by Paul Lucas

The tales we tell are the very coin of life. For what lives on for us in this world except our stories?

A half-dozen horses galloped noisily to a stop outside my Randy Dryad Inn just as I was chasing out the last of my perpetually-drunken regulars for the night. A heartbeat later six burly soldiers shoved a rag-clad prisoner ahead of them through the door.

The filthy, near-naked man crashed to the floorboards, hands and feet bound fast by heavy chains. Even through his heavy brows and shaggy hair, I could see raw hatred gleam in his eyes. He spat at the soldiers and was rewarded with a vicious backhand across the jaw.

My Orc bouncer, Bloodgouge, rose from his stool beside the door. I calmed him with an emphatic scowl. The soldiers wore the badges of Baron Vahl\x92s troops. The last thing my poor, suffering business needed was to annoy the local landholder.

Bloodgouge returned to his stool, crossing his tree-trunk arms and licking his two-inch tusks. The soldiers kept a wary eye on him as they dragged their prisoner with them toward the bar.

"Wench!" the leader, a spectacularly hairy bear of a man, shouted at me. "Fetch the proprietor! Me and my men wish to celebrate our good fortune!"

"I\x92m the owner of this Inn," I said. "And my name is Shakara, not \x91wench.\x92"

"A woman, the innkeeper?"

I canted my chin toward Bloodgouge, who was now very conspicuously polishing his fifty-pound war-axe with a greasy rag. "If you have any complaints, take them up with my legal advocate there. But I assure you--sergeant, is it?--that my ale is as frothy and my beds as soft as in any inn owned by a man."

The sergeant laughed. "Ha! Well said, wen...My Lady Innkeeper. Please fetch a round of drinks for me and my men here." He threw three silver crowns on the bar, a generous sum for a party twice his size. "We\x92ll need rooms and stables space for our horses, too."

I snatched up the coins and began pouring drinks. I sent Tully, a young cousin of mine, to tend their horses and make sure their rooms were in proper order.

The soldiers commandeered a large table in the middle of the room, reserving the chair farthest from the door for their prisoner. "I still think we should have left the Wild Man outside," the youngest of them said.

"And who is going to stay out all night and guard him?" the sergeant rumbled. "You, Scrum? I didn\x92t think so."

So," I said to the sergeant as I set his drink down. "What\x92s the occasion?"

He swung his mug in the prisoner\x92s direction. "He is, My Lady Innkeeper. The Baron is offering a bounty of ten gold crowns for him. Ten! He\x92ll keep us in hay and ale until spring!" The others sounded a ragged cheer.

"Who is he?"

The sergeant laughed. "Why, the Wild Man of Barracca Woods. You\x92ve heard of him?"

"The Wild Man?"

"The very one, my lady. He\x92s been at large for many years, destroying traps, attacking hunters. Why, some say he even runs with the wolves of the forest, and they accept him as one of their own."

One of the soldiers piped in. "Aye, I\x92ve heard he ruts with them, too! Humps their tails like a great big dog himself!"

The others laughed. The prisoner\x92s eyes burned with cold murder.

"I wonder what drove him to such crimes," I said.

The prisoner\x92s rasping baritone cut off the sergeant\x92s reply. "My only crime, barkeep, was loving someone I should not have."

The soldier nearest him raised a fist to strike him, but I spoke out. "No, please, wait." I regarded the prisoner. "Do you have a story to tell, Wild Man?"

He looked me over for many long moments, then nodded hesitantly. "Perhaps."

"I would like to hear it."

The sergeant rumbled. "I am not sure..."

"Please, sergeant," I said. "I collect stories. Whenever I hear an interesting tale I write it down in a book I have. Once a month or so I\x92ll pull it out and read stories from it to the crowd that gathers here. It is my biggest draw. If you let me listen to the Wild Man\x92s story, the next round will be on the house."

