At long last, as the eastern sky gained a grey rim, Garret sat down in the leaves. He didn’t want to stop, but he’d wandered so far that he was probably putting more distance between them. He howled up at the last sliver of moon, fading away as morning grew. He begged the moon for help. For millennia, it had guided wolves home, brought them to the comfort of family. Garret didn’t know whether he was a wolf or not, but he knew he missed Molly as badly as any wolf had ever missed their kin.
Wolves loved in the pure, unadulterated way that only animals can, but Garret loved Molly in a bottomless, indivisible way; he loved her in a way that went beyond life and death. Wherever she was, his heart had gone with her, and if she died, he did not want his heart back. It was hers to keep.
A scent caught Garret’s nose. He recoiled from it, stunned. He sniffed again, as if the scent would suddenly morph into something reasonable. It didn’t. The scent was strong, pungently clear. Undeniable. And impossible. Garret stared into the woods, down the incline from which the scent had wafted. It must be an old scent. But it wasn’t. It was fresh, laid down within the last few minutes. Garret whimpered and waffled. He had to find Molly. She didn’t have a second to spare. Even so, she would want him to follow this scent.
Go to him, Garret. It was Molly’s voice in his mind. So Garret went, following the scent trail, dreading what he was about to find. He tracked it down the middle of a valley, briefly lost it across a stream, before tracking it up into the wilds. The animal he pursued was running from him, and it was beginning to boil his blood. Molly needed him, but now, one last time, he was being forced to waste precious time and energy to—
Garret rounded an outcropping on the side of a mountain and came face to face with an animal from a frontiersman’s nightmare. Garret skidded to a stop on the path. Before him stood a wolf, svelte and strong in form, like himself. At one hundred and fifty pounds, Garret was a huge wolf. This wolf dwarfed him. Made him look like the cub he was. The wolf before him weighed in over two hundred and twenty pounds. Garret went into a rage. Sorrow, hurt, and anger were all buried under an avalanche of betrayal.
“How could you!” Garret howled, human words, warped and twisted by pain and by his wolf’s throat. “How could you leave us! You’re a liar! Do you know what you did to Sarn? What you’re still doing to him?!”
The enormous wolf looked down in shame and lifted his stiff front leg. Garret didn’t need to see the scars to know they were there. He’d seen the monster deliver them. At the moment, he didn’t care.
“How could you do this to us!” Garret screamed but the words twisted into a wolf’s howl. He dug into his shoulder and pulled the wolfstrap loose. He stood up on his human legs so he could shout down at the beast. “Answer me!”
The wolf looked away.
“Pa!” Garret screamed.
The word echoed off the rocky sides of the mountain. It bounced around in the trees below, and came back to them as a faint echo.
Pa…
The larger wolf looked at the golden sunrise, his ears low, his head hanging in humiliation, but Garret caught the longing in his eyes. Garret knew what it felt like, to desire that sunrise, to run into it and be free as wolves were meant to be, but Garret could find no compassion in his heart for his father’s choices.
“How could you leave us like that? Sarn thinks you’re dead.”
At that, the big wolf met Garret’s eyes, and Garret read them clearly. That is better than for him to know.
Garret crumpled to his behind. “But I thought you were dead…”
The wolf looked down again.
“Do you know what it’s been like trying to provide for us?” Garret asked hoarsely. “Do you know what I’ve had to do? Your family is hungry, Pa,” Garret cried. “I don’t know how to do this by myself.”
At that, the wolf met his eye again, and in it there was warmth, encouragement. Trust.
It stabbed Garret to the heart. He rolled his head back, shaking it in denial. “Don’t.”
The big wolf was looking out over the forest again, heavy longing in his heart and eyes.
“You have to come back,” Garret said severely. The wolf looked away. “Don’t!” Garret barked. “You owe this to Sarn!”
The big wolf dropped his gaze again, but there was no waver in his posture.
“You can’t just walk away,” Garret entreated.
