MagiStream

The Origin of the Lycanthropes

Jesse hefted his satchel over his shoulder and left the library, leaving behind the scent of old, pressed leather and ink on parchment. He strode purposefully through the Keep, heading for the outdoors. Once outside, he paused briefly to enjoy a cool spring breeze before beginning the long hike up the hill. He trekked up the familiar worn dirt path, stopping now and then to catch his breath, as he wasn’t as in-shape as most Magi. Finally, he reached his favorite spot on the Keep grounds, a small, grassy hilltop with a single maple tree. He spent nearly all of his free time sitting beneath the tree, reading history books and fiction, watching the other Magi play with their companions, and gazing out at the Silva Forest that sprawled opposite the Keep. Jesse placed his bag down carefully, and his Direwolf pup immediately emerged from its soft fabric folds to sniff around in the grass. “Don’t wander too far, girl,” Jesse called as he settled against the trunk of the tree. Today he had no books, and Magi and their creatures were scarce, due to the chilly weather. Instead he had to content himself with observing the emerald forest from afar. He wasn’t alone for long. Jesse’s best friend, Taylor, appeared on the crest of the hill, his Swirled Winged Cat kitten on his broad shoulders. The two boys, like their companions, were as different as night and day: Jesse had somber dark brown eyes, while Taylor’s green eyes gleamed with mischief; Jesse had dark hair to match his eyes, while Taylor’s was fiery red; Jesse’s skin was pale and his figure slight, whereas Taylor was tan and athletic; Jesse was antisocial, save a few close friends, while Taylor friendly and personable to everyone he knew.
“Whatcha doin’?” Taylor asked as he sat next to Jesse. His kitten leapt off of his shoulders and began hunting bugs in the grass, his movements lithe and graceful compared to those of the clumsy pup.
“Thinking.”
“About…?”
“About the Silva Forest and all of its mysteries. I spent all day researching its inhabitants, but I was unable to find anything interesting.”
“What exactly were you looking for?”
“I wanted to learn the lore of the indigenous peoples of the forest, like the Centaurs and Lycanthropes.”
A deep, rumbling, masculine voice spoke from behind the boys. “I know a bit of lore, and I might be willing to share it with you, for a price.” Both boys jumped and turned to face the speaker. The man was cloaked from head to toe in a dark robe, his features masked by shadows. Only his eyes were visible, glowing amber eyes that held a feral edge.
“Who are you?” Taylor demanded, jumping to his feet.
“I am but a travelling storyteller,” the stranger answered with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“That’s helpful,” Taylor grumbled. “Whomever you are, there’s something creepy about you. Something dangerous. For all we know, you could be a criminal. We’re going back to the Keep, and you’d better not follow us. C’mon, Jesse.”
Jesse, who had been silent throughout the exchange, whispered “What’s your price?”
The stranger grinned, and Taylor stared at Jesse in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“What’s your price?” Jesse repeated, louder this time.
“All I ask is this: record my words, and take this tale to the library in the Keep. Ensure that it remains available to any and all who wish to read it.”
“That’s it?” Taylor asked skeptically.
“That’s it.”
Jesse nodded slowly. He produced a piece of parchment, a quill, and a jar of ink from his satchel and stared intently at the stranger.
The man cleared his throat with a growl and began. “This tale takes place during a time before the Keep, a time in which most humans hated and feared anything magical, even Magi, in whom magic had just begun to manifest. Magi hid their power, fearing persecution, and they hadn’t yet begun to form partnerships with magical creatures. This is because these creatures were not yet understood, so they were despised more than anything else. Their very existence threatened peaceful village life. They were not evil, just wild, but humans have spent millennia learning to suppress their own wildness, and in the process they forgot that it was ever a part of them. They began to see themselves as separate from nature, better than other beings, and they fought to control the wild. Of course, this was not true of all humans. This is the tale of a simple farm boy who learned to embrace the wild and, in the end, became a part of it.”
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William wiped the sweat from his brow and ran his calloused hand through his mousy brown hair. He stopped chopping firewood in order to catch his breath, which puffed like smoke out of a chimney in the frosty winter air. He exhaled more forcefully, trying to create more puffs of breath. “I’m like a dragon.” he joked to himself, though he knew that if anyone else heard him mentioning dragons he would be beaten. He gazed out at his master’s herd of sheep and goats, which were calmly grazing in the pen beyond the vegetable patch, and wondered how many would survive the winter. Some would die of starvation, others of disease, and still others would be eaten by the creatures that lived in the Silva Forest. After all, the edge of the forest was right next to the village, and livestock was easy prey for hungry predators. As if it could read his thoughts, a sheep met his chocolate brown eyes with her own and bleated. “Don’t worry, girl. I’ll protect you and the herd,” he crooned. Several chickens in the coop clucked loudly, and the rooster crowed, making William laugh. “You, too, guys.”
“William!”
William spun around and saw his master standing at the back door of his log cottage. His master looked annoyed, and William smiled sheepishly.
“Are you talking to those damn animals again, boy?” He didn’t wait for an answer; he already knew. “ If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. They’re beasts. They can’t understand you. In the end, they’re going to be slaughtered, sold, and eaten, so it’s pointless to get attached. Now get back to work. Or would you rather live in the streets again?”
“Yes, master. Er, I mean, no master. I mean-”
The master waved his hand in dismissal and limped stiffly back into the house. William smiled affectionately after him. He didn’t mind his master’s gruff attitude at all, since he knew that, deep down, the old man, Wulfric, and his wife, Vivienne, cared for the boy. They took him in after his parents disappeared into the forest years ago, making him an orphan. They used him as a farmhand and worked him hard without pay, but they gave him a roof over his head and food in his belly, so he couldn’t complain. William strongly disagreed with his master’s assessment of animals, but he understood why the master felt the way he did. The master used to run the farm on his own, but several years before the man took William in, he had been mauled by a wild Cehual Boar, leaving him lame and unable to work. The old couple hadn’t been wealthy to start with, but with the master incapacitated, they had fallen into poverty, just barely skating by on Vivienne’s meager earnings. William sighed and resumed chopping wood. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to the animals, “he doesn’t mean it.”
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That night, William and the old couple were eating a dinner of stale rolls and goat cheese when Vivienne suddenly sighed.
“I’m tired of eating the same old thing over and over again. Porridge every morning, bread and cheese every night, and stew on special occasions. It’s bland and boring, and I’m sick of it!”
