf’s leg. There were several along a table in the cave. Each of them were inserted into wooden handles, so you could stamp them into the ground.” Lifting the second piece, he held it like a club in his hand. “There’s mud stains on this one—which I decided to bring back and match to the various area’s where Sawyer had claimed to have seen tracks.”

Wendell looked up, confused.

“He’s been making tracks around the village, Wendell! Going around with these things, making tracks where he needed to back his stories. Creating fear.” He gripped the wood so tightly, Wendell could hear his knuckles pop. “Creating opportunity.”

“You think Sawyer has gone to all this trouble so…he could get close to Elsa?”

“What I think I have, Wendell is proof of…”

“Nothin,” grumbled a low voice.

Both Jan and Wendell flipped around and stumbled up to their feet as four looming figures emerged from the shadows. Jan’s hand flashed, drawing the large knife from his side.

Each of the burly men also carried a weapon, the largest of which brandishing a sword, his large bow slung over one shoulder.

“Mailian,” Wendell gasped, though he wasn’t overly surprised.

The trapper looked to his brothers, then back at Wendell. “Do we know each other, boy?”

Wendell tried his best to glare back at the man, in the dim light…and being unarmed. “I know enough about you.”

As they entered, the smallest of the four whispered something odd under his breath, and a stone flared to life in the palm of his hand. Shaped closer to a cylinder, the stone produced a sickly yellow light.

Holding it overhead, he inspected their surroundings, taking notice of the fire damaged floor behind them. “Watch yer step now, lads. Don’t want anyone to fall.”

Mailian gave Wendell a wolfish smile. “Not by accident, anyway.”

Jan pushed Wendell slowly past the window and towards the stairway. Circling the Näk-Täni on the floor, the lumberjack kept his long knife at the ready, his stance low. The trappers followed suit, though in a much more relaxed state, rotating their position and keeping their weapons trained on their prey.

“You boys have become a bit if a problem,” Mailian said matter-of-fact. “One that has jeopardized our livelihood.” He waved the end of his sword at them, “Not a good choice on your part.”

Pushing Wendell again towards the stairs, Jan glanced briefly out the window, “What do you want?”

The trapper brandishing a long spear knelt down to inspect the drawstring bag. “I’m thinking these will be a good start,” he said, snatching up the two wolf legs on the floor. Handing them to Mailian, Varick stood upright and lowered his spear at Jan. “Followed by your disappearance is my guess.”

Sheathing his sword, Mailian motioned for light and inspected both the legs. Dropping to one knee, he examined the remaining contents in the bag.

He frowned deeply. “Gentlemen, it seems we have a problem.” Sliding both the wolf legs into his belt, he tossed the bag into the corner of the loft. “You both know too much.”

“Run!” Jan hissed, pushing Wendell towards the stairwell.

A tightly woven net came from nowhere, spinning through the shadows, directly over the lumberjack. Without hesitation, Varick stepped forward and swung the end of his spear across Jan’s head.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP!

“NO!” Gathering his will, Wendell turned back into the room and opened his mouth to cast his spell.

That’s precisely when the wooden plank cracked him across the head and knocked him to the floor.

****

A soft groan escaped Wendell’s lips.

He would have made a much louder noise, but the monkey orchestra continued to bleat out their song in his head.

A white gorilla whacked the base drum with over enthusiasm, followed by a chalkboard nail-scratching solo.

Why the head, he flinched, why is it always the head? Can’t anyone have the decency of shoving me so I stub a toe or maybe bruise a knee?

I like my head!

I eat with my face and talk with my face, I try hard to listen to others with my ears, yet for some reason the universe keeps whacking me in the head!

Wendell tried to lift his head and immediately winced.

Ohhhhhhhh! Bad idea, Wendell.

We like our head right where it is.

Let’s leave it, okay?

Yeah. Connected to our shoulders. Wow, that was a hard smack. Lay still.

Taking it slow, he lowered his head back down. The cold stone softly kissed his throbbing temple.

Yeah, let’s lay still for a looooooong time, shall we?

Hands tied behind his back, Wendell tugged—discovering his legs were also bound.

Tightly.