The sergeant rubbed his broad expanse of beard. "Well, all right. He\x92ll probably be summarily beheaded when we reach the Baron\x92s castle, so I guess we best listen while we can."

I poured a new round of drinks, plus an extra mug for the prisoner. "To keep your lips moist enough to tell the story well," I said before any of the soldiers could protest.

The Wild Man nodded in thanks and downed several gulps before beginning. "Many years ago I was a very stupid young man named Muruk," he rasped. "I was a huntsman and a tanner and my new wife had just given birth to our first child. My tale begins during a mid-winter hunt..."

- - -

I waded through shin-deep snow, gripping my bow in numbed hands. My every breath exploded in icy mists as I spat vehement curses at the wolf I was hunting. Where was it getting the energy to continue on mile after mile?

Doggedly I shuffled after the tracks left in the newly fallen snow. The trail took on a puzzling aspect. The prints would distort and elongate into almost human proportions, as if the creature somehow grew larger for short stretches. I thought it caused by the shifting snow. I should have known instantly what it was, but I was too tired and desperate to think clearly.

My family sorely needed the three-copper bounty a wolf\x92s tale would bring. My wife, Lika, discovered to our greatest sorrow that she could not produce enough milk for our newborn daughter, Melina. What should have been a steady stream from Lika\x92s bosom was at most a shallow trickle. The midwives and the town healer were at a loss to explain or cure it.

Our daughter cried constantly, day and night. We tried many substitutes for milk, but Melina could keep none of them down. Finally, we were forced to drain our measly savings into buying milk from our neighbor and his goats, but as winter approached our coppers dwindled to almost nothing and the goatherd, an odious man with a frosty ember for a heart, charged us ever-increasing prices. Lika yelled at me constantly to do something. I was forced to spend the dead of winter hunting for game already scarce, hoping to earn enough from furs and wolf bounties to see my daughter through the winter.

That was before this wolf had killed one of the goats upon which my daughter so depended. Lika sobbed wildly, and the goatherd raised his price even higher. I set off after the creature as soon as it was light, hoping to claim it\x92s tail and give my daughter a few more days of life.

Finally, the trail led to a burrow under a hollow log in a small copse of trees. The beast must have been incredibly desperate to travel so far for food. None of the tracks leading out of the den looked fresh, so I knew I had at last cornered the beast. But the footprints leading to the opening were once again distorted, and I would have sworn a creature walking on two legs made them.

I laid down the bow and pulled out my hunting knife. Slowly, cautiously, with my weapon before me, I squatted down and shuffled into the opening in the massive, half-buried log, letting my eyes adjust to the gloom within.

The occupant must have scented my approach, for when I spotted her she was desperately clawing on the opposite wall of the small space, trying to dig a new exit. In one arm she crooked something small and shadowy to her chest. As she turned and looked at me, I at last realized why her tracks were so strange.

She was not a wolf at all, but a Wolfling, a Faerie creature. Legends said that her race was created long ago by the Father Trees, those immortal guardians of all living things, as a mixture of elven and wolf blood. Their kind could transform between the form of a true wolf and wolf-like human. It was the latter she wore. She was slighter than me and would barely touch my shoulder if she stood erect. Her wide face was reminiscent of a young wolf, with curt jowls and high-arcing, triangular ears. But she also had very human features; a short, almost nose-like snout and large, very expressive eyes, the color of a clear daytime sky. Her body was definitely human in form, with hands and legs and most other parts in the expected places, except covered with a coat of unbroken gray fur. A small tuft of a tail peeked out from her backside.

Her arms bore a much tinier version of herself, a cub, not much bigger than my fist. It mewled softly.

The Wolfling clung tightly to her child as she abandoned her hopeless digging and curled up against the far wall, terror in her eyes. She knew she had no chance against a much larger opponent such as myself in such a small space. She shielded the youngling with her body, expecting death at any moment.