Wulfric grunted. “If you don’t like it, then go back to your cushy life in Synara City. I’m sure your parents would love the chance to remind you, over and over again, how they warned you that marrying a farmer was a mistake.”
“Well, maybe I’ll do just that!”
“Fine. Go.”
“I will!”
The master and Vivienne glared at each other in silence, but William grinned. The old couple had this same fight every week, but neither one was serious. Arguing was simply something they did to pass the time. The master gave in first, like he always did. He sighed.
“Please don’t go, Vivienne. I need you here. And the boy needs you, too. Without you, he’d never bathe, and I’d die from the stench.”
“Hey!” William protested.
“Hm...I suppose that’s true. Fine, I’ll stay, but I’m not doing it for you. If the boy doesn’t bathe, the entire village will perish!”
The old couple broke into laughter while William pouted.
“I don’t smell that bad…”
Finally, William smiled, and he, too, joined in the laughter.
“I’m sure I can find some wild mushrooms or carrots to add to our dinner,” he assured Vivienne.
“How on earth do you expect to do that?” Vivienne asked incredulously. “It’s freezing outside. All the wild plants are surely dead already.”
William smiled mischievously and said, “Leave it to me.”
William went outside and wandered close to the woods, despite his master’s constant warnings to never go near it. He pretended to search around, just in case his master was watching him through the cottage’s small back window. After some time, he bent down, hoping he was out of sight. Then he placed his hands flat on the soil and bit his lip in concentration. He poured his magic into the ground, something he practiced constantly but never told anyone. A minute later, mushrooms and carrot tops sprouted up through the soil. William dragged his hands across the surface of the ground, parting the frozen, hardened soil with magic and revealing the roots of the plants, making them easier to pick. Tired from his efforts, but satisfied with the results, he picked the plants and returned to the house.
“Where did you find those?” Vivienne asked, clearly delighted.
“Oh, you know. They grow by the edge of the forest,” William answered semi-truthfully.
“I’ve told you not to go in there, boy,” Wulfric growled.
“I didn’t go in. I just stood at the edge.”
Wulfric glowered at him, but Vivienne came to his rescue when she said, “Oh, leave him alone, Wulfric. He’s fine, and now we have something to add to our dinner. I’m sure we can spare just a little meat from our stores, and I can make a stew. Just give me a little time.”
Wulfric still glared at the boy as Vivienne went to work, but he said nothing further. William flashed his most innocent smile and began to help Vivienne. Later that night, William fell asleep with a full belly and a smile on his face.
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The next morning, William woke in the dim light of dawn to begin his work. He groaned tiredly and made his way outside to find the ground covered in a blanket of fresh snow. Once he got over his initial delight at seeing the first snow of the season, he realized that something was terribly wrong. Absolute silence permeated the farm. Usually around this time the rooster would be crowing, the chickens would be clucking greedily, and the goats and sheep would be chewing cud. Instead, the animals were silent and still. William made his rounds, sprinkling feed for the chickens in the coop, bringing more firewood over to the cottage, and checking the fence containing the livestock for any damage. When he reached the side of the pen that was closest to the woods, he was astounded and horrified to see a broken section of the fence, large paw prints in the snow, and a trail of blood leading into the Silva Forest. Before alerting his master of the trouble, he quickly repaired the wooden fence his earth magic so that the herd wouldn’t escape. Once again, he felt drained by his efforts, but he was confident that, with time and practice, his magic would grow stronger and his control of it better. Pushing thoughts of magic aside, William ran back to the cottage and burst through the door.
“Master!”
“What is it, boy? You’d better have a good reason for shouting so early in the morning,” his master complained.
“Master, something from the forest broke into the pen and killed one of the sheep! There’s a trail of blood and pawprints in the snow, so maybe we could follow it and-”
“Not another word! No one is going to follow a beast into the forest, especially not you!” Wulfric glared sharply at William with a mixture of fury and fear in his eyes.
“But what if the sheep is still alive? We might be able to save her!”
“There’s no way that sheep is still alive. Whatever took her has already killed and devoured her, most likely stripped her to the bone. I’ll go into town and ask if anyone else has had trouble with the monsters of the Silva Forest this winter. Maybe they’ll have some advice about warding off such beasts. You, on the other hand, are going to get straight back to work, do you understand me?”
“But I promised them,” William whispered.
“What’s that? What did you promise, and to whom?
“I promised the animals I’d protect them, and I failed.”
“For God’s sake, boy. They’re animals! Beasts! They don’t understand words or sentiments like people do. It’s not like they’ll hold your failure against you. Now stop wasting time and get back to work. Vivienne! We’re going to town!”
Wulfric and Vivienne departed, and William was left to mourn the sheep by himself. Unlike everyone else in the village, William knew that animals weren’t just beasts. They had thoughts, feelings, and personalities, and he cared for each one individually. He believed that they cared for him, too. Feeling hollow and numb, he returned to work, chopping firewood with a repetitive motion that required no thought. He watched the animals grow more and more active in his presence, the chickens pecking at the ground for bugs, the sheep grazing, and the goats butting heads. William slowly began to realize that they felt safe around him, safe enough to eat and resume their regular activities. With determination blossoming in his chest, he abandoned his axe and picked up a shovel instead. He began to dig a trench around the pen, struggling against the solid earth to make it deep enough and wide enough that no predator could reach his herd. Once again he called on his magic to soften the ground, and when his body finally succumbed to exhaustion, he used his remaining magic power to finish digging the trench by packing dirt together and levitating clumps of it into the forest. He surveyed his work proudly before passing out where he stood.
****************************************************************************
“William? William? Can you hear me?”
William opened his eyes slowly and blinked. He was wrapped in a wool blanket and sitting in front of the fireplace, staring into Vivienne’s concerned face, which hovered only inches from his own.
“Oh, thank God! He’s alive!”
“Wha-?”
“Hush. You need to rest. Here, have some broth.” Vivienne spooned some hot chicken broth into William’s mouth and asked, “How do you feel?”
“I-I can’t feel my fingers. Or my toes. What happened?”
“You tell us, boy,” Wulfric grunted. He had been stoking the fire, but now he approached William. “When we returned from town, we found you face down in the dirt by the edge of the woods. You were so cold...like a block of ice. We brought you inside and warmed you up, but we thought we were too late. Explain yourself.” Wulfric’s voice was gruff, but William thought it was because his master was scared.
