Red, The Wolf

Part 1: The Flock

Burch's trailing fingers met a wet patch of matted fur, and he felt Red's whole body flinch under his hand, though she kept her growls subdued. The moment was broken, and the she-wolf stepped away from the shepherds.

Burch waved after her as she disappeared back into the forest. If her encounter with the white wolf had resulted in a wound, then she would be visiting the town soon in search of Deborah's healing ointment. Burch smiled. He would warn his wife to carry a few jars with her, in case Red crossed her path.

He waved to the other shepherds. "Let's get the flock back down to the village. We need to get the injured sheep penned and nursed, and then we should see about choosing a new bellwether to lead the flock. I think we've all had enough excitement this morning."

Edan and the others nodded, and he could see a new spring in Tobin's step as he watched and followed the example set by the men around him. He would make a fine shepherd, yet, Burch was certain.

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Deep in the craggy peaks of a mountain, far enough to be out of the range of normal human hearing, a young woman dragged herself into the safety of a secure cave. A gaping wound on her side oozed blood. Anyone in her condition would not be able to move very far, but she did. Sinking with a heavy sigh onto a pallet of pelts, she pulled a squat jar out of a cleft in the rocks and scooped some of the healing ointment onto her fingertips. She spread it over the wounds, gritting her teeth against the searing pain. She kept going until every scratch and scrape was tended, and only then did she allow her body to relax, curling up in the pelts and closing her eyes to rest and heal from the day's ordeal.

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The village of Queston sat well-protected in a wide, flat valley in the midst of tall mountains. Many tradespeople and farming folk lived there, raising their families in relative peace. They were dependent on people from the villages below willing to travel up the crags and slopes for the things their own hands and skill could not provide.

One such traveler was Schoolmaster Remani. The tall, lean scholar made the trek up the mountain every year just after harvest time. He taught the children how to read and figure for six months while the winter prevented him from leaving, and then headed back down to his own village when the paths cleared.

Today marked the Schoolmaster's return to Queston, and the whole town buzzed with excitement. No one knew the precise hour, but he had sent a letter ahead from the inn at the bottom of the mountain. It informed them that he hoped to arrive at midday, so everyone desired to be ready for him.

The wives and older ladies set out a sumptuous array of pies, cakes, cookies, and sandwiches upon tables the men had built. Young women decked the walkways and windows with flowers. The young men climbed ladders and drove nails to hang colorful streamers and a banner that read WELCOME SCHOOLMASTER!

Red favored her sore hip and arm as she milled about the town. She didn't care to interact with the villagers on a regular basis, leading them to depend on one another for wildly-exaggerated stories of her prowess and valor. (Not that she minded what they said about her in her absence, but she tired of refuting it in person.) In spite of this, every so often she liked to take a quiet, close-up inspection of the town she guarded so carefully. Those who had interacted with her in the past gave a subdued smile and nod, while the others mostly left the strange, caped figure alone.

Her quick ears caught the sobs of a child, but by the time she located the source, a little girl already complained to her mother, "I left it right by the stair, and now I can't find it anywhere!"

Her mother tried to console the child. "Don't worry, dear! We can get another doll! Brand can make you one, or we can see if the Peddler has one in his wagon when he comes!"