CHAPTER 9

PREDATORS

Many are afraid of the dark.

Children especially.

It’s not that the dark can harm you, because it can’t.

That’s why it’s silly to say that we’re afraid of the dark at all.

Truth is, none of us are afraid of the dark itself.

It’s what’s IN the dark we don’t want to discover.

“You get home quickly, you hear me Elsa?” Giving Wendell a chest deep growl, “This one’s already kept you out too late and half the fires have gone out.”

Wendell kept his mouth clenched tight. He wiped his hot, still soapy hands on his britches.

“I’ll be fine, Mayson,” Elsa smiled daintily. “I promise.” She patted the tavern owners hand as she stepped through the doorway and into the snow. “I have Wendell to walk me home and keep me safe.”

Mayson looked Wendell up and down, then snorted, “Quickly.”

“I’m really sorry about this,” Wendell moaned, embarrassed, “I…”

“Shoulda checked yer coat fer coin beFORE ya ordered, that’s whatcha shoulda done!”

Elsa’s gaze narrowed. “He’s paid his debt, Mayson. In full. You had him wash every dish, platter and mug in the tavern. He didn’t complain OR try to skip out on you when your back was turned. You have no right to put him down.” Her hands went to her hips in a motherly fashion, as if scolding a child. “I even offered to pay for his meal from my own wages.”

Mayson scoffed again, “I’ll have none of that! You do enough for this town and for those little ones…I’ll not have growling bellies on my conscious too!” Waving his arm, he swung the door closed, “Now git home!”

The heavy door shut with a thunk…a latch falling loudly into place.

Wendell started at the badger carving in the center of the red wood door and let out a heavy sigh. “He doesn’t like me.”

Elsa’s laugh was quick and musical. The light reflecting from the snow made her skin look like cream, her hair like spun gold. She laced her arm casually through Wendell’s. “Mayson acts like he doesn’t like anyone. It’s a trick. He’s one of the nicest men in this village and was one of my fathers oldest friends. Mayson thinks that by being gruff, it’ll be easier to not hurt so many feelings if he has to be rude or ask for money.”

“This…happens often?”

“People not paying? No. Wellll, not as such. Folks ‘round here have hard times like most—and some run up a tab quickly. Men tend to drown their troubles. Mayson doesn’t like to withhold from his neighbors, but he will collect debts owed, one way or another. A meal isn’t a big deal—you were fortunate to wander in near the end of the night when the kitchen was piled with dishes. Mayson’s had men rebuilding walls, replacing windows, relaying the floors or repacking the sod roof…depends on what he needs done.”

Well I’ll be… “So I shouldn’t feel bad.”

She rolled her eyes, “Goodness no.”

The sound of snow crunching underfoot echoed loudly, bouncing off the log home walls and narrow passage between them as they walked. Patrons were gone, The Den was closed for the night and it seemed even the wind had decided to go to sleep. Wendell and Elsa walked along the main path, which wound around a large central orchard. Only two of the village fires continued to burn in the distance, casting a half-hearted light.

“I still feel sorry to have kept you out so late.”

Elsa chuckled. “You don’t have to apologize. That….”

“See, you didn’t have to worry—there he is, safe and sound.” The high-pitched voice bounced off the snow.

Tha-THUMP-Thump!

Wendell flipped his head around, peering between two of the meager buildings.

Nothing.

“…was fast thinking, volunteering to do the dishes and sweep up after everyone was gone. I think Mayson was genuinely shocked. It’s strange to him that someone your age took responsibility for themselves and didn’t just run.”

“No, I will not keep my voice down,” came the voice again, now from another location. “He can’t see us, unless you do something stupid.” There was a lengthy pause, and then softer, “Which I realize is highly likely…”

Elsa tugged lightly on Wendell’s sleeve, causing him to start, “Something wrong?”

“What?” Wendell replied with a gasp. Body tense and ears perked back, he gave her an awkward grin. The kind with too many teeth.

“Are you okay?” Elsa replied, now looking between Wendell and over her own shoulder. “You realize Mason was actually mumbling to himself about you.”