“I was digging a trench...I must have gotten tired and passed out.” William chuckled. “Oops.”
Wulfric backhanded the boy, leaving an angry red mark on his cheek.
“It isn’t funny!” he roared.
“I-I’m sorry, master,” William stammered. His cheek stung painfully, but his pride hurt worse. Wulfric took a deep breath to calm himself and stalked off, leaving William and Vivienne behind.
“You just worried him, dear, that’s all,” Vivienne assured him.
“I was trying to protect the herd,” William explained. “Our herd. It’s a man’s duty to protect what’s his, and if he loses his life in the process, so be it.” William stuck his chin out stubbornly.
“A man’s duty?” Vivienne snorted. Then she began to laugh. She laughed so hard she cried, and William frowned.
“What’s so funny?”
“Sweetheart,” Vivienne said as she wiped tears from her eyes, “you’re not yet a man. You’re barely fourteen! From now on, let the adults handle everything dangerous, alright? I’ll go get you more broth.”
As Vivienne walked away, still chuckling, William’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and indignation. He wasn’t a child! He did almost all of the work on the farm, chopping wood, repairing fences, feeding the animals, milking the goats, shearing the sheep, collecting eggs from the chicken coop, and planting, watering, and harvesting crops. He even took the produce to the market! The only thing he didn’t do was actually kill the animals when their only remaining purpose was to be eaten. His master always teased him for that, saying he had a weak stomach. Surely bloodlust and age didn’t make a man. As William pondered what other qualities could possibly make him an equal in his master’s eyes, he fell asleep by the fire.
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William woke to the sound of a haunting howl. He was still in the chair in front of the fireplace, but the fire had died down to embers, and the room was pitch black. William listened closely, but even after the howl tapered off, he didn’t hear Wulfric’s feet on the wooden floor. Figuring that his master hadn’t heard anything, and deciding it was up to him to investigate, William jumped up and ran to the back door of the cottage. When he opened the door, the light of the full moon flooded into the room, temporarily blinding him. He let his eyes adjust to the light and stepped outside into a chilling, eerie fog that hovered just above the ground. William carefully made his way over to the tool shed, tripping occasionally on rocks and other hazards hidden by the fog. He grabbed a pitchfork and circled around to the far side of the pen. Once again, the wooden fence was shattered and a single sheep was missing. The trench hadn’t stopped the predator. William started badly when the yelp of an injured animal echoed through the air. Then he heard a ferocious growl and the desperate bleat of a dying sheep. Emboldened by fury, William dove into the trees and raced through the underbrush, tracking the predator that had stolen two members of his herd by sound alone. He couldn’t see anything, since the fog pervaded the forest but the moonlight did not. As he ran, branches whipped at his skin, drawing blood, and thorns lodged into his skin. William barely felt the pain, angry as he was, and he continued on and on until he regained enough sense to realize that he was hopelessly lost. William knew that, when lost in a forest, the safest thing to do was to stay in one spot and wait to be found, but that wasn’t an option in the Silva Forest. A search party would never enter this forest. Instead, they would proclaim the missing person dead and move on with their lives. He was on his own. William squinted, trying to pick up any light at all. He turned in a circle several times before he saw it: a faint glowing ahead of him. He strode towards it, hoping it wasn’t an illusion created by some creature hoping to devour him. Eventually found himself in a clearing and was shocked by what he found. His poor sheep lay dead on the ground, its eyes milky and its wool torn and bloody. Worse, its skin was ripped open, revealing its gleaming organs. William doubled over and vomited, the taste acidic in his mouth. He wiped his mouth and stood there, focusing on his breathing for a long while. When he dared to look up again, he saw tracks in the snow and knew that if he followed them, he’d find his way back home. He briefly knelt by the sheep’s side and gently closed her eyes.
“I failed to protect you, even though I promised. I’m so sorry. Rest in peace.”
As William stood, a thin veil of smoke drifted into the clearing and encircled the sheep. William backed away in fear and watched as the smoke solidified into an Eclipse Spectral Wolf. The Wolf snarled and placed itself between William and its downed prey, but it made no move to attack. It simply glared with its feral, crimson eyes. William stood very still and racked his memory, trying to remember what he knew about these Wolves. Little was known about the Silva Forest and its myriad of creatures, as its depths had never been explored. But everyone knew that there were several types of wolves in the forest: Direwolves, Timber Wolves, and Moonlight and Eclipse Spectral Wolves. Of all of these, the Eclipse Spectral Wolves were the most dangerous and savage. They thrived in darkness, and worse, they were able to erase their physical form so that no man-made weapon could hurt them. But maybe magic would prevail where ordinary weapons wouldn’t. William raised his arms and prepared to delve into the magic within, planning to encase the Wolf in an earthen dome. That way it would be unable to pursue him as he escaped. But something didn’t feel right. William risked another glance at the Wolf, who growled as their eyes met. Then it clicked, and his anger towards the Wolf was replaced by understanding.
“You’re just a pup,” William whispered, trying not to startle the Wolf. “You’re so small...bigger than a dog, but smaller than a full-grown Wolf. You must be under a year old. Where’s your pack?”
Although the Wolf still growled, it seemed to realize that William was speaking to it. Its ears twitched forward slightly to catch his words.
“I see. You don’t have a pack, do you? You must be terribly lonely. I understand. I’m an orphan, too, you know, but at least I have my master and his wife. But you...you’re all alone. Is that why you’re hunting livestock? Are you unable to take down wild creatures?”
As William lowered his arms and dropped the pitch fork, the Wolf ceased growling and sniffed at him. Any tiny movement provoked it again, so William stood perfectly still. Finally, deciding that he was not a threat, the Wolf began to feast. William averted his gaze to avoid being sick again, but he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the Wolf held one of its front paws off the ground. The paw seemed to be dripping blood.
“Are you injured?”
The Wolf’s head shot up at the sound of William’s voice, and its eyes narrowed.
“It looks like your leg is bleeding. I bet my sheep hurt you, didn’t she? She refused to go down without a fight, and her hooves cut you open, huh?” William chuckled softly. “I’d know. Sometimes, when you’re shearing cranky sheep, they cut you with their sharp hooves. It hurts like Hell, but it’s usually not too serious. Maybe I can wrap that for you.”