…which didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

From all the movies and TV shows he’d seen since he was a kid, Wendell never did understand the purpose of tying someone’s legs tightly.

Sure, you should bind their wrists,…their arms, maybe. Goodness knows there are plenty of people in this world who should be gagged, but the feet?

…tightly??

If I can’t get my arms free, what hope would I have of freeing my legs? Why not allow a captive at least a modicum of comfort in a desperate situation?

Oh, right, cause it wasn’t a nice person who hit you in the noggin in the first place, Wendell.

Duh.

Still, binding someone’s legs tightly was just mean.

…much like whacking someone on the back of the head.

Humph. So I can’t sit up.

In fact, Wendell couldn’t talk either—at least not with the gag in his mouth.

So I’m one of THOSE people? When was the last time I cried out for help?

Why was he even asking himself such questions?

Never mind.

His joints ached, especially his back, but his head throbbed with the intensity of a teenager whining for a new cell phone.

Ithari?

Ithari, are you there?

Nothing.

He made a mental note to figure out what created those connections with Ithari, and what severed them.

Again the scratching sound. Nails on a chalk—

With great trepidation, an eyelid allowed a slit of light into the confines of his retina.

“Ungh,” Wendell grunted aloud, wincing.

Turns out the scratching sound wasn’t a chalkboard after all.

It was just a stone scraping over the edge of a knife.

Sawyer sat in front of an open fire, sharpening a long knife braced across his knee. The flickering light of the yellow flames made the curly red hair on his head glow ominously about him, deepening the shadows of his face.

Calloused hands scraped the large stone over the blades edge, stopping only to spit on its surface.

Ohhhhh goodie, Wendell complained, Things just keep getting better and better. He bit down on the cloth gag in frustration.

“You know this is your fault,” Sawyer said calmly. His eyes remained focused on the blade in his hands.

Wendell forced himself to blink several times to moisten his eyes. The position he was in didn’t allow a full view of his surroundings.

For now, all he knew for certain was that he’d been tied up, was in what looked to be a cave, and was the hostage of a strong and ever-angry redheaded psychopath with bad breath and even worse teeth.

“None of this would have happened if you’d just minded your own business,” Sawyer continued, again without looking up. “Things were going so well before you showed up. Elsa counted on me to walk her home, to keep her safe from these wolves. So I got to spend time with her every day. I got…” He grinned to himself, “to be her hero. Her…protector, and everybody in town knew it. They knew I was the one keeping the village gem safe.”

Gem? There’s a gem? Ohhh, right. Elsa.

Sawyer snorted, “Even those stupid kids were starting to like me.”

Yeahhhhh, no. They don’t like you at all, buddy. You just didn’t want to see it. Wendell tugged at the ropes behind his back.

Come ON Ithari—I need your HELP here. Grant me strength, so I can break these bonds!!

Ugnnnnnnnn!! The fibers of the rope bit his flesh as he struggled.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

Sliding from the rock he was sitting on, Sawyer swooped forward in one swift motion, tumbling the blade nimbly across his fingers and driving it into the dirt—uncomfortably close to Wendell’s nose.

“But that all changed when you poked your nose where it didn’t belong!” For a long moment, Sawyer sneered at Wendell, holding the stare without blinking.

Wendell gulped hard.

Psycho-boy is mad now. Very, very mad.

“You did know it,” Sawyer grinned then, “but we hate mägo around here, “ lips pulling back to reveal his stained and crooked teeth. He patted Wendell’s face roughly and then pushed back up to his knees. “Don’t deny it. I saw what you did. Turning against your own kind and healing that beast, instead of the wounded men!”

Crap. He saw me.

Dropping forward again, Sawyer took his thick index finger and jabbed it forcefully against the emblem on Wendell’s shoulder. “But I woulda figured it out eventually with that thing on your clothes, always sticking’ out its tongue at me!”

Ohhhh…dang it.

Sawyer lowered the finger to point down at Wendell, “And if that thing sticks it’s tongue out at me one more time, I’m gonna cut yours out.”

Wendell’s lips wrapped around the gag in his mouth tightly.

Yanking the blade free, Sawyer stood up abruptly and walked out of view.

