Chapter 11: All Hallows’ Eve

Dire wolf pups at six months are as large as a fully grown grey wolf, so seeing them come at him, deaf to his commands, made Peregrine step back. At that moment, the pack of adult dire wolves materialized around him. They were swift and sure. Three wolves leapt behind the pups, trapping them between the three wolves attacking from the front. There were snarls and yelps, but in only a few seconds, the pups lay lifeless on the ground, their throats torn out by their own parents.

The wolves weren’t done yet, though. They turned toward the retreating men and dogs and bounded toward the large man in front, still holding the rope leashes. There were some few thrown stones from the other retreating men, but left on his own with the pack of dire wolves meant the big man was not long for this world. He was borne to the ground with jaws clamping on all his limbs. Br’er Wolf raised a massive paw and when it descended, disemboweled the still living strongman. He did not live long after that, though, as the wolves tore at his flesh, each making sure it had devoured an organ of their enemy, who had cost the lives of their pups.

The bloody mass was left in the middle of the road as the wolves returned to circle their dead pups. As one, they lifted their heads to the sky and howled. It was said that the howl of a dire wolf could freeze its prey a mile away. The six, mourning their stolen pups, sent shivers up the spines of the men and dogs who had retreated to the tavern and the inn.

“Farewell, Talker,” the alpha wolf said, turning to Peregrine. “We leave now and take our mourning to the mountains where we will again hunt and breed.” As one, the wolves turned and loped off into the forest.

No one stirred in the town, believing they were safe indoors. Peregrine returned to the stable and retrieved a shovel. He went off a ways into the forest and dug a deep hole, then retrieved the bodies of the cruel man and the three pups. He buried them and swept the road so all trace of the battle was gone. After returning the shovel, he went off to wash his clothes clean of the blood in the river. Then he settled to sleep in the shelter of a nearby leaning rock.

A black cat had watched him from the top of the wall and followed him to the river. She paced around the edge of the clearing.

“Goodnight, sister,” Peri said, nodding to the cat. She disappeared into the bushes between the river and the old mansion.

Peri felt a cold whisper he could not discern as he pulled his blanket around him. Somehow his sleep was peaceful. He felt he was being watched over.

Early in the morning, Peregrine decided he would still need to stay in the town, but he was not sure how he would be welcomed. So, he did what any sensible man would do and went fishing. He had hung his clothes from a branch to dry. So, he waded naked into the river.

For Peri, who had learned to fish from Br’er Bruin, fishing meant wading into the river and reaching in to grab flashing silver fishes as they swam by looking for their own breakfast. He grabbed a fish, slammed its head on a nearby rock, and tossed it onto the shore. Then he grabbed another. By the time Peri had a dozen fine fish on the shore, he noticed movement in the bushes and saw the eyes of several cats watching him.

“Good morning, sister felines,” he said. “Would you like to feast on one of these fine fish?”

He drew his knife—a gift, he thought, from the butcher’s daughter after they’d spent a fine night together. At least he thought it had been a fine night. Like all the others, he really couldn’t remember it, or the name of the girl. He only remembered her giving him the knife. He quickly slit and gutted one of the fish, opening it and pulling out the bulk of its bones. These he tossed back into the water. He left the flayed fish on the shore, wrapped the rest of his catch in his blanket, dressed in his dry clothes, and headed toward the town again. The cats barely waited for him to leave before they were all over the fish for breakfast.

Peri entered the tavern by the rear door and looked around. A few men were in the tavern eating breakfast, but as he watched, two of them drank down the last of their beer, grabbed their packs and their dogs, and left.

“Would you like some fish for breakfast, Lorelei?” he asked, proud to have remembered the barmaid’s name.

“Ah, Peregrine. I was afraid you’d never come back. Such strange stories I heard when the men came in from their night hunt last night. More than one had shit in his pants. The stories they told were a terror! A specter commanding a pack of dire wolves attacked and killed some. No one is sure how many. Someone went out this morning, but found no trace of the big man who had dire wolf pups. Some say the wolves dragged him back to the mountains with their pups. Others assumed he’d managed to flee, and all decided they should do the same.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Peri said innocently. “I camped by the river last night and thought I’d bring you fish this morning.”

“Gut them and clean them. Once these ruffians are all gone, I’ll put them on to cook. We’ll open the doors and see if any decent people of the village will return to the tavern.”

And so it was. The townspeople noticed the exodus of fortune-seekers and smelled the fish frying. They poked their noses in the door and then rushed in to partake of the feast. It seemed there was plenty for everyone who showed up, and like the tale of the stone soup, other food showed up as well.

“This fish would be truly remarkable if only there was a loaf of bread,” said one of the villagers. As if anticipating the request, the baker arrived with fresh loaves.

“My Ma always served mushrooms and spargel with fish,” one dreamed. Immediately, two women arrived in the tavern with fresh vegetables.

“Ah! Such a fine meal has never been served in Tumwater,” said the village elder. “If only we had a pie to share for dessert.”

The daughter of the miller appeared with two pies her Ma-Ma had made. And more showed up all morning long.

Words were whispered at first and then the news that the ruffians had left the village was celebrated. Peri served many tankards of ale to the happy villagers, none of whom noticed a black cat sitting in the rafters of the great room.

Boris Dremel, who had lost all his pigs to the undisciplined dogs, thought there might be some hogs who had escaped into the forest and he might go out to see if he could round any up. He was warned to beware of the wild boar. Peregrine volunteered to help him round up his missing pigs and speculated the wild boar might be a good addition for improving the bloodline.