He took a slow, cautious step towards the Wolf, but it was too much, too quickly for the wild creature. The Wolf snarled and snapped its teeth, warning him back. Suddenly, William had an idea. Once more, he reached for his magic. He probed the earth with tendrils of magic until he found a seed, waiting for spring beneath the soil. His magic touched it and accelerated its growth until it sprouted out of the ground and wrapped its thick leaves around the Wolf’s leg. The Wolf yelped and tried to pull away, but the leaves held. Their roots detached from the ground and left the Wolf with an impromptu bandage which staunched the bleeding. The Wolf sniffed at its paw skeptically, but it seemed satisfied that nothing was wrong and returned to feasting. William moved very slowly and carefully towards his pitchfork. He picked it up, and, never turning his back on the Wolf, he began the journey back home. The Wolf looked him in the eye, momentarily freezing him in place. It hesitantly lifted its lip to snarl, then changed its mind. It panted, flashing a smile at William, and whined.
<Thank you,> echoed a female voice in William’s mind. William was stunned. The Wolf had…spoken to him? He shook his head in disbelief. That was impossible. Wolves didn’t speak. He convinced himself that he was hearing things and continued to back out of the forest. Eventually, the Wolf faded from his sight.
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By the time William finally emerged from the forest, it was well past dawn. He placed the pitchfork by the tool shed and slunk towards the cottage, hoping he would only get a tongue lashing and not a physical one. Suddenly, he saw a figure chopping wood in his regular spot, and the man saw him, too. William paled. It was Bjorn, the town mayor’s son, who had seen William emerge from the forest. To say that the two of them had never gotten along would be an understatement. They often brawled in the streets to the chagrin of Bjorn’s parents and William’s master. William always lost, but he never gave up. He kept fighting until someone intervened or he lost consciousness. William knew that no matter how he was persuaded, Bjorn would tell his father what he had seen, and William would be exiled - or executed. He composed himself and walked forward leisurely, as if he were perfectly calm, while on the inside he was shaking with fear.
“Bjorn. What are you doing here? I know you keep asking Wulfric for an apprenticeship, but he’s refused you several times already. How many times was it again? Five? Ten?”
Bjorn was four years older than William and much larger. His dark hair was cropped short, and his eyes were cold. He straightened his broad shoulders in an effort to intimidate William, but William was only scared of what Bjorn would say to the villagers.
“Orphan. What gives you the right to call your master by his given name? Are you really that rude? And, if you must know, I’m here because you disappeared, apparently into the Silva Forest. I offered to fill in until you got back, but seeing as you’ll be going away again soon, this time permanently, I suppose I’ll keep the job.”
William lost control of his temper and launched himself at Bjorn, forgetting that the man held a wickedly sharp axe in his hands. The impact would have sawed William in half, ending the battle before it began, had Wulfric not interfered.
“That’s enough!” he shouted.
Bjorn stopped short and feigned an ashamed expression. William stumbled, then regained his balance, and he turned to face his master. Bjorn sneered at him when Wulfric wasn’t looking.
“What is the meaning of this? Why were you trying to rid me of my farm hand?” Wulfric’s stormy gray eyes flashed dangerously. He was vicious when protecting his family.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” Bjorn apologized as he hung his head in mock humility, “but I saw William emerge from the forest. Earlier today, you told me that he’s been missing since last night, and I’m afraid that he spent the night in the woods. By our laws, that means he must be punished, and as the mayor’s son, I-”
Wulfric stopped Bjorn with a look. Then he turned his icy gaze on William and asked in a deadly whisper, “Is this true?”
Before William could answer, Bjorn pointed to the forest and said, “There are human tracks in the snow on the far side of the pen. They should be proof enough.”
“Silence! Is he telling the truth, boy?”
“Y-yes, b-but-”
“You see!” Bjorn cried triumphantly. “I’ll go fetch the mayor, as well as the jailer. With that, he bound off.
“M-master-”
“I don’t want to hear it, boy. I’ve heard enough of your excuses to last a lifetime. When the villagers arrive...I don’t know, I just don’t know. I can’t protect you forever, boy. Especially not when you make it so difficult. Stay right there, and don’t move a muscle. If you run, you’ll prove that you’re guilty.”
His master sighed disgustedly and stalked away. William sat dejectedly on a stump and waited. While he waited, he absorbed the very essence of the farm, just in case this was the last time he would ever see it. He took in the sights of the log cottage with its small stone chimney, the chicken coop with its rotting wooden frame and rusty metal wire mesh, the tool shed that was all but falling down, the old but sturdy pen that held the livestock, the small stone well with its clean, shiny new bucket, the one his master had saved for weeks to buy, the tall, hardy grass that poked up here and there through the snow, and the trees at the edge of the forest, some bare and some cloaked in emerald needles. He closed his eyes and inhaled, smelling the scents pine and wood smoke drifting through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of animals. He listened to the chickens clucking, the sheep chewing quietly, the goats bleating and ramming into one another, the water tricking in the well, the birds chirping merrily in the trees, and...men striding through the snow, their boots crunching as the came to sentence him.
William opened his eyes and saw that Wulfric and Vivienne stood between him and the crowd that had gathered on the farm. It wasn’t just Bjorn, the mayor, and the jailor, but almost everyone in the small village. After all, there wasn’t much to do for entertainment, so watching William receive his punishment would have to suffice.
“Good morning, Wulfric,” the mayor chirped happily.
“Mornin’, sir,” Wulfric said tightly, his dislike for the mayor evident in his tone and his posture.
“Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? Sure, it’s cold, but the sky is clear and the sun is hot. It’s a great day to sit by the fire and have a mug of hot cocoa.”
Wulfric shifted uncomfortably. Maybe the mayor could afford to sit around doing nothing all day, but the rest of the villagers had to work for a living. Also, using small talk to put off the matter at hand raised the tension in the air considerably.
“Father,” Bjorn prodded.
“Ah, yes. Wulfric, is it true that your farm hand spent the night in the Silva Forest and came back not only alive but unscathed?”
The villagers started to murmur excitedly, but the mayor hushed them.
“Yes, sir, it’s true, but the boy only went in after a lost sheep, our second one this season. We really can’t afford to lose anymore livestock. Plus he stayed by the edge of the forest the entire time. He never entered its depths. And, ah, it’s not entirely true that he came back unharmed, if you don’t mind me saying. As you can see, he’s got blood all over him, probably from scratches and thorns in the underbrush. The forest can’t possibly favor him over any of us. And you know what they say: God watches over dunces.” Wulfric shot a glare back at William, who hung his head.