I crouched, knife in hand, suddenly tormented as to what to do. Wolfling fur could be sold to a wizard for far more than a mere three copper bounty, and much of the folklore described them as little better than vicious beasts. Humans and Wolflings steadfastly avoided each other in the woods whenever possible, attacking each other when not. Plunging the knife into her was only expected, even by her, it seemed.

But the Wolfling\x92s expressions seemed so human, and her heart-tugging efforts to protect her cub only added to my hesitation. I felt like a murderer.

But Melina was dying...

I noticed she was gaunt and half-starved. The winter had proven particularly harsh, and game was almost nowhere to be found. She had not gotten much of the goat\x92s meat before the animal's owner had chased her off. But there was one part of her that did not lack for fat.

At any other time of my life, I would have looked at her and saw only what any man would see when assessing such things. But at that moment, my mind leapt at only one thought.

A new mother, her breasts were full to feed her pup.

My eyes grew wide. Full enough, perhaps, for two children.

"Can, um, can you understand me?" I asked.

She glared at me with cold suspicion.

"This is going to sound very odd, but I need your help. Really. I could hurt you..."

She hugged her cub closer.

"But I won\x92t!" I added hastily. Seasons, I was no good with words. How could I convince her? "I swear, I won\x92t hurt you. I\x92ll spare you and your child, even give you food, more food than you could ever get hunting by yourself. I can give you better shelter than this, too, a place where you can always be warm. But I need you to do something for me in return." I began fumbling with my belt.

Her eyes widened in horror.

I winced. Stupid, stupid, stupid! "No! Nothing like that! I promise!" I conspicuously put away my knife and pulled out the supply of dried meat I had store away in my belt pouch. I tossed the small bundle to her.

She uncoiled slightly as the food landed beside her. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the food and myself several times before she snatched the dried meat up and gobbled it down. She licked her fingers greedily, not wanting to miss a single morsel. The few bites from the goat must have been her only food in days. Finally, the Wolfling spoke for the first time. Her voice was surprisingly deep for one so small, with a slight rasp. "What hunter want?"

"I need you to come to my home with me. No, please, listen. I have a baby also, not much older than yours. But there is no milk for her, and she is growing very sick. You, um, you could feed her."

She sneered. "A cub? You lie, try to trick me?"

"Her name is Melina. She\x92s so tiny and so beautiful." I blinked back stinging moisture as my own words struck me. "She\x92ll die unless we can figure out some way to feed her. No tricks. I swear on my daughter\x92s life you won\x92t be harmed. Please, please, help my little girl."

The Wolfling stared hard at me and I found myself transfixed by the vast depths of her eyes. Something very ancient, yet very innocent, flickered there. Something that spoke of a feral world of immense antiquity that humankind had long forgotten. A world the Wolfling and her people were still an integral part of, even as that world and its magic were a part of them.

To this day I\x92m not sure what spurred her decision. I would like to think it was as simple as the promise of food and warmth, but in truth I think in the moment our eyes locked she looked into the depths of my soul and for some reason approved of whatever was squatting in the darkness there.

She gave her own child a long and loving look before replying. "Yes. I will feed hunter cub. But you trick me, I run away."

"Fair enough." I backed out of the den. The Wolfling hesitantly followed, blinking into the afternoon glare. She never looked at me directly, but I knew she paid wary attention to every move I made. When I started the long hike back to the village, she shuffled along quietly after me.

We spoke only once during the trek. "My name\x92s Muruk," I offered.

She did not even lift her eyes. "My pack, before they drove me away, called me She Who Has Soft Fur the Color of the Rising Moon."

"Er, that\x92s quite a mouthful. How about if I just call you Moonfur?"

She shrugged. We were quiet the rest of the way.

Lika hated Moonfur.

She yelled and screamed for hours after the Wolfling first entered our home, hissing vehemently when I fed Moonfur our freshest meat. When I told her why I had brought the Wolfling to our cottage, she threw anything she could lift at me and swore to slit my throat if I dared let our only child suckle from a Faerie thing like Moonfur.