Slowly, the older wolf turned to face Garret, then dug weakly at the spot on his shoulder where the wolfstrap lay loosely.
Garret was on his feet, pointing his finger. “Bull shit! Don’t you dare act like it won’t come off.”
Garret threw his strap at his Pa. It landed across the bigger wolf’s neck. “You don’t want it to come off! You don’t want to…” Garret choked up.
Sadly, the bigger wolf pulled his son’s strap off of his neck and let it fall to the dirt.
“Pa, please,” Garret begged. “Don’t leave me alone.”
Eyes on the ground and tail tucked, the big wolf turned from his son and walked away.
“Please Pa,” Garret pleaded. “Help me.”
Garret’s Pa rounded the corner and was gone.
“Please,” Garret whispered, wiping away tears. “Help me save Molly.”
Only the wind replied.
* * *
Garret remembered the days he used to argue with Sarn and fight in the yard. He remembered the nights he would pebble-peck Molly’s window and take her away to a fire, where she would read one of her fairy tales to him. It seemed impossible now, that any of it had been real. He knew the fairy tales weren’t. In those stories, the young man was never a hungry, tired wolf, coming back from an all-night hunt for his beloved on which he had learned nothing other than that his Pa had not been killed, but had in fact run away from his family.
In Molly’s fairy tales, there were no long walks that took half the day but were of no real value. Stories didn’t have people wasting their lives, or worse yet, the lives of others. Real life was full of both.
Garret was heartsick all the way back. How do I find her? How do I find something that doesn’t leave a scent? Perhaps the creature was moving in and out of shadows, as Garret had seen it do in the bog. He remembered that part well enough, though what happened after was still hazy and frightening. Garret stumbled into his own house, only bothering to stand up and shed the fur as he came through the door. So what if his Ma saw him. Maybe it would scare some sense into her.
“Sarn,” Garret called softly, even though it wasn’t early anymore. Garret went to their bedroom and found both his and Sarn’s beds made. By Sarn’s hands, no doubt. Ma didn’t do housework unless guests were coming over and there were no other family members around to do it. Hopefully, Sarn had slept at the Carson’s anyway.
Garret rummaged in his dresser and pulled on pants and a shirt. He wanted to be human for a while. He was human when he’d last touched Molly. But God, fabric was annoying.
In the kitchen, he found bread in the bread box, apples and deer jerky in the pantry. He was stuffing his face as best his tired hands could manage when his Ma entered. She was dressed to the nines. Garret glanced dully at the clock. It was eleven in the morning.
She stood at the edge of the kitchen, displaying herself for a compliment. Garret ignored her. The sight of her disgusted him in a way he couldn’t articulate. It had something to do with that night in the bog. Irritated, she walked into the kitchen and gestured to the small pile of jerky on Garret’s plate. “Did you leave any of that for me?” she demanded.
Garret pushed the plate towards her, sickened by her tone and her presence. He got up to leave.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded again, following him too closely as she always did.
“Go away Ma.”
“Is that how you speak to your mother!?” She grabbed his arm and turned him around. He didn’t like her touch. He pulled his arm away.
“Where’s the money, Garret? You’re the man of the house now.
If your Pa were still alive, he’d—“
“He is alive,” Garret said tiredly as he searched for his boots.
His mother’s mouth fell open. “Wha…” Her scowl returned. “That’s not funny Garret. Don’t lie to your mother like that.”
Garret’s boots were gone. In all the human-to-wolf changes, he’d left his clothes scattered everywhere. His boots could be anywhere in the county.
Garret went out the door.
“Garret, don’t ever lie to me like that again!” she yelled at the back of his head.
“I’ve never lied to you Ma,” he said, peeling off his shirt as he went towards the woods.
“What do you think you’re doing,” she yelled as he crossed the yard. “Garret! You’re barefoot and it’s forty-five degrees outside. Garret, I won’t feed Babe anymore if you don’t start doing your chores around here. Garret we need money! When are you going back to the shop?!”