“Hm...Well, the boy doesn’t seem evil…” the mayor thought aloud. “Alright. I’ll let it go this once. But I’m warning you, Wulfric. If that boy ever steps a toe out of line again, you’ll have to find yourself a new farm hand.”
The mayor walked away briskly, leaving the bloodthirsty crowd of villagers disappointed. As they, too, slowly dispersed, William looked up in amazement at his master.
“Master...How did you know all that? I mean, I did actually go pretty deep into the forest, but the rest of it was true. How did you know-?”
“I didn’t. And I don’t believe you now. I hope you’re proud of yourself, boy. I just lied through my teeth to the mayor of this town for a street urchin like you. You’d better behave yourself from now on, or else you’ll wish you’d died in that blasted forest.”
William was stunned speechless, and his master stomped away. William turned to Vivienne for comfort, but she just looked at him sadly and shook her head before following Wulfric. Bjorn appeared at William’s side.
“I swear on my life that I’ll get you. I might have failed this time, but sooner or later, I’ll prove that you’re bad news, and the villagers will get rid of you for good.”
“What is your problem with me?” William shouted, loudly enough for everyone to hear. They hurried back to their places to watch yet another brawl between the two boys. “What did I ever do to you?”
“You were born. At least your parents realized their mistake as soon as they saw you and decided to ditch you. Who knows, maybe they hated you so much that they offed themselves.”
William tackled Bjorn, and the two scrabbled for leverage on the ground. They quickly separated and regained their feet before clashing anew. William pummeled Bjorn with rapid punches, but Bjorn’s thick muscle absorbed the hits. With one powerful, well-placed punch, he knocked the wind out of William, who slumped to the ground.
“Want some more, orphan?”
William staggered to his feet and feinted right, since, in most people, the right hand was dominant. Bjorn fell for it, not knowing that William’s hands were equally strong due to his long hours of grueling farm work. He slammed his left fist into Bjorn’s face, knocking his opponent to the ground. Bjorn didn’t hesitate before kicking William’s legs out from under him. Once William hit the ground, Bjorn pinned him and wrapped his hands around his neck.
“This is it for you, orphan.”
Before Wulfric or anyone else could intervene, a dark shape with glowing ruby eyes flashed forth from the forest and leapt at Bjorn. Its weight toppled him off of William, who sat up gasping for air. The Wolf stared down its snout at Bjorn, its snarling jaws mere inches from his face.
<How dare you?> growled the same female voice William had heard the night before.
The Wolf bit savagely into Bjorn’s shoulder, tearing the muscle and cracking the bone. Bjorn wailed in pain, but the creature was already gone. It had placed itself between William and the villagers and now snarled furiously, protecting him from their hatred. Now that it had stopped moving, the villagers saw what it truly was: an Eclipse Spectral Wolf. William noticed the plants wrapped around its leg and knew for sure that it was the same Wolf. The crowd split, women and children screaming and running for safety and the men grabbing any weapons they could find, including branches, logs, the pitchfork, the shovel, the hoe, and the axe. They charged for the Wolf, swinging their weapons madly, but the Wolf stood its ground.
“Go away!” William shouted at the Wolf. “You’re no match for them! They’ll kill you! You have to do what you did before! Turn into smoke! Dissipate, or you’ll die!”
The Wolf paid him no mind. An instant before the villagers, driven mad by terror, reached the Wolf, William screamed, and a wall of rock erupted from the ground. Surprised, the Wolf whipped its head around to stare at William, who was equally surprised. He had never managed such powerful magic before. Then again, he had never tried.
<Hello,> greeted the Wolf, her voice reverberating in William’s mind. It was alien, yet somehow comforting.
“Um, hi.”
<Hello,> the Wolf tried again.
“Hello. I can hear you, you know. Can’t you hear me?”
<Human, I cannot understand your language. I hear the sounds you make, but they mean nothing to me. Try speaking to me psychically. Reach out with your mind.>
<H-hello?>
<That’s better. I have heard tales of humans such as you. Humans who can use magic, just as we creatures can. They are called Magi, and you are one of them.>
“I-? N-no, that can’t be.”
<Human, use your mind,> reminded the Wolf.
<Right. Magi are…well, they’re outcasts! They’re shunned everywhere they go, so they live as nomads, always travelling, never settling down. I can’t be one of them, or I’ll have to leave my home!>
<If you’re not a Magi, then how can you use magic?>
William had no answer for that. He also had no time to think it over, since the villagers were recovering from their shock and growing bold once more.
“He just used magic!” came an incredulous voice on the other side of the rock wall.
“Is he speaking to the beast?” asked another.
The mayor, usually a calm and jovial man, if somewhat dim-witted, shouted, “The boy’s been marked by the forest! He’s an evil, vengeful spirit, a devil sent to kill us all! He’ll either kill us through violence or sicken us with plague or madness! He’ll be the end of us if we don’t destroy him now!”
The villagers roared in approval and surged around the wall, hoping to attack from behind, but William once again manipulated the earth, causing the solid ground all around him to become thick, deep mud, swallowing the villagers up to their thighs. Then he and the Wolf stood and leapt over the mud, charging for the forest. As they ran, William panted, exhausted by his fight with Bjorn and by his overuse of magic, and the Wolf whined in pain whenever she put weight on her still-injured paw. The two slipped between the trees into the relative safety of the forest, free from persecution – for now.
******************************************************************************
The odd pair ran nonstop until noon. Although the Wolf was injured, her wiry, lithe muscles never once faltered, and she kept up her rapid pace. William, however, was not so durable. He began to gasp for air, his lungs aching and raw, when the Wolf finally noticed his condition.
<Enough. We will rest for now and resume our flight when you are less…wheezy.>
As William and the Wolf paused to catch their breath, they examined each other with cautious but curious eyes.
<Wolf, do you have a name, like humans do? Did your parents name you? Where are they now?>
<My name is Lyka, and, if you haven’t already guessed from my voice, I am female. You humans must have pitifully weak noses, or else you would be able to tell on your own. Wild creatures are not named by our parents. Instead we choose our own names once we are old enough to. Where are my parents, you ask? Where are your parents?>
Lyka gazed at William disdainfully, and William flinched.