I yelled, too, until my throat grew hoarse. Moonfur was Melina\x92s only chance! Couldn\x92t Lika even try to see that?

During a momentary lull in our private war, our voices too raspy to go on, Melina cried from her crib. It was only a tiny wheezing sound, yet as terrible to a parent as any scream of agony. Looking at our pale and sickly child, Lika\x92s mouth contorted at the horrible realization that we really did need Moonfur if our daughter was to live. My wife threw herself on the bed, burying herself in its folds and sobbing tortuously\x97but quietly\x97after that. It was the closest to acquiescence I could hope for.

I lifted Melina from her crib and brought her to Moonfur. The Wolfling had warily watched my wife and I fight even as she wolfed down as much deer meat as her stomach could hold. She was never threatened directly, however, so she had resisted the temptation to bolt. With a slightly distended belly she nursed her own child as I handed Melina down to where she was sitting in a corner.

She took my little daughter in the crook of her arm. Melina had not more than a thimble-full of food in the past few days, and I prayed she was still strong enough to suckle.

"Hunter not lie," was all Moonfur said as she brought the tiny lips to her nipple. When Melina began to suckle, I laughed out loud with joy. Moonfur smiled broadly, falling instantly in love with my daughter\x92s face. A midwife once told me that a mother to one child is a mother to all children. Apparently that applied even to Wolflings.

I turned to Lika to share my joy, only to see my wife glowering pure hatred at Moonfur.

The first few days were the hardest as the weather turned vicious. We were all cooped up together in the cottage.

Most of the time Lika ignored Moonfur as if the Wolfling were an oversized dustball that refused to be swept up. She went about her chores with an intense single-mindedness, sweeping and mending and scrubbing like a general assaulting an invading army of filth. She held Melina as much as she could, and would occasionally try to nurse our daughter herself, only to realize whatever kept her from fulfilling her maternal duty was still in force. She would bury her head in the sheets for hours afterward, trying to drown out the sounds of Moonfur\x92s nursing.

Moonfur, for her part, kept quiet and out of the way, adopting the corner farthest from our bed as \x91her" corner. Lika did not protest when Moonfur gathered some old cloth and spare hay to make a crude nest for herself. She quietly ate the food given her and always, always, kept a wary eye on Lika when my wife wasn\x92t asleep or crying in the bedsheets.

Moonfur\x92s own child stayed with her at all times. The tiny Wolfling had all the cutest features of puppies and human babies combined, and I absently began calling him Little Fur. Moonfur seemed pleased at that.

As Lika chose to ignore Moonfur, I became the target of all my wife\x92s ire. She yelled at me and complained constantly for every wrong I had ever done to her, real or imagined. She refused to perform her more intimate duties as a wife, even in the dark with Moonfur fast asleep. She would just roll over and cocoon the coverings around her, an armor against my advances.

Weeks passed and the weather cleared steadily. Game started becoming easier to find, so we did not lack for food, even with three adults to feed. But another problem became apparent, one Lika constantly wheedled me about. Melina would need nursing for months to come, but we couldn\x92t keep Moonfur hidden from the other villagers if we tried. The town was too small, and the goodwives too nosy and gossipy for their own good. Even though we lived at the very edge of the village, more than a hundred paces off into the forest, we were still too close for people to not at least suspect another person living in our household.

Oddly, It was the ever-quiet Moonfur who provided the answer. After listening to Lika and I argue for the third time that day, Moonfur spoke more than a few words for the first time in weeks. "I know answer," she said. "Hunters raise wolf-dogs, yes? Wolf-dogs and hunters make one pack, yes?"

Like shook her head. "What kind of nonsense\x97"

"Wait," I said. "You mean dogs? Do we keep dogs as pets, is that what you\x92re asking?"

"Pets?" Moonfur rolled the strange word around on her tongue.

I explained and she nodded vigorously. "I be \x91pet\x92 wolf-dog for you. Watch."