Wendell blinked once, his eyes darting about them. There were no signs of movement…anywhere. Where is that voice coming from?? He then turned to look Elsa full in the face. “Did you hear that?”

She frowned, “Hear what?”

Wendell looked over his shoulder again, “That…voice.”

“Voice?” Elsa laughed, “I was talking about Old Mayson. He was annoyed that he didn’t have more to complain about. I think you impressed him.” Then she added, “If he’s upset about anything, it’s because I volunteered to take you in.”

Wendell’s steps faltered then, “Uhh, about that. Um. Are you…sure your parents are going to be alright with a boy showing up? In the middle of the night? To, ya know…sleep in your house?”

Elsa threaded long locks over her right ear with her fingers. “You don’t pay attention too well, do you.”

“Sorry?”

She made a sound like a grunt…only more dainty. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Here’s the short version: My parents are gone. They passed away a few years ago, when I was little. First my mom. It’s how I…,” lightly brushing a finger across the scar on her cheek, “got this. My dad passed soon after. The village is all I know and I didn’t have any other family to fall back on, so I started working for Mayson. I have my family’s home and business, so I took in the other orphans of the community.”

Elsa took another breath and let it out in one gush.

Wendell felt a tinge of pain in his chest. “You’re…the local orphanage?”

She nodded, “Mostly. Just felt to take in the younger kids. They didn’t have anywhere to go either. Most of the families here, they…don’t know what to do with us.” She looked up at him, and noticed the concern on his face. “Good part is, it’s nice not to be alone. Three boys and two girls—and all of them are smart, sweet, and helpful. I treat them like my siblings and it works.” But she sighed then, “Well enough, anyway.

Elsa pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and gave Wendell’s arm a quick friendly squeeze. “We always have room for another lost…”

Tha-Thump-Thump.

“Elsa!”

Wendell stopped short.

The large burly bear, sporting the face of a redheaded man trudged out into the main path from between two cottages. Head tilted forward, the large fur hood hung over his brow, his features fading into view as he stepped into the reflective light.

Wonderful, Wendell swallowed hard. It just isn’t my night.

Tha-Thump-Thump.

Why do you always start talking when I’m about to get my butt handed to me?

Tha-Thump-Thump.

We really need to come up with a pre-signal system Ithari, so I can do something different, like, I don’t know…NOT BE HERE?!?

Elsa smiled kindly. “Hello Sawyer. Why are you out so late? I thought…”

“Waiting for you!” Sawyer snapped, the words hissing through closed teeth. The tone had an irritated, quivering frustration behind them. The cold of the night made his heavy breathing look a lot like a snorting bull, ready to charge. “I was,” but he caught himself. Jaw clenching, he bit down on his own lip before answering, “worried about you, Elsa.” He ignored Wendell directly, though his eyes flashed over their linked arms.

“When the guys left, I stayed back and waited for you, but you didn’t come out.” His expression softened, “Hours I waited. Then…I had to go help them. You know there’s been another attack tonight. Tracks say it’s another wolf.”

Elsa absentmindedly gripped Wendell’s arm tighter. “Where? Was anyone hurt?” Wide eyes darted down the dark path towards her home.

“Near the tannery. It…killed one of Austin’s goats.” Sawyer shuddered, “Tore its throat out like it was…” His stare suddenly shifted towards Wendell, his voice dropping to a near growl, “And I wanted to make sure you got home safe…like I have every night.”

Elsa shook her head, her stare becoming distant. “It didn’t go after the sheep?” One of her hands rose to touch the scar on her cheek.

“Not this time.”

“Did anyone see the beast? Where it went?”

“No.”

“Why would a ridge-wolf…” she glanced up.

“I don’t know!” Sawyer snapped, his hands opening and clenching repeatedly.

Elsa took a step back, releasing her grip on Wendell’s arm.

Tha-Thump-Thump.

Wendell’s stomach tightened into knots. All this talk about some wild beast ripping up animals and who knows what else this big guy isn’t sharing is grossing me out. It was also starting to freak him out. Sawyer was at least twice, if not three time Wendell’s size, with arms like tree trunks and fists the size of anvils.