<I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that the question would offend you. I-I don’t know where my parents are. Maybe they died of illness. Maybe they were jailed, or even killed. But probably they abandoned me. Wulfric and Vivienne took me in, but…b-b-but…>
William burst into tears, startling Lyka into a growl.
<Human! There is water coming from your face! I do not understand!>
William wailed, his voice sounding close to a howl. Understanding dawned in Lyka’s eyes.
<Now I see. I still don’t know what the water means, but that was a mournful howl, sung by those who are lost and lonely or sung to mourn the dead. In your case, I suppose it is both. You are lost, and your former life is dead, gone forever. You have lost your pack, as I have lost mine.>
Lyka stepped forward cautiously until she stood over William. Then she tentatively reached out with her tongue and licked the tears from his face. William impulsively wrapped his arms around her and grabbed her rough, obsidian fur, and, for a moment, Lyka stiffened, but she soon relaxed and continued to lick his face.
<Everything will be alright, William,> she crooned.
William cried himself to sleep, and Lyka settled down next to him. Human and beast slept side by side peacefully for the first time.
******************************************************************************
William was roused by Lyka’s rough tongue on his face. He started when he saw her fangs so close to him, but she gave him space, and he relaxed.
<Lyka? Why did you wake me?>
<I want to show you something.>
<Show me what?>
Lyka didn’t answer. Instead she trotted through the forest, threatening to leave William behind if he didn’t hurry after her. She never slowed her quick pace, but she often looked over her shoulder to make sure he was following. They traveled for days, drinking from burbling brooks and eating roots, berries, and the occasional rabbit, which they caught thanks to snares built by William. His success at hunting and Lyka’s failure irritated her to no end, but she learned to value him as a hunting partner. At last they came to a clearing which held the roots of an enormous tree growing out of a massive boulder, its branches hopelessly entwined in vines. Silver Direwolves strode back and forth purposefully, searching for intruders and sniffing protectively at the hundreds of eggs housed beneath the tree roots.
<Wow,> William marveled. <My entire village could fit in here.>
<This is the heart of the forest,> Lyka explained. <It is here that a pack of Direwolves guards the young of all of their kind. Those eggs over there,> she said as she pointed with her snout, <are orphans, just like you and me. You see, my pack, like many others, was killed by villagers who attempted to destroy the very forest herself in order to harm the creatures within. The forest, of course, survived, but her creatures were not so fortunate.>
<But…these are Direwolves, not Spectral Wolves. Why not take me to your own kind?>
<Yes. Direwolves are…slightly less malicious towards intruders in their territory than my kind are. There’s a chance that they won’t kill us for intruding, whereas with my kind, we’d already be dead.>
<That’s reassuring,> William gulped. <But why do you want me to see them?>
<I want you to understand two things. Firstly, I am not an exception. All creatures have thoughts, feelings, and personalities, not just humans. Every creature has a voice, and we all have something to say. We have homes and families, just like humans do. And yet we are feared and despised because no one bothers to try to understand us, even though all they have to do is listen.>
<But you don’t have a voice, not the way I do.>
Suddenly, Lyka barked, scaring William so badly that he fell over. The Direwolves glanced in their direction, but they ignored the two, apparently deciding they weren’t a threat.
<What was that for?>
<Was not that my “voice”?> Lyka teased. After she chuffed for some time, a sound William realized was laughter, Lyka sobered. <Are we not communicating right now? Our physical tongues sound strange to one another’s ears, but our spirits understand each other just fine.>
<Alright. And the second thing you want me to know?>
<The forest herself is alive. See how the Mother Tree glows? She emits energy, her own energy, to sustain her creatures. We are all her children, and so she cares for us. She is a conscious being, and although she is usually content to observe passively, she will occasionally interfere to protect us. Should the humans continue to persecute her children, the very forest herself will revolt and demolish them all.>
William shivered, then whispered, <You are very wise for such a young pup.>
Lyka whined and wagged her tail proudly.
Just then, a severely injured Direwolf loped into the clearing and crashed into another, his vision impaired by blood that trickled down his head and into his eyes. He barked, whined, and growled, his tail and ears moving expressively, and the other Direwolves listened.
<What is he saying? Why can’t I understand him the way I understand you?>
<I can’t answer your second question because I don’t know. Perhaps you and I have forged a bond and so can communicate. Maybe if you bonded with a Direwolf, you’d be able to understand. I understand because all creatures understand each other. The exception, of course, being humans, who are deaf not just physically but spiritually as well. As for what he’s saying, it seems your villagers have grown bolder. They have begun entering the forest on short excursions, carrying sticks with the spawn of lightning on the end.>
<Carrying what now?>
<You know, the spawn of lightning? The power of the Dragons? The red hot moving thing that hurts when you touch it?>
<Oh! You mean fire.>
<Fire,> Lyka repeated, testing the word in her mouth.
<Fire on sticks…They’re carrying torches! That’s bad. We have to go, now! Please lead me back to the village, Lyka!>
<Why? You wish to return to a place where you’re hated?> Lyka snarled.
<No. I wish to stop the villagers from doing something terrible.>
Lyka dipped her head once, agreeing to help William. She sped off into the woods, William at her heels. They ran at his pace, which was far slower than Lyka’s.
<They’re planning on burning the forest down,> William panted.
<That’s ridiculous,> Lyka scoffed. <They can kill individuals and even entire packs, but to burn down the entire forest is impossible. She’s been here long before mankind, and she shall remain long after. The forest will not fall, and any damaged parts will regrow.>
<That may be true, but the creatures that they kill won’t. It’s our fault, Lyka. They’re after us. They must be. Why else would they venture where they’ve never gone before? We have to stop them.>
<How? There are many of them and only two of us. I have few friends in the forest, and even if I had more, I would not ask them to risk their lives for me. Unless the forest decides to aid us, we will fail.>
<We have to try. We can reason with them. We can tell them what you’ve told me, or show them if they don’t believe us.>
<I will not defile this sacred forest with those human scum!> Lyka growled. <You, I will allow, maybe even other Magi, but not those villagers!>
<We won’t bring them in here. We’ll just show them the bond we were able to forge in such a short time. They might understand.>
<And if they don’t?>
<It’s a man’s duty to protect what’s his, and if he loses his life in the process, so be it.>
******************************************************************************
After days of traveling as swiftly as they could, William and Lyka neared the edge of the Silva Forest. Lyka’s injured paw had split open again, blood seeping out more and more as she pushed herself to maintain her pace. William had been concerned, but she had brushed him off. Now Lyka paused behind a thick tree trunk, her ears perked and alert. William failed to notice her posture and stepped forward, snapping a twig loudly underfoot.
