Chapter 1

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Iquickened my pace as I traveled the well-worn path between the townand my farm. The last traces of yellow and pink had faded from thewestern horizon several minutes ago. I should have been home hoursbefore, but I had difficulty bartering for the items needed.

Asthe rising moon cast a faint glow over the path, I noticed a strangerapproaching from the opposite direction. He stared at me as we passedeach other, making me uneasy. Moments later, he was directly behindme, biting my neck. I struggled to break free, but he didn't letgo. Panicked, I swung my right fist into his face. The man releasedme and stumbled back. I felt dizzy, but struck him again and decidedto retaliate in kind. I grabbed him and bit down on his neck. Heflailed about, trying to dislodge me. Desperately, I bit harder andripped his throat open. Blood gushed into my mouth. I backed away andhurriedly put a hand to the side of my neck, worried about howserious the wound was. My fingers touched warm sticky blood, but itseemed the wound wasn't as bad as I thought. The man who attackedme remained motionless on the ground. I fled without a secondthought.

WhenI stumbled into the house, my wife Caitlin rushed to my side. "Lane,what happened to you?"

"Iwas attacked. A man possessed of wolves bit my neck. I fought himoff. I think I killed him."

Caitlinfrantically pressed rags against my neck. "A man from the village?"

"No,no. I never saw him before," I replied. "But he ripped into myneck like he had the teeth of dogs! We should notify Chief O'Malleyas soon as the sun rises."

Caitlinlifted the rags and looked confused. "Lane, there's barely ascratch on your neck. He barely touched you and you. . ."

Ilooked into her green eyes and said, "I swear to you that the woundwas much larger. I cannot explain what sorcery has caused the woundto become so small, but if I hadn't killed him, I would surely bedead."

"Idon't know why, but I believe you. Did anyone see you fighting thisman?" I shook my head and she continued, "And if you notifiedChief O'Malley of this, how could you explain killing this man whenthere isn't a wound to be found on you? He would accuse you ofmurder, Lane. No, we shall burn your clothes and say nothing."


* * *


Isquinted against the painful sunlight as I worked our meager crop ofcabbage and oats. It had been two days since the strange attack, andI think I contracted some sort of sickness from the man. The sun wasalmost too bright for my eyes. I felt almost unbearably hot and tiredanytime I went outside during the day. My appetite suffered as well.Although I felt hungry, I left most of the food untouched. Yesterdaywas bad, but today it was twice as bad as there were no clouds. Asthe sun rose to the highest spot in the blue sky, I staggered towardthe house.

"Da!"my two-year-old son squealed from where he sat in the grass as Iapproached. Caitlin appeared a second later, holding a pail of cow'smilk. Alarm flashed through her green eyes as I stumbled and fell afew feet from the house.

Forseveral moments, everything was a blur of white and green. I felt mywife's thin, but strong arms around me. The sound of her heartbeatroared in my ears. How could her heartbeat drown out the sound ofeverything else – the cows and chickens mooing and clucking, thewind, even my own heartbeat?

"Roryneeds you. I am all right. You need to get Rory into the house," Imumbled.

"Ialready carried him inside. You are not all right, Lane. You aresick. I will help you inside to bed," Caitlin replied. I had notthe strength to argue with her. In a short while, I fell asleep inbed, with several blankets piled on top of me.

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