“Not that it matters. You won’t be around to bother me or anyone else much longer.” Rough hands grabbed Wendell under his armpits from behind and pulled him up into a sitting position. Hot, putrid breath hit his cheek as Sawyer whispered, “And knowing that I’m ending one of your kind makes this all the sweeter.”

No matter how hard Wendell tried, he just couldn’t work the gag from his mouth. It always looked so stupid in the movies—and he’d wondered why victims didn’t push tied cloth from their mouth with their tongue?

Cause it didn’t work, that’s why.

The cloth was tied so tight, it made his jaw ache.

But that wasn’t the worst part. The gag was…making him gag.

Maybe it was the oily residue slowly dripping over his tongue, or the growing stink from his own saliva mixed with who-knows-what-hadn’t-been-washed.

Either way, Wendell had a growing urge to vomit.

Tongue sore from pressing against the cloth, he finally gave up and focused instead on breathing through his mouth and not through his nose.

Focus, Wendell. You’re going to get out of here. Something will present itself. It always does.

He gulped roughly.

I hope.

He was, indeed, in a small cave. He could hear the rushing of the river echoing faintly against the walls around him.

I guess he didn’t care about coming here if I’m the only one who knows about it.

But Wendell wasn’t the only one who knew.

“MMMMPH!!”

He watched light trickle in and then fade out from a small crevasse covered by brush. It wasn’t an accurate calculation of time, but from his own butt going numb, he was guessing he’d been trapped for a couple hours. The fire was at the caves center, while tools and goods lined the rock wall to his left.

Pots, pans, blankets now rolled and stacked to keep the limited floor space clear.  There was barely enough room for two people to maneuver. Propped up against the cave opening were a handful of various sized spears, while game hung from hooks overhead. Most were small—rabbits and various foul, ready to be robbed of their plumage.

“MMMMPH!!” he grunted again.

What have they done with Jan?!!

The cave was small, quiet, efficient and looked…

Lonely.

Wendell couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life Sawyer had led to become what he was today?

What happened in his life that made him so angry?

He’d tried to make peace. He’d tried to strike up a friendship, even offered gifts, but Jan had been right—Sawyer just wouldn’t have it. Whatever Wendell tried didn’t seem to work because Sawyer was focused on Elsa.

She was the key.

Nothing wrong with liking a girl. Not even a lot.

Wendell could relate.

As much as he hated to admit, it hurt to see Lili and know that she was indifferent towards him.

No matter what he tried, he just couldn’t seem to grab her attention or earn her approval.

Why do you do this, Wendell? Thinking about her just hurts.

Let it go!

For crying out loud, FOCUS!!

You’re in a horrible situation that needs your undivided attention, stupid!

The one thing that caught Wendell’s attention, was a specific set of poles leaning against the rocks on the opposite side of the cave. About rib height, these poles had unusual body parts fixed to one end.

Wolf parts. Just like the one Jan had pulled from the bag.

Having gotten so close to the Alpha male, Wendell recognized the wolf paws…attached to the carved pieces of wood. Wood that could be held in each hand, allowing one to stab those paws into the ground to create prints.

Others were fixed in positions to allow for swiping motions with extended claws.

Sawyer, eating the last of his meal, followed Wendell’s gaze.

“Not a ridge-wolf,” he said bluntly. “Just your average variety of annoying canine in these parts.”

“Mmph,” replied Wendell.

“What’s that?” Sawyer frowned.

Wendell jabbed his head in the direction of the mock paws, “Mmmph!”

Setting his dish down, Sawyer stepped around the open flame and tugged at the gag. “Don’t make me regret this.” He slid his long knife from its sheath. “I hear a single word exit your mouth that I don’t understand, I’ll cut you deep. Understand? No one can hear you out here.”

Wendell nodded.

A few tugs got the gag free.

Wendell gasped loudly, taking in several gulps of air. Opening his mouth wide, he stretched the muscles in his face.  “What have you done with Jan?”

Sawyer turned his back and snatched up his food. “I haven’t done nothing with that bully.”

“Bully?” Wendell snorted, “Says the kidnapper holding me hostage at knifepoint.”

“Exactly.”

Wendell’s stomach sank. For goodness sakes, you could have lied to me!