Garret gave a loud, joyless laugh. Molly was out there somewhere, in the hands of a creature capable of things Garret couldn’t comprehend. He had no idea how to find her, it was making him so ill he was having trouble walking, but his Ma wanted to know when he was going back to the shop. Huh. What the hell. He stopped in the middle of the yard, pulled off his pants, shifted right in front of her, and ran full-tilt into the woods.
As he did, he remembered something he should have remembered hours ago. Dr. Grey knew where the creature lived, or at least, Joseph Bendetti seemed to think so. That was more than good enough for Garret.
* * *
Garret sprinted right up the middle of Main Street, sending women screaming and flinging their brown parcels, and sending men cursing and running for their guns. To hell with you. To hell with them all: Molly was in danger.
Garret turned up Dr. Grey’s street. Only as he neared Grey’s house did he realize, Shit, he’s probably out on a call. Oh well, Garret was already there. Grey’s fence didn’t slow Garret, he just went over it. Grey’s window didn’t slow Garret either, he just went through it. He landed on all fours, teeth bared, hackles raised, amid a shower of glass. He heard feet in the back of the house, scrambling for something. Grey was afraid of him. So much the better.
Garret darted out of Grey’s living room, keeping himself long and low. He went down a hall, past a couple of empty rooms and into Grey’s veterinary exam room. As he rounded the door facing, he heard the clack of a rifle lever. Garret looked up and into the barrel of Grey’s 30-30. Though he had forgotten almost everything else, Garret had thought this through, and was proud of himself for having done it. Before Grey could level a shot, Garret stood, turning back into a human and dropping the wolfpelt. He raised his hands and stood not six inches from the end of the gun.
“What are you gonna do, Grey, shoot me? They saw me run up the street. It won’t take them long to figure out which house I went into, and then you’re gonna have to explain why you’ve got a dead blacksmith lying on your floor.”
It gave Grey an instant’s pause, which was all Garret wanted. He wrenched the rifle out of Grey’s hands without even bothering to step to the side of the barrel, which was stupid, but he was too angry to care. He rammed the weapon into Grey’s stomach, and the man doubled over with a plaintive exhalation.
Garret stooped, grabbed Grey’s perfectly greased hair, and pulled his head back so they were face to face.
“Where is it?” Garret asked.
Grey sucked for wind. “Where’s wha—“
Garret caught him by the throat and slammed him back against the corner. “You know what.” Garret glanced at the strap, and the wolf it represented, and tried a bit of theater. “The wolf in me wants you, you know. It wants to tear your throat out. If you don’t tell me where the creature is, right now, I’m gonna let it.”
Garret went on, while crushing Grey’s throat against the wall. “Do you know how it eats? Uh, I mean me. Do you know how I eat?” Garret grabbed at Grey’s stomach, digging in with his fingernails as if they were claws. “I tear out the soft innards first, eat them little by little, so you’re alive the whole time.”
Grey’s eyes widened as he fought for air. Actually, Garret hated the innards. He’d tried them from a deer he’d killed. They tasted as disgusting as they looked. But he figured Grey didn’t know that.
“Wolves don’t eat that way,” Grey choked out.
Damn. Garret didn’t realize what he was doing until he’d already done it. He grabbed Grey, picked him up bodily, and threw him all the way across the exam table and into the dispensary cabinets. Glass shattered and lots of little bottles went tumbling everywhere.
“Then I’ll beat you to death!” He meant it, because as far as he was concerned, Grey was standing between him and Molly. It wasn’t a good place to be. Garret picked up the rifle by the barrel and hefted it to test its weight. Good enough. Garret rounded the little exam table as Grey was crawling across the floor. Garret cuffed him, driving him face first into the wooden floor, brought the rifle down on his back hard enough to wind him, then yelled in his face, “It has Molly. Now where is it?”
“It’ll kill you, Garret,” Grey choked through the blood running from his nose.
Garret seized him by his collar and flung him back against the cabinets. “You think so? It’ll kill you if you tell me, you mean.”
