Night of the Wolf Read Online Free Page A

small clearing. The boughs of a huge oak stretched out over him. The ground under him was covered with a mosaic of brown oak leaves.
    He almost turned to look back, but realized at the last moment he really didn’t want to. “Father of the gods, protect me,” he whispered as he passed the big oak. At just that moment, he saw the fire Mir had kindled in the clearing in front of his house.
    He heaved a sigh of relief and hurried onward. When he reached the edge of the wood, he stopped for a second, intending to blow out the lantern.
    Something tugged at his mantle. Thinking it was caught on a twig, he turned and reached down to free it.
    The eyes were only inches away.
    He knew he screamed. Screamed like a woman. He hadn’t believed he could scream like that, but he did.
    He tore free of the mantle—the wolf had it—then flung the lantern at the wolf’s back. Somehow, without seeming to move, the wolf dodged the flaming missile.
    Blaze ran, ran as he didn’t think he could still run . . . like a terrified twenty-year-old.
    Mir was waiting for him at the door.
    Gasping, Blaze looked back across the empty clearing. The bonfire continued to crackle, flames whipping with small tearing sounds, points reaching for the heavens above. At the edge of the forest he saw his mantle, lying like a dark splotch near the flickering lantern slowly being extinguished by the damp leaves.
    “Tell me,” Blaze gasped hoarsely. “Tell me I didn’t dream that.”
    “No,” Mir answered in a weary voice. “you didn’t. Try not to worry about it too much. Go inside. The people hereabouts have honored you with the best of mead and there are covered dishes, roast meats, and fish on the table. I’ll go fetch the lantern and your mantle.”
    “No,” Blaze cried hoarsely, clutching at Mir’s arm. “He might still be nearby.”
    Mir gazed at him sadly. “I’m sure he is. He but played with you. Had he wanted you, he would have taken you before you ever reached my home. I have known for a long time he could take me any time he wanted.
    “The night, the night after . . . she . . . died, I awakened. I believe it to have been the ninth hour, the longest, darkest of the night. The forest was silent; at that time even fish ghosting in deep pools at the river bottom sleep. But he sat awake, upright on his haunches, tail around his body, near my hearth. His eyes glowed green in the firelight. Such a look he gave me, and I knew whatever our intentions—my intentions, her intentions, even—he didn’t . . .” The old man’s voice trailed off. “Well, no matter. I’ll fetch the mantle and lantern. You go inside and eat.”
    Blaze entered the house. The hearth fire blazed high. As promised, there were a number of dishes on the table. Savory aromas rose from them. The girl he’d seen earlier lay on the bed sleeping, her thumb in her mouth.
    He poured himself a cup of wine. The beaker rattled against the neck of the cup. He gulped the dark fluid.
    Mir returned, carrying the mantle and the lamp. “I know you didn’t believe me before. I know what you thought. ‘Doddering old fool living in a tumbledown shack at the edge of the waste. He has kept company with the birds and deer, the deep forest loneliness and his mad little wife far, far too long. His brain is turned.’ That was what you thought, wasn’t it? Eh?”
    “I suppose I might have,” Blaze sighed. “Well, I don’t now. I most emphatically don’t now.”
    Mir nodded. “He is a curse. We must be freed from that curse. You are the greatest of our order still remaining in Gaul. Help us.”
    Blaze sat down at the table. Absently, he poured himself another cup of wine. His eyes narrowed as his fear faded and he began to think.
     
    Far away, the wolf met his pack in a grove where a wooden female image held sway. Sometimes, at certain feasts, women cursed with barrenness came here to dance in the moonlight. They asked the Lady—she had no other name—for a child.