“You probably don’t believe me, but I never intended to get in your way, Sawyer. In fact, I was trying to do everything I could to make peace with you and get out of your way…”

Making fists and straining against the ropes binding him, Wendell held the tension.

“You’re right,” Sawyer replied coldly. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not? I haven’t stayed at the house in weeks. I don’t spend time with Elsa or even the children for that matter, unless I’ve come to town.” Which wasn’t the exact truth.

It wasn’t like Wendell was going out of his way to get closer to the girl. He’d noticed Jan’s interest early on and made sure not to give any wrong impressions.

“The only times you’ve seen me around her were the times you beat me up…and took my money.”

Trying to keep a plain expression on his face, he pulled at his elbows, straining to create a gap between his wrists.

“So this whole jealousy thing doesn’t even make sense. I’m no threat to you and I have no interest in Elsa.”

“Oh,” Sawyer spat, “so now she’s not good enough for you, is that it?”

Wendell’s head flopped back against the stone. “Oh for…do you hear yourself? This isn’t about Elsa at all! I didn’t come to this village to meet a girl. I was looking for a job, Sawyer. A JOB! Hopefully to learn a skill as a carver. Elsa introduced me to Silas O’Brien, he hired me, I moved to his home the next day. End of story.”

Sawyer growled from his chest, “The next…day?”

Wendell rolled his eyes. “You’re hopeless. You’re so busy being mad at things that don’t exist, you don’t see the truth. That’s why you keep pushing stories.” Wendell nodded again to the wolf paws. “You created the tracks around Elsa’s house to create panic. To get Elsa to worry—maybe the whole town to worry. That created the need for you to walk her home.”

Sawyer took a huge scoop of his food into his mouth and grinned. After chewing the bite, he swallowed. “Smart, huh?”

Wendell shrugged, pulling even harder on his bonds. “If you say so.”

“It was working!” Tossing the bowl to the dirt, Sawyer snatched one of the wolf paws and shook the pole in front of Wendell. “I found this after following a bear I was trying to trap. Thought with a big kill the men of the village would be more likely to hire me,…or at least buy my pelts. So I followed the beast higher up into the woods. It got in a scrape with an old wolf wandering into the wrong territory. Without a pack to back it up, the bear won. When it wandered off to lick its wounds, I saw an opportunity.”

“To lie to the girl you care about.”

“To have a chance to talk with her!” Sawyer growled. Shaking the pole, “This thing let me create a way to show I cared, to give me time to talk to Elsa and be of help to her.”

Wendell blinked twice. “Again…by lying? How does that work in your mind, Sawyer? If you like the girl so much, why not be a real hero and choose to do nice things for her?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is. Just find out what she needs and…”

“It’s NOT,” Sawyer snapped, “that simple.” He took several breaths, letting the tension and frustration go. “I’ve worn out the trust I had in Putäyäl. People don’t ever look at me the same now. Not after…,” he faded off.

“Take it from a guy who has always been on the outside, no matter what people think of you, it can be changed. It’s just that sometimes…it takes longer than we might hope it would.”

Sawyer shook his head and snorted. “People don’t forget when you screw up. People always remember what you’ve done wrong far longer than what you might do right.”

Wendell clenched his teeth and took a deep breath through his nose.

“Yeah,” he said in a calmer tone. “Yeah, they do. I’ve screwed up an awful lot in my life—so I can’t argue that point. But I also know that if someone has a bad opinion of you, whether it’s true or not, the only way to change it, is to be something else.” He swallowed hard, “To be someone else.”

Taking a deep breath, all Wendell could see in the back of his mind was a kind, happy, smiling Lili.

“We have to be that person you WANT them to see in you—and be it for so long that when they try to recall the bad things you’ve done, they simply can’t remember it.”

Looking up to meet Sawyers gaze, “Change the way people look at us, by changing the people we are. It sounds impossible, but it’s not. It just takes…time.” He tried to offer a smile, but it came across weak. “Sometimes a really, really long time. But if you want to change the opinions about you, then behave in a new way long enough until that’s all people will remember.”