He obviously likes Elsa, which he could understand—Elsa was a nice person. Cute, smart. He swallowed. …and I just got in his way.

Tha-THUMP-Thump!

Someone should start giving out awards for bad timing. I’d be a gold medalist.

But did that even matter? A simple glance at Elsa and Wendell could tell the feelings were not reciprocated. Every step Sawyer made was met by a retreating step by her.

Even in the dim light, Wendell could see the slight shifting of Sawyers weight from one leg to the other.

Just because you like someone doesn’t mean you have the right to act like…like…an animal. It was something he’d seen time and again growing up. Jocks of his school acted like the girls they dated were property. Treated them like they  had no mind or will of their own—and if anything was outside the jocks realm of acceptance, they would pummel Wendell senseless.

The major difference here, was Wendell had no teachers, no principle…not even a cop to stop a fight if it went too far.

The hair on the back of Wendell’s neck went up.

This is not going to end well.

Tha-Thump-Thump.

Thanks a whole lot. Didn’t need you to figure that one out.

Elsa tugged at Wendell’s sleeve. “Can we go? I don’t want to be outside anymore. Thank you Sawyer, for…”

She turned to leave, but Sawyer quickly shuffled around to cut them off.

“What? You think this guy can protect you?” Stepping  closer to Wendell, Sawyer rolled his shoulders back—hands curling into fists. “Look at him, Elsa—he’s nothing! Small, skinny…besides, I’ve been the one watching out for you, haven’t I?” The only soft word that left Sawyer’s lips was her name. The rest, swallowed up in a growl matched the red in his eyes—the reflection of the last flicker of the nearby fire. “I’ll make sure you get home safe tonight, Elsa. You don’t have to worry.”

He stepped forward, grabbing a firm hold of Elsa’s wrist. “I’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”

Flinching away, Elsa tugged at his grip. “Sawyer, you’re hurting me. Ow! What’s wrong with…”

Without thinking, Wendell stepped between them, his torso breaking the large man’s grip and sending Elsa stumbling backwards.

“Don’t.”

Steel hands gripped Wendell’s jacket, pulling him off balance…and like a car accident, everything shifted into slow motion.

Tha-Thump-Thump.

Elsa shrieked as Wendell flew through the air.

Considering how much snow had fallen, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. Unfortunately Sawyer wasn’t aiming for the mounds of snow.

He was aiming at the cottage just beyond it.

Wendell’s shoulders hit first, the weight and speed of his body compacting his spine like an accordion.

“WUFF!” he grunted, as the air jumped from his lungs.

Like a rock, he thumped to the ground, face first into a pile of compact snow and ice.

“Wendell!” Elsa cried out, but her words were too slow in coming.

It took Wendell a moment before he could raise his head weakly from the snow mound. Uhhhh. That…hurt.

Hands gripped the back of his jacked, yanking him from the snow—and spinning him around.

It was then that Wendell, even in the flurry of movement and pain, realized an aspect of mägoweave that he hated. If only the cold of the snow and ice could have numbed his face before Sawyer split it open with his knuckles.

Over and over his head flipped backwards upon impact, straining against his neck and shoulders. He didn’t remember being hit this hard before.

Sure, jocks in high school usually used their fists to do this.

…they didn’t use trucks.

Whack. Whack. WHACK!

Flecks of red blurred his vision.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” boomed a voice through the darkness of the forest’s edge.

The flecks abruptly swerved away from Wendells face.

“Put that boy down now, or you’ll deal with me, Sawyer.” Though the words were spoken calmly—there was no mistaking their authority.

Fingers opened. Wendell collapsed to the ground with a heavy moan onto his chest.

Small hands grabbed at him, turning him onto his back. Running over his arms and shoulders, they softly worked their way up to his swollen face. Elsa whispered behind her tears, “I’m so sorry—I don’t know what…” she choked, “I’m so, so…sorry.”

“I’ll be alright,” Wendell tried to assure her, but he gagged on his own words, swallowing saliva mixed with blood. One of his lids burned like fire, split wide open, blood draining into his eye. The other had swollen shut completely. “I heal quickly.”

