Red, The Wolf

Part 7: The Caravan

Being a wolf and the Guardian of Queston wasn't all about taking down villains and attacking people, either. Red sighed as she recalled the time when two desperate parents had sought out her den up in the mountains, bringing a nosegay of crimson hoods as a sort of appeasement. Their son had gone missing in the wide, craggy forest, and they needed the Wolf to find him. Red had tracked his scent easy enough for a long distance--much farther than she expected a boy to clamber about--and it led her to evidence of a disturbed animal of some sort--possibly a bear. The boy's trail became erratic, and she had found traces of blood on the rocks near a small creek that wound through the cliffs. The water had taken the boy's scent, but Red was not about to give up just yet. She found a way across the river and picked up the boy's trail on the other side, and she kept going until she found him--alive, cold, damp, wounded and gravely ill. He had been terrified, screaming at her and throwing whatever he could lay his hands on to keep her at bay, and Red had to approach him in her human form to convince him that the wolf only wanted to help, to return him to his family safely. Together, the boy and the Wolf made the trek back to Queston, and Red stayed just long enough to observe the family's reunion from a distance.

Her decision to protect and defend the small mountain village wasn't about becoming some kind of celebrity or essential part of every aspect of its citizens' lives. She cared to see them thrive--and to be in this position now, carried far away without any hope of seeing them again, she didn't know how much longer she could bear it.

A strange array of smells assaulted her nose just before Justin's wagon bumped and wobbled its way to a halt.

Red staggered to her feet. Her forelegs wobbled slightly, and a shooting pain arced across her chest. She could hear Justin speaking with someone, while Rascal yapped and scurried around like a common pet, eliciting laughter and cheers with his antics.

"Been a piece since we saw you last, Justin!" boomed a deep voice. "Some of us were beginning to think that the backwater villagers had convinced you to tarry with them!"

Red's hackles rose as she heard the laughter at the jibe. A female voice chimed in, "Either that, or the poor folks didn't have enough to make it worth your while!"

A growl built within Red's throat. Didn't have enough? The double-dealing peddler had taken anything and everything that the good people of Queston had lavished upon him! And for what? It was he who gave them naught in return for hours and weeks of careful cultivation and labor! It would be he who would gain much from the extravagant city folk who could be tricked into thinking that these finely-crafted items were imports from an exotic land. Meanwhile the "backwater villagers" would starve without wholesome food on their tables, would freeze without the good blankets to spread on their beds.

Over my dead body! Red thought, and raised herself into a defensive stance as Justin replied to the curious carnies.

"Aye, 'twas not much, but I did find some treasures among the odds and ends and threads and trinkets! Just look at what I ha--"

Red interrupted with a loud snarl, showing her teeth when she saw the peddler's hand reaching back for the tarp. He yanked his hand back to safety, and she saw the eager motley group gasp and shrink back at the sight of her.

"Cor, Justin!" snapped a man with eyes so big they seemed ready to pop out of his head. "Whassat you 'ave back there?"

Red didn't twitch as the other carnies chimed in.

"Been takin' on more strays, 'ave ye?"

"I should ha' twigged Rascal might take 'isself a mate!"

"She's a wild one, aright!"

Through it all, Red hadn't stopped growling. She couldn't have prevented those things from leaving the village, but she would do her almighty best to prevent them from leaving the wagon.