<Hush! You’re making so much noise that even the humans will hear you! They are approaching.>
Just as William concealed himself behind a tree, a large hunting party wielding pitchforks, axes, and torches fought their way through the undergrowth and into sight. Bjorn and the mayor were among them, Bjorn leading the way and hacking through plants and weeds with a wicked machete. William’s heart ached when he spotted Wulfric in the crowd.
“Hurry, everyone!” called the mayor. “We must find the infidel before nightfall. Only a blasphemer like him can survive overnight in the forest. If we remain here for too long, vicious beasts will devour us alive at his bidding. Somehow he’s gained control of them. You all heard him speak to the Wolf!”
The villagers all nodded and murmured in agreement; all but Wulfric, who seemed melancholy and reluctant to go on.
“How will we kill him?” a villager asked. “Surely Magi can’t be killed by normal means.”
“Well, that’s what the torches are for,” assured the mayor, though his voice shook with doubt. “If we set fire to his flesh and sprinkle salt on his ashes, his evil spirit will be unable to manifest itself in our world and will flee back to Hell.”
Wulfric snorted in disbelief, and the mayor spun to face him.
“Do you have something to say, Wulfric? Choose your words wisely. After all, this entire disaster is your fault. If you had recognized the true nature of your farm hand earlier, we wouldn’t be in this situation now. We would have been able to burn him at the stake before his powers had grown so strong, before he had taken control of the beasts. But because you were soft-hearted, weak-willed, and blinded by your love for the monster, we are all in peril.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Wulfric ground out, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “William is not a devil. He’s just a boy. A stupid boy with a talent for trouble, but a boy nonetheless.”
“Father, perhaps we should punish Wulfric as well,” Bjorn suggested. “He was the one who took the devil in off of the streets and raised him as his own. Wulfric might even have encouraged him to practice magic and commune with animals.”
William’s blood boiled. Although it pained him, he could bear the burden of the villagers’ hatred. He would allow them to hunt him and even kill him, if need be, though he had done nothing wrong. But no one – no one – messed with his family. His master and his wife were more than his employers; they were his family, his father and mother. They had saved him, and now it was time to return the favor. William’s anger got the best of him, and, throwing caution to the wind, he leapt out from behind the tree to confront the angry mob.
“Mayor! My master is innocent, as are all the creatures of the forest! If someone needs to die to satisfy your thirst for blood, then take my life, but leave the innocents out of it!”
The mob quaked in terror, their bravado gone in the face of the “devil.” Even Wulfric had fear in his eyes, but he feared for the boy rather than himself. However, one among them was not afraid: Bjorn. Bjorn strode forward, his machete in hand, just to be stopped in his tracks when Lyka jumped in his path. She snarled ferociously, her eyes gleaming murderously and her fur dissipating slightly in the sunlight.
<William. I will not allow you to surrender. I will not allow you to throw your life away. I am weakest at this time of day; the sunlight saps my strength. My kind are more suited to darkness and shadows, but still I will fight for you.>
<Lyka…You’re so young. You have your whole life ahead of you. If you escape now, you can find a mate, have pups, and start a pack of your own. I can hold them off for a while. You don’t have to do this.>
<I know. William, I want to do this. You are…precious to me. You are my friend. My pack. I will protect you.>
<Lyka…Thank you.> “Everyone, please listen to me! The creatures of the Silva Forest are not our enemies! Yes, they may steal our livestock, but they do it to feed their families. They may act aggressively to people who wander through the woods, but they do it to defend their homes. They are thinking, feeling creatures, not so different from us. This Eclipse Spectral Wolf is Lyka, my companion of just a few days, but we’ve already come to understand one another, and it’s not just because I’m a Magi. All of you can learn to coexist with wild creatures if you try to understand them, if you listen to their voices. Please! Humans and animals…we’re the same!”
“Silence!” Bjorn roared. “Nobody here will listen to your lies. You cannot corrupt us with your evil ways. This is the end for you!”
Bjorn shouted and charged forward, and Lyka leapt for his throat. His machete hacked at her, but her thick fur and loose skin deflected the blow. However, she was knocked off course and into the path of a man brandishing a pitchfork. The man noticed her weakened paw and stabbed it with his weapon’s tines. Lyka yelped and tried to retreat, but the weapon held her in place. William levitated a rock and hurled it at the man, who stumbled over, freeing Lyka. Then he felt a sharp, stabbing pain on his chest and looked up, straight into Bjorn’s eyes. Bjorn grinned as he swiped at William with his weapon once more, ripping through his shirt and his flesh. Although the cuts were shallow, they were wide, and they bled freely. William willed the earth around Bjorn’s feet to erupt, trying to trap him, but Bjorn quickly dodged away. Lyka had managed to steal most of the mob’s weapons by darting and weaving in and out of the crowd, but now the men pummeled her with their fists, cracking her ribs and causing her nose to bleed. William planted his feet and inhaled deeply. He risked closing his eyes for just an instant to draw on more magic power and caused the earth to shake violently, toppling most of the villagers to the ground. In that instant, Bjorn thrust his weapon deep into William’s chest, inflicting a fatal wound. William gasped as Bjorn yanked his machete out of the torn flesh and muscle, and then he collapsed to his knees. Lyka, who had been busy dispatching fallen villagers with rapid snaps of her jaws, whipped around to stare at William. In her fury, she launched herself at Bjorn without a second thought, jaws wide and bloody. Bjorn sidestepped and brought his powerful arm down across her back, snapping her spine in two.
“Lyka!” William screamed, fighting to remain conscious.
Lyka lay still, but she still breathed. She whined and struggled to lift her head, but she failed. Bjorn smiled maliciously until he noticed the corpses of the villagers all around him. The corpse closest to him was his father. His face paled, and he rushed to his father’s side.
“Father…Father! Please wake up!”
The mayor’s throat had been shredded to pieces, his jugular torn out. He would never wake again. Bjorn stood, his face now purple with rage.
“You’ll pay for this.”
“Haven’t I already?” William panted.