Elsa sobbed.

“Get home, Sawyer,” snapped the new voice. “You’ve done quite enough for one night.”

Sawyer open and closed his fists again, a sideways glance going back to Wendell. The corners of his mouth curled up. “This ain’t none of yer concern, Downing. This is between me’n him.”

A man walked into the open, hood back, displaying his stoic expression. Though his eyes were locked on Sawyer, his sure movements let the predator know he was well aware of his surroundings. More than a head shorter than the redhead, the man’s shoulders were equally wide, large muscles formed from may years of intense labor. “Oh, but it is my concern. You may not remember, but I still work for the mill. Ms. Mayer here owns that mill, so I work for her.”

The big brute snorted then. “The mill’s been closed for years, Downing. Unless she’s paying you in sawdust, you don’t have a job any more than I do.”

Downing took another step forward, hands lifting from his side. An index finger lightly tapped the cold metal of a hatchet hanging at his hip. He gave Sawyer a wary grin, “Unlike the rest of you cowards, I still protect the hand that fed me.”

There was a glint of steel as Downing readjusted that hatchet, giving Sawyer a good look at a possible future. “Does Ms. Mayer need protecting…boy?”

Sawyer hesitated…then marched off into the darkness without a reply.

Strong hands lifted Wendell carefully into a seated position. “I have to say, even from the trees, that was quite the display of skills.”

Wendell’s eye’s were too swollen to see who had rescued him. It even hurt to frown. “Skills?”

The serious voice rolled into a light chuckle, “That log wall isn’t likely to assault another anytime soon. That and a few more impacts from your face would have seriously bruised his fist.” Pause. “You know you could have hit him back, right? Pääjumä knows that kid deserves a beating.”

Wendell snorted, flinching as his bottom lip split wider. “I was holding back. Figured I could jump him once he was too tired from hitting me first.”

“Hah! I like this one, Elsa.” A strong hand patted his shoulder, “Wendell is it?”

Nodding at the darkness, “Yes, sir.”

“Oh. No. Not ‘sir’. Makes me feel old.”

“Thank you, Downing,” Elsa sniffed, “I don’t know what got into Sawyer.”

Cold, rough fingers poked and prodded Wendell’s face. “Don’t you now?” Downing smirked, “You’ve not noticed the attention? How long has Sawyer been walking you home at night?”

“Since the wolf attacks started,” she replied. Pulling the sleeve of her blouse over her hand, she blotted the blood on Wendell’s face.

“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow,” he complained.

“Those started over a month ago, Elsa…and you didn’t think it strange, that a boy—who doesn’t give a donkey’s butt about anyone but himself, should all of a sudden…,” but he stopped himself. “Ah, never mind. Best the old men stay out of a younger man’s game.”

Elsa snorted, “Stop it. You’re not old, Downing. You just told Wendell not to call you ‘sir’.”

“Well I ain’t exactly young, either. Now let’s get you on your feet, young Wendell.” He paused, “I can call you Wendell, yes?”

Wendell leaned forward to get his feet under him, both Downing and Elsa assisting him. “I prefer Lord of the First.”

The man laughed openly, “Yeah, I like this one.”

Wendell thought it strange how getting hit in the face affected your legs. The last thing he wanted though, was to be out in the night with a maniac beast roaming the village. Especially if it was looking for something to eat. “Sooooo you guys have serious wolf problems, huh?”

“A wolf. As in one,” Downing clarified. “Male, big by the tracks, and if you ask me, probably the Alpha. Angry as a demon.” He brushed the snow off of Wendell’s shoulders and upper back. “We killed a few of the pack over the last while, but they keep coming back, causing problems.”

The cuts across Wendell’s nose and cheeks burned like fire. At least he didn’t break my nose. Legs weak, all he wanted to do was lay down. “You haven’t been able to kill it?”

Downing guided Wendell forward, out of the snow bank. “We’ve shot it. The monster just won’t die. For all his attitude, Sawyer’s hit the beast with a score of arrows and it only seems to have made it mad. It’ll retreat, but given time, he always comes back. Thing has to weigh 20 stones…or more.”