Not that he agreed with Sawyers tactics—but Wendell knew what it was like to feel awkward. To be rejected by people he cared about and wanted to be around. It was heartbreaking to be rejected because you weren’t good enough in someone else’s eyes.

“Lying isn’t the way, Sawyer. You get that, right? If anyone ever found out that you were the one making the tracks, or killing those animals in town, you’d never be trusted again.”

Sawyer’s anger vanished. “What are you talking about? I didn’t kill anyone’s animals. I didn’t kill anything in this village.”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

“What?”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Wendell paused, “You didn’t kill the animals to make it look like the wolves attacked them?”

“That’s what I said, idiot. You think I would harm the people I live among by killing their main food supplies…just to get Elsa’s attention? Besides, those hides were ripped back to reveal the skeletons and organs.”

“Is that common for wolves to do that?”

Sawyer smirked, “Not that I know of. So don’t look at me—that was the doing of your hounds.”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Yeah, Wendell thought to himself, There has to be more to this. “Sawyer, I didn’t bring these wolves with me.”

He scoffed, “Says the mägo who healed a wolf that attacked a human.”

Wendell snorted, “Accuses the guy who kidnapped and intends to murder the mägo who healed a wolf—being attacked by trappers and was wounded while defending itself. Not the same thing.”

Sawyer frowned, a genuine look of confusion on his face. “Murder? I ain’t gonna kill you.”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

“So I’m here to what? Keep you company as you eat? You said you were going to kill me, Sawyer!”

“Never said that,” the redhead clarified. A coldness washed over his features. “I said ‘end’ you, which is a far cry from murder.”

Now it was Wendell who looked confused. “But you…”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

A cold chill filled the cave. A coolness which pierced the mägoweave Wendell was wrapped in.

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Crawling up the side of the cave wall behind Sawyer, rose a jagged shadow.

Wendell’s eyes grew wide.

THERE YOU ARE, BOY.

Sawyer leaned closer to Wendell, his dirty grin growing uncomfortably wide. “I’m going to let your buddies out there—the wolves—do the killing, not me.”

“Sawyer…,” Wendell stammered.

The shadow grew taller, reaching up to the ceiling of the arched stone.

“I’ll just set up the tracks to create opportunity. You came along and brought death with you, so I’m just returning the favor.”

“Sawyer.”

Flipping the pole over, Sawyer gingerly inspected the paw, pulling dirt and grass from under the claws. “Since you got here, I noticed that the wolves came at night. Wherever you go, they show up—and they seem to have a killer appetite.”

Giving the spear a solid shake in his hand, “So I’ll take you to the edge of the community, just out of earshot, and give you a few good wounds for measure. Offer you to your hungry friends.” Sawyer grinned a bit too wide, “From what I’ve seen of the village livestock, they should make quick end of you.”

A black tentacle-like arm appeared over Sawyers right shoulder, rising upward into view.

Wendell gulped. He snapped his attention to Sawyer. “That’s PROBably not going to work.”

“Why not,” growled Sawyer.

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

“Well, as you said, those wolves are here because of me. So what makes you think that putting me out in the woods is going to ‘end’ me?”

Hah, got you there, sucker!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

From the crook of Sawyers neck, a tattered hood appeared, rising higher and higher until the robes mass could encompass the young man’s.’

“Maybe,” Sawyer replied slyly, “but this was all done to put the target on the wolves in the first place. Besides, I’ve watched wolves turn on their own kind when blood’s involved. The hunger eats at them until they rend a pack member to pieces. They don’t like weak.”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

I can’t. I can’t let it get him!

“Sawyer,” Wendell shrieked, “Behind—” then he choked. “Wait. What did you say…?”

The redhead leaned in far too close for comfort, then jutted his thumb over his shoulder. Sawyers eyes were bloodshot with a dash of not-in-his-right-mind.

“He’s with me.”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Wendell’s expression washed clean, his face draining of color.

HELLO BOY.

The wicked grin grew. “We’re going to give the villagers evidence they can’t deny.”

The redhead then shrugged his shoulders, “And if your pals don’t do the job, well…there are plenty of other beasts still lurking in the forest who won’t hesitate to attack after smelling fresh blood. Same results.”