“No,” Grey groveled, shielding his head with his arms. “I mean you can’t kill it. Please stop.”
There wasn’t enough space for Garret to swing the gun, so he rammed the butt into Grey’s stomach again.
“Where is it!”
Garret pulled the gun away and Grey slumped limply forward.
“I know it has Molly,” Grey said weakly.
“How do you know?” Garret demanded.
Grey pushed himself up on shaking arms. “Because it told me.”
Garret didn’t know what to do with that. He thought he should hit Grey again on general principle, but he didn’t. He knelt beside Grey, grabbed his hair again and said savagely, “Right now, I don’t care about anything but Molly. Start saying something that makes sense.”
There was a pounding knock at the front door, followed by a clamor of voices.
“Dr. Grey,” someone called. “Are you okay? We’re coming in!” It was Sheriff Halstead, of course.
Garret was beyond being angry. Beyond being anything except totally determined. Grey was less focused. He stood quickly, pulling himself up on Garret’s bare arm. Grey reached into a drawer and pulled out a pair of his calving pants.
“Put these on!”
“Why?”
“Because you’re arse naked!” Grey hissed, wiping blood from his nose.
“So?”
The men stomped through the house and Grey looked about to wet himself. “Put them on before they see you. They don’t know what you are!”
Garret spread his hands. “I just beat the shit out of you, and now you’re trying to protect me? What the fuck is wrong with you people?!”
Garret was still standing there, butt naked, holding a rifle in one hand and a pair of pants in the other when the sheriff and his posse of shopkeepers got jammed up in the door way. Garret watched them with rising temper as they fought their overweight, out-of-shape way through the door. Only days earlier, he would have been cowed, intimidated by these men. Since then, he’d felt real terror. He’d seen real power. Now he despised them and their stupid lives. Now, they were nothing more than an interference in his search for Molly. You gentlemen have ten seconds, he thought. Before I do whatever it takes to get the information out of Grey, and whatever it takes to keep you from getting in my way.
“Mr. Vilner!” Thundered the sheriff, his hat pulled low, his badge shining, and his belly protruding comically. “I knew it! You’re coming with me right now, and we’re going to have a little talk, in jail.”
“What are you arresting me for this time, Sheriff? Being naked again?”
In that moment, Garret realized he was not the same person he’d been
just a day ago. Something had changed in him, all the way down to the bottom of his heart. He knew his Pa was weak, but at the same time, Garret understood why. He hated it, but he understood. Perhaps his Pa wasn’t the man he should have been, but Garret loved him anyhow. Perhaps his Pa couldn’t be the man he should have been. Perhaps he couldn’t be the man Garret wanted him to be, no, the man that Garret demanded him to be. He couldn’t be the man that Garret demanded himself to be.
And that was the trick, wasn’t it? Garret had always demanded himself to be more than his father, but because his Pa couldn’t do it, Garret secretly believed he couldn’t do it either. He’d stayed a scared, frightened little blacksmith all his life. But as he’d watched his Pa walk away from him, as he’d heard his tearful pleas for help go unanswered, he realized something more important: the man Garret always needed wasn’t inside his Pa, or out anywhere in the world. The man Garret needed was inside of himself. Without knowing he was doing it, Garret had begun to relax. He let go of all the demands he placed on everyone else. He gave his Pa the right to be whatever he really was, no matter how disappointing or hurtful it might be. Then when Garret shifted in front of his mother, he released the last piece of his demands—the ones he placed on himself.
As he ran through the woods towards Grey’s house, he gave himself permission to be whatever he really was. In so doing, he found out that the strength he’d needed was always inside himself. He also noticed a few other things inside himself too, things that probably didn’t belong, and one little seed that reminded him far too much of the creature. He would find a way to deal with that after Molly was safe.
But Garret’s question still hung in the air. “What are you arresting me for this time Sheriff, being naked again?”
Orem and Johnson and all of them were there, perspiring in their shirts, gripping their weapons with white, fearful knuckles. Garret wondered how he’d ever been afraid of them.
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