The Wolf

“Hurry up, girl,” the elf snapped.

The voices of the spirits wrapped around me like a blanket, warning me to stay away from the elf. The words of Fynn echoed in my mind, telling me to stay away from the humans. The advice of Ruella was quick to follow, and I felt the anger that had been steadily burning in my stomach suddenly flare up again. Ever since I had arrived in this strange world, I was being tossed from one person to the next. First Fynn, then Roric and the Huryl, then the spirits, then the witch, and now the elves. Everyone was pulling me in every direction and no one was telling me what I needed to know. Why was I here? What was the promise made to the spirits? Why were the Dyrel and Huryl fighting?

“No,” I said to the elf.

The whispers of the spirits were suddenly silent. The elf turned quickly, pointing an arrow level to my chest. I stood my ground and glared at him.

“I’m not going with you to the elf camp,” I told him. “I’m not going to the Dyrel or the Huryl, and I won’t be lead by the spirits either. Shoot me if you want, but I’m going to find my way home.”

“I can’t let you wander the forest,” the elf said.

“Then shoot me.”

The elf didn’t even pause to think about it. He released the arrow. I watched it come towards me, unable to move out of fear. He had called my bluff and I would die for it. The symbol on my palm began to itch, but I could not move to scratch it. The arrow drew closer and closer and I closed my eyes and prepared myself for death.

A sound from the forest caught my attention and a great gray wolf stood between the projectile and myself. He snapped the arrow in midair with his powerful jaws and stood protectively before me, growling at the elf. The scout drew another arrow and fired, this time at the wolf. I held up my hand reflexively, as if I could stop the animal from being hit.

“No!” I cried.

My palm tingled and the arrow burst into flames. I heard a small chime of laughter as the arrow burned and my eyes widened in shock. Had I done that? The elf looked at me in horror and ran into the night. I felt myself breathing hard and I sat on the ground, still staring at the ashes of the arrow. The wolf padded over to me and stared into my eyes. He seemed somehow familiar, and I reached out to pat him on the head. His fur was coarse and dirty, but the wolf closed his eyes in contentment as I stroked his giant head.

I reviewed all I had learned as I sat in the dark with the wolf. The Huryl claimed the Dyrel had started this war over a border raid. That had little to do with me. I thought to Fynn, the Woodwalker who stole the souls of the innocent. He had not denied the story, but seemed almost proud of his reputation. Fynn was gone, so the Woodwalker no longer held power in the forests. Ruella had told me about a Queen who knew the promise made to the spirits, and that she was the only one who could tell me about it. The elf had also mentioned a Queen. Were they the same person? I had to find someone who would tell me the truth.

“Spirits,” I called into the night. “If I have been promised to you, then tell me how I can help you. Let me fulfill the promise that was made. Show me how!”

I waited, half expecting the forest to come alive with the strange spirits I had seen. Nothing happened. All I could hear was the steady breathing of the wolf and the chirps of the night insects. Even the air hung heavy and unmoving. I sighed, realizing the direct approach was not likely to help me. My stomach growled and I looked to see if the fruit the fawn-child had brought me was still there. The wolf had trampled it in his attempt to rescue me.

“Well,” I said to the wolf, rising to my feet. “I don’t suppose you know of a place to sleep, do you?”

The wolf blinked and turned to walk away. I followed wordlessly, enjoying the comfortable feeling I got with this beast. We walked silently for several minutes, enjoying the cool night air, when I saw a few lights up ahead. The wolf led me to the edge of the forest and stopped, motioning with his head for me to continue. I patted him on the head once in thanks and stepped forward. Spread out before me was a small village of maybe two dozen thatched roof houses. A dirt road lead from the outskirts of the forest through its centre, and a few of the windows were illuminated with candlelight. I glanced back at the wolf, which was watching me carefully. The village seemed very inviting and I wondered if I might find a place to sleep and some food. On the other hand, the villagers might think I was a spy or an enemy and I would be killed before I had the chance to explain myself. I had seen it happen in a movie before, when the townspeople had become a murderous mob, ignoring the hero’s explanations. Was it safer for me to sleep in the forest with the wolf and go to the village in the morning?