Bjorn didn’t answer. Instead he dropped his torch on a dead, dry bush, which instantly ignited. The flames spread swiftly, fueling the multitude of other, smaller fires created by torches dropped by the other villagers. The natural noise of the forest vanished as its creatures fled to safety. Soon the only sound was the crackling, then roaring, of the fire. William’s lungs rasped as he breathed in the acrid, smoke-filled air. His only relief from the heat was the blood pouring out of his chest and soaking his body. Bjorn turned to leave when, suddenly, a vine dropped from the tree tops. It wriggled and coiled like a snake and wrapped itself around Bjorn’s neck. It lifted him high into the air and continued constricting as Bjorn flailed. It slowly squeezed the life out of him, strangling him until he ceased moving. Then it squeezed even tighter and broke his neck. His body crashed to the ground, and the vines went after Wulfric, who, despite everything, was still alive, huddled by the roots of a tree.
“No. Please,” William whispered. “He’s a friend.”
The last things William saw before blacking out were the vines retreating back into the tree tops and Wulfric, pale and shaking, making his way back to the village.
******************************************************************************
William was shocked to open his eyes and see the canopy of the Silva Forest overhead, to hear the cheerful chirping of the birds, and to smell the sweet scent of pine mixed with the smoky smell of fire. He glanced around and saw that the fire was out. It left behind scorched earth and piles of ash, but the forest would recover. He and Lyka would not. He turned his head slightly, only to experience intense, dizzying pain. He gazed at Lyka, and his eyes filled with tears as he saw the damage done to her. He spoke softly to her.
<Lyka? Are you still alive?”
<Yes, William, but I will not survive much longer, and neither will you.>
<I’m so sorry for everything, Lyka. I caused all of this. If it weren’t for me…>
<If it weren’t for you, I would have died anyway once my injured paw gave out, leaving me unable to hunt. At least this way I died for a noble cause: protecting a friend. William, I would be honored to have you as my Magi.>
<And I would be honored to have you as my companion. Maybe in another life, we’ll meet again. Then we can be together.>
The trees around them began to glow, giving off a soft, green light. The birds changed their tunes to a melancholic yet peaceful hum.
<W-what’s happening?>
<Our greatest wish is to be together, and it seems that the forest is inclined to grant our wish. She desires us to live, though perhaps not as before.>
<What do you mean?>
<Do you trust me?>
<With my life.>
<Then close your eyes and relax.>
William watched as Lyka turned to smoke and drifted through the air towards him. When she reached him, he closed his eyes and inhaled. Then he blacked out.
******************************************************************************
To William’s astonishment, he woke once more, feeling better than he had in ages. His wounds were all healed, and he felt warm and safe, at home in the forest. He surveyed his surroundings and noticed that all of the colors were more vivid, the detail sharper. The sounds of the forest were clearer. He could hear each individual note of a bird’s song, mice skittering along the ground, and the footsteps of predator and prey alike all around him. He could smell the sweet, rich scents of trees, not just pine but maple, oak, birch, and ash, each one a different, earthy scent. He stood slowly and felt taller and stronger than he had before. He smelled the fresh scent of running water, and, realizing he was parched, he made his way towards it. His feet made no sound as he moved, padding quietly across the leaf-littered ground. William reached a stream and cupped his hands, ready to bring water to his mouth, when he saw them: huge Wolf paws with deadly razor claws and rough black pads had replaced his hands. Mousy brown fur covered his arms, and William saw a snout protruding in front of his face. Panicked, he gazed into the water and saw both Wolf and man staring back at him. The two creatures were literally one.
“That’s…me?” he wondered.
William started at the sound of his voice. It was no longer the high pitched, boyish voice it had been. Now it was deep and grumbly, more like a Wolf growl than anything.
“Lyka…”
William’s chest filled with warmth at the mention of his beloved companion, and he knew that Lyka was still with him.
“You…you saved me. You sacrificed yourself, your body, and poured your spirit into me. Lyka, thank you. I will never forget you, and I will always love you.”
William drank his fill and decided to explore his new home. He felt like he belonged here, like his very being was now part of the Silva Forest. As he made his way into its depths, he wondered what to call himself.
“I’m no longer human, but I’m not a Wolf, either. So what am I? This form...it’s me and Lyka...how about...Lycanthrope?”
******************************************************************************

“That is the end of the tale and the beginning of the Lycanthropes.”
“What happened to William?” Jesse asked curiously.
“The boy lived for centuries in the Silva Forest, never growing old, for Lycanthropes are immortal. If you ask the indigenous people of the forest where he is now, some will tell you that he remains in the deepest depths of the forest, ruling from a wooden throne. Others will tell you that he simply vanished without a trace, never to be seen again. Still others will say that he now wanders the land, telling his tale to any who will listen.”
“That was a crazy story, and you’re not exactly a credible source. Why should we believe you?” Taylor demanded.
“You don’t have to. You are free to believe whatever you wish. However, just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
“Where did the other Lycanthropes come from?” Jesse inquired. “They couldn’t all have been fusions of people and wolves.”
“All of the other Lycanthropes were created by the first of their kind. William’s earth magic is said to have changed dramatically after he fused with Lyka. Instead of having power over the earth itself, he gained power over the earth’s creatures and their spirits. Luckily, he used this power for good. He made Lycanthropes out of humans who were hopelessly lost in the forest by placing a part of Lyka’s spirit inside of each of them. He only did this to humans who were gravely injured or ill, those who wouldn’t survive without his help. Anyone strong enough to return to the human realm was led out of the forest to safety.”
“Fascinating,” Jesse whispered.
“Yeah, right,” Taylor grumbled. Suddenly, he lifted his gaze to the sky and squinted up at the sun. He used its position in the sky to estimate the time and gasped. “Jesse! We’ve got to go, or else we’ll be late for Master Belmos’ class!” Taylor scooped up his Swirled Winged Cat, and Jesse whistled for his Direwolf pup, who bounded towards him.
“Thank you for telling me this lore. I promise I’ll have my parchment bound and placed in the Keep’s library, just like you asked. Do you mind if I ask what your name is and where you’re headed now?”
Jesse’s question was met with silence. He spun around to face the stranger only to find that the mysterious man had disappeared.
“Where did he-?”
“C’mon, Jesse!” Taylor called from half way down the hill.
“Coming! Let’s go girl,” Jesse told his pup. He glanced down to see her sniffing at something in the dirt. Bending down to get a closer look, Jesse saw enormous paw marks, easily several times the size of his hands, engraved in the dirt where the stranger had stood.