Wendell reversed the direction of the tension in his bonds, rough fibers biting into his flesh. “You’re just going to leave me out there?”

Sawyer shrugged, “Almost.”

“Almost?” he scoffed, “You don’t even care, do you? That you’ll be killing an innocent person?” Wendell relaxed his wrists. The ropes slackened. “Someone’s going to find this cave, Sawyer. Jan already did. You think someone else won’t eventually? You’re going to be found out.”

The redhead didn’t even pause, “Not gonna happen.”

Kneeling upright, he looked over his shoulder and gave the robe an acknowledgment. “This thing here and me have a deal, an’ so far it’s kept it’s end of the agreement. All it wanted was you.”

YOU.

“Me?” Wendell slipped his shaking hands from the rope, trying hard not to make any sudden moves. “Why me?”

“Why should I care,” Sawyer said in a dial tone. “I was here in the cave, making plans, and it appears to me. Granted it can scare you bad—but it knew. At a time when nothing was working, nothing was going my way—it appeared to me, telling me I could have what I wanted in exchange for helping it get to you.”

Walking to the long table, Sawyer adjusted the wolf carvings displayed from shortest to longest, and then took up his long knife.

Running his thumb along the edge, “Clever thing, this. It knew what I really wanted. What I needed to have happen. Understood me, and what Elsa meant to me—so we came up with a plan. A plan to frame the wolves and you at the same time.”

Wendell watched the robe float behind Sawyer, as if replacing his own natural shadow. Every move the redhead made, the blackness mimicked.

…but the gaping blackness of the hood stayed locked on Wendell, looking over Sawyers shoulder..

Sawyer tapped the flatness of the blade against a knuckle. “The wolves are drawn to it. Don’t know why, don’t really care…but it moves much faster, especially if shadows are connected. So it wasn’t hard to craft a story the village would believe.”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THIS BOY IS DELISCIOUSLY WICKED.

Wendell looked to Sawyer, “Since the robe was hunting me and the wolves were hunting it—all it had to do was stay close to me. The whole thing looks like I’m summoning wolves.”

Sawyer glanced over his shoulder, “Exactly.”

The robe floated close to Sawyers ear, the edges of the hood trembling in silence. Sawyer listened carefully to something, then nodded.

“And the animals?”

The robe drew back. “Once I’d created the fake tracks, the animals were slaughtered as needed. All I had to do was set up the lie and walk away. The killing was all done for me.”

Wendell gulped, “Done for you?”

Again the wicked smile glared down at Wendell, “How could I possibly say no?”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

“But what about killing the villagers’ main food supply?!” he blurted out. “By your hand, either directly or indirectly—I’m going to die, Sawyer!”

Sawyer stepped to the entrance and pulled back and hanging brush, the robe floating behind him. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? I don’t know you. Why would I care about someone I don’t know, much less a mägo?” Wendell watched his lips pull back into another sneer, making his profile look animalistic. “This all started because of your kind anyway…”

That caught Wendell’s attention. “My…kind?”

Sawyer continued to stare out the opening, his gaze drawn to the near black sky. “No one wants magic here. It’s unnatural.”

Wendell couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “You tell me this while in league with a twisted perversion of magic.”

Sawyer looked back over his shoulder, his eyes bouncing between Wendell and the robe. All he gave was an uninterested shrug.

“There was never a voice that dared speak up against the Mayers. The mill was the heart of Putäyäl and many of the men worked for Camber. So when it turned out his only son was studying magic, the village wanted him gone, but no one would say a word. Not out loud, anyway.”

Using his fingers, Wendell felt about his body without looking down. Come on…there has to be something to use! “Why do I have a feeling you did something about it,, Sawyer?”

Hands gripping the stone entrance Sawyer squeezed until his knuckles turned white in the firelight. “I told Vall that if he didn’t leave, bad things would happen. The town didn’t want him. They didn’t want magic. They didn’t want…”

“What they didn’t understand,” Wendell finished.

“Yeah,” Sawyer replied, though his tone didn’t sound so harsh. “So when he didn’t leave, I waited until there was another storm. We get them often enough up here, so I didn’t have to wait long. Luckily I could use lightening as an excuse…”

Wendell stopped struggling. “Excuse for what?”

