The Wolves

A Short Story

"Hide yourself, murderer. Pray to your god to save you from our fury. For we are the wolves of the righteous lord."

In the evening twilight a burly man, dressed in furs and skins, walked from an old cottage. He wiped his beard clean with the back of his hand. Closing the door behind him he headed to his home. Within the cottage two bodies lay unmoving upon the floor. An elderly woman and her young granddaughter, wrapped in a bloodstained cloak.

The world moves on, Nature takes what is hers. Two souls linger in the forest, crying to the deaf ears of the living. The wolves hear the words that escape our attention. Only a wolf can hunt the evil men amongst the good. Into the woods, the pack moves swiftly. Upon the back of the Alpha rides the two souls. The full moon rises into the night sky. A perfect night for revenge, the silver clad Luna thinks to herself.

Within his hut, the huntsman sleeps. A murderer rarely lets his conscious disturb him. Outside the wolves surround the walls. The scent is strongest from inside the hut. The Alpha knows the hunter slumbers within. The others begin to grow restless, the fury boils their blood.

A cloud passes across the moon. The wolves move in for the kill. Clawing the door, weakening the wood, breaking it down they descend upon the bed. Awakened the Huntsman sees the wolves claws, their wrath filled eyes, and lastly the piercing bite of their teeth.

His screams are short lived. The wolves have accomplished their deed. Into the night the pack moves. Two souls missing from their ranks.