Wendell squinted, testing the pain in his skin. Already the Ithari was numbing the pain. Stone? I wonder how much that is in pounds??

Seeing Wendell’s balance return Downing gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “You get this lovely girl back to her home and bar your doors. That’s my advice. Until we can take this creature down, I don’t think we’re safe after the sun hits the horizon.”

Sliding her arm through Wendell’s, “Thank you for your help, Downing.”

“Of course.”

She turned, guiding Wendell towards the path….and stopped.

“Downing?”

“Hmm?”

“Please be careful.”

Bowing, “As you wish, little Elsa.”

She openly cringed, “Please don’t call me that. I’m not five years old anymore, Jan Downing.”

“No…you most certainly are not.” Again giving a slight bow, “My apologies, Ms. Mayer. Goodnight. Goodnight to you as well, Lord of the Fist.”

Wendell made a casual salute with his free hand.

Downing walked away, leaving the two in total silence. For more than a minute they stood there, unmoving.

“I’ll say this,” Wendell smirked, “this village certainly isn’t boring.”

Elsa stared at him blankly…blinked…then started giggling.

****

The walk to Elsa’s home may have been a short distance, but it was slow going. Wendell wasn’t able to see much, and the considerable size difference between himself and Elsa made their progress through the fresh snow precarious at best.

Good news was, the Ithari had subsided the pain in his skin and joints within minutes. Unfortunately his sight and the swelling in his eyelids would take a bit more time.

Either way, he decided to play along for now. Displaying a sudden ability to heal might not go over well in a community adversely against mägo.

“Interesting town,” he said under his breath.

She chuckled softly, guiding him around patches of ice, “I guess so. If you can call crazy and irrational interesting.” She patted his forearm lightly, “You doing alright?”

Wendell took a turn to laugh softly, “Sure. If having your face pounded into raw meat by a red-headed forest giant, alright.”

“I really am sorry,” Elsa replied, biting her lip to keep from giggling, “I didn’t know that Sawyer felt…I mean, for all the times he…well,…” She let out an exasperated huff of air, “He shouldn’t have hit you.”

Wendell shrugged. “Maybe I shouldn’t have stood in the way.”

“What? Goodness, no! I’m glad you did,” she chirped, but then shook her head. “No. Wait. That’s not—no! Not that I wanted you to get hurt, or even for Sawyer to lose his temper, I just…I’m not interested in him that way. The way Downing said he feels.”

Wendell smiled to himself. The way Downing said he feels, huh? Downing…interesting name. “Who is Downing? You seem to know one another pretty well. Sounded like a nice guy. You know,” and he waved his hand around his swollen eyes, “not that I’ll recognize him next time we meet.”

She patted his arm, “I’ll introduce you properly.”

Wendell tried blinking repeatedly. Blurry shadows quickly coming into focus.

Thank you, Ithari.

Tha-Thump-Thump.

Slowly standing upright, he rolled his shoulders back and pulled his arm from Elsa’s. He immediately stumbled back a step, then quickly caught himself.

“Woah,” she blurted, her hands reaching to steady him. “You okay?”

He nodded, “I’ll be fine. Going to be awfully sore if I don’t make my muscles work.” He rolled his shoulders back again, stretching until he felt the joints pop. “Ungh. Soooo, how do you and Downing…”

Brushing a few strands of hair behind an ear Elsa matched Wendell’s pace. “Downing worked for my father.” She took a deep breath of the night air, steam rolling from her mouth and nose. “Ten men worked at the mill. Seven from the village, my father, and two who came into town much like you have—looking for work. I was little, but I remember Downing, because he was always different.”

“Different?”

Wendell could see the slight smile appear on her face. “He was always polite, kind, and he was eager to help my father. Said he wanted to be a second set of hands.” She looked over her shoulder for a moment, then lowered her voice to a near whisper. “I heard him tell my father that he’d lost his own family in a village raid. Bandits from the hills, looking for food or something like that.

“Most of the men were killed. Some of the women were taken and the rest were left to starve. Downing was one of the few youth who survived. He helped those in the village make it through the harsh winter but his younger sister died of the cough soon after.”