TO BE WHAT ONE NEEDS TO BE, GNOLAUM.

Sawyer spun around like a mountain cat. “I did what I was told to do! I didn’t have family anymore—no one to watch over me or to join with. Didn’t have a place anymore in this village. People didn’t CARE about me—just how they could use me! Plus Vall was always with Elsa, telling’ her who was good to be around, an’ who wasn’t!”

“…and you weren’t one of the people she was told we’re good.”

Sawyers face tensed, fighting contortions while his hands repeatedly opened and closed, forming fists. “The men used me…then they blamed me! No one could prove I did what I did, but…” he stopped, eyes hazing over.

Wendell’s gut sank. “You set fire to the mill.”

Sawyer nodded. “I didn’t want to hurt Vall. For all he was, he never talked down to me. He…,” swallowing, “wasn’t a bad guy.”

Now it was Wendell who sneered. “Just bad enough to abuse and threaten and frame and drive away from his family? From his life?”

Fist pounding on rock, “They told me to hurt him. Beat him to an inch of his life. But I said no. Thought instead that I could make things harder on the family and he’d get the hint.”

Wendell nodded, “And he got the hint, didn’t he.”

So you’re not as bad of a person as you think you are, Sawyer. Messed up in the head, maybe, but you’re not a killer.

Of course, that wasn’t completely true. Wendell was in a mess of a situation.

So long as you aren’t the one doing the killing, anyway.

Sawyer nodded again, “Vall left in the middle of the night. Didn’t leave word where he was going, just that he wanted to practice magic. That’s what they told us, anyway. Took a few weeks, but Camber went back to work, to fixing the mill. But things just got worse…” his eyes refocused on Wendell.

“Elsa was attacked by a bear while her mother was looking for trees to harvest.” He swallowed dryly, “Which was usually Vall’s job.”

He looked away then.

“He’d use his magic to keep the predators away. Something his mother couldn’t do…and she died in that attack. Her father followed soon after…and in a few short weeks, she was all alone. Elsa had no one.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched tight, “She lost her family, ‘cause of me. It’s my fault and the people of this cursed village know it. If I hadn’t done what I did to the mill, hadn’t listened to the threats of the men around me and chased of Vall, the Mayer family would still BE here.”

His fists remained clenched, bloodshot eyes locked fervently on Wendell, “So don’t tell me the people of this village are gonna forgive the one who ruined their lives and their ability to put food on their tables!”

Lifting the long knife out to the side, cold black tentacles wrapped round the hilt, lifting it from Sawyers grip. “This has all been planned out. Every account will be paid in full.”

Wendell frowned, “What are you talking about?”

The robe rose high over both of them, firelight glinting off the long blade.

Sawyers face was unnervingly calm, a genuine smile on his lips. “The man who forced me to burn the mill lost the son who beat me into submission. Those who kept silent and even denied Elsa help when her parents died, lost their livestock. Every detail has been accounted for.” The smile grew wider, “Including how your body will be found.”

THIS IS THE END, YOUNG HERO.

Large hands reached out gripping Wendell’s shoulders to lift him to his feet.

…and the knife sank deep into flesh.

Letting the rope slide to the floor, the young hero snapped his arms out, wrapping them around Sawyers torso. Pushing back against him with all his might, Wendell fought to keep his balance—but his feet where still tied.

“No, no, no,” he grunted under the strain, the redhead bearing down on him. “Please no,” Wendell choked out, panicking.

Ithari, reaching out in desperation, HELP ME!!

Wendell fell backwards against the rock wall, his hands and arms growing hot and sticky.

Sawyers eyes, still locked on Wendell, slowly rolled up into his head.

His smile never faded as his body collapsed.

“WHY!?!” Wendell screamed, pulling himself out from under his captor, “He said they would find MY body!”

Hovering above them both, the robe swayed unnaturally, the flicker of fire light granting eerie dimensions to its form.

THEY WILL, HERO

The voice resonated in Wendell’s skull, loud and clear.

HOVERING OVER HIS.

Wendell kicked his legs free of the rope, rolled up to his knees and pulled the long knife from Sawyers back.