Wendell frowned, “That’s horrible.”

“Without any family or ties, he left to find a life of his own. Told my father he walked the width of Andilain, working for people, but being in the valley never felt like home. When he ended up here, he decided to stay.”

And I thought I had it rough. “So he runs your mill for you?”

Elsa looked up and sadly shook her head. “The mill isn’t open. We had a terrible fire during a huge storm. With my father gone, I didn’t know how to get it running again.”

“If Downing was your fathers second set of hands, can’t he…”

“We don’t have the money to make the repairs,” she cut him off. “The building can be fixed with the tools we have available, which Jan chips away at from time to time—but the metalwork—none of us know how to repair that.”

“So what does Downing do for work?’

“Trapping and stump hunting.”

Wendell chuckled out loud, “I’m sorry…did you say Stump…”

“Stump hunting—I know, sounds glorious, huh?” Elsa let a light giggle escape her lips, “It’s finding the right wood for the carvers in the village. Most of the men can gather their own wood for furniture, doors and the like, but the artisans, the ones who make the special pieces, require something special. Downing scours the forest for the right species of tree and the right pieces, then sells it to them. That, or he takes a percentage of the commissions.”

“Huh,” Wendell pondered, “Doesn’t sound as boring as I thought. But why not reopen the mill? If your father was successful—why not find a way to get it reopened. Sounds like someone like Downing could run it.”

At the end of the village road, they came upon a cluster of trees growing around two moderately-sized buildings. The roofs were charred black, gaping holes in the night air. Towering over them in the background was a giant barn…also charred and splintered at one end. The silhouette in the moonlight looked like a starving giant had taken a bite out of the side of the structures to satisfy an odd craving and discarded the rest.

Elsa stopped and stared at the buildings, then gave a long, almost imperceivable sigh.

“Because the mill died with my father.”

****

The hinges gave a high-pitched squeal as the front door opened. Hot air rushed past them and into the cold of the night. At the opposite end of the large room squat a hearth, the last remains of a few logs glowing now as embers.

Wendell blinked a few times. The pain in his eyes was fading fast, his eyelids already tingling with the healing powers of the gem. He still couldn’t see perfectly, but he could make out most of the shapes and shadows around him.

“Here,” Elsa whispered, pulling two chairs near the fire, “have a seat over here. I’ll get some warm water and get you cleaned up. I have a room you can use tomorrow—but I’ll have to clean it out first. Besides, I think it might be a good idea to keep you warm and comfortable.” She gave him a kind smile, “You’ve had a rough evening.”

Grabbing a candle from the mantle, Elsa snapped off part of a twig from a kindling box and lit it in the fire. “Let’s take a closer look at those wounds.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

Lighting the wick, “Wendell, you were hit repeatedly in the face and thrown against a cabin! We need to make sure those wounds don’t get infected. Let me see your…,” but she stopped as the light revealed Wendell’s face in detail. Her puzzled look lingered as she sat down beside him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, fidgeting in his seat.

Elsa raised a finger and pointed.

“What?”

“Your face,” she replied in a near whisper.

Wendell frowned, “It’s the only one I have.”

“No—that’s not…it’s already healing.”

He smirked, “Last time I checked, that was a good thing. I do want to get better you know.”

Spinning in her chair, she forced the candle into Wendell’s hand and then grabbed his head between her hands.

“Hey, what—”

“Shhh! Hold that light up. Right here.” Tilting Wendells face directly into the light, Elsa used her tiny fingers to lightly push on the skin, inspecting each wound.

“Ow. Ow. Ow.”

“Sorry,” she lowered her hands, eye locked on him. “The cuts already sealed.”

Wendell turned his head away from her, running fingers through his hair. What do I do now? Can’t just blurt out the truth, now can I? Oh, don’t worry Elsa, I have a giant diamond in my chest that heals me when I get punched in the face.

Hehe.

Wait…did you…just laugh at me?

Opening a trunk at the base of the staircase, Elsa pulled out a blanket.

“Right,” she said weakly. “Here you go. We’ll get you cleaned up and situated in the morning then. Sleep by the fire.”