She fell forward onto the floor. Between heartbeats as she fell, her form changed from a wolf-like human to a true wolf. It was like seeing ice melt over a fire, with the substance of her body splashing into a form of a large wolf. She looked up at us, tail wagging and tongue panting out of her mouth in satisfaction.

Lika gasped in shock and drew warding symbols in the air. It was the first time we had seen Moonfur transform in front of us.

I smacked myself for not thinking of the solution myself. I could claim that I had found an abandoned cub on one of my winter hunts, and had raised it myself. Now, if we used extra food or supplies, the others would just assume it was for our new "pet" wolf. If they heard someone inside our cottage while we were away or heard us talking to someone who was not supposed to be there, they would assume it was our new family dog.

Even Lika saw the logic in it. Reluctantly.

A few days later, after carefully coaching Moonfur, I went out into the village with Moonfur in wolf-form, making a big show of purchasing some extra hay for my new "dog\x92s" sleeping nest. Of course everyone who was out on that mild spring day came over to see her. Moonfur was nervous with so many humans around, especially by the ones who reached out to pet her, so she hovered close to me. Some of the other hunters grunted in jealousy, commenting on how intelligent and handsome she looked. One even tried to buy her outright from me.

As soon as Moonfur (I unconsciously kept calling her that; no one thought twice of it) realized the humans weren\x92t going to hurt her, she relaxed and began to enjoy their affectionate pats and scratches. Within an hour she was playing "keep-away" with a group of village children, who squealed with delight whenever she outsmarted them and got the ball, which was often.

I smiled as I watched Moonfur play and bark in delight. It was a side of her I hadn\x92t seen before.

Several of the goodwives stopped and told me of their relief that Lika had recovered from her nursing affliction. They had heard Melina\x92s loud and lusty cries these past weeks, a sure sign she was being properly fed. They had also heard Lika arguing with me a lot, especially over Moonfur. They all agreed it was too bad my wife didn\x92t like such a wonderful and intelligent pet.

I kept my mouth shut.

Moonfur changed back to her almost-human form as soon as we were back in the cottage. That night Moonfur talked, really talked, while we ate dinner. She was very excited about meeting the villagers. "They like me!" she exulted. "I play with children, and we run and run, but they not clever like me! I get ball a lot. Tall boy called Smurgen tried to hold ball high where I no jump. But I nip leg, he yelps and drops ball. I get ball, children chase. Fun!"

"You bit a boy?" Lika exclaimed in horror.

"Boy not hurt. Just little ouch-pain, make him drop ball."

"But\x97"

"The boy wasn\x92t hurt," I emphasized. "In fact, everyone really liked her. She made quite an impression on everyone today."

Lika\x92s frown deepened. "So they will have a few kind words on their lips when they lynch us for hiding a Faerie creature in our home."

"It won\x92t come to that. By Autumn Melina will be eating solid food. Moonfur can leave after that."

The Wolfling shifted uncomfortably at my words. Would she actually be sad to go? We did have more food here than she could ever get on her own.

Or was it something more?

"In fact," I said, "I think Moonfur might be able to help us out in a different way, if she wants. I mean, it would only be natural that a hunter would take his new dog out hunting with him."

Moonfur brightened instantly at the suggestion.

Lika hated it. "Absolutely not! You would have to parade her around the village every day if you did that! What if she slips up? What if they begin to suspect?"

"She did good in the village today. Everyone thinks she\x92s just a dog. Besides, we\x92d spend most of the day far from here, hunting. We can bring in a lot more kills\x97and a lot more hides to tan and sell\x97with two hunters on the job. Think of the extra money that would bring!"

"I good hunter!" Moonfur put in. "I help!"

"No!" Lika snapped. "What if Melina gets hungry while you two are away? And what am I supposed to do with her flea-ridden brat while she\x92s not here?"

Moonfur snarled low at the insult to her own child. "Little Fur stay quiet, like he did in den when I hunt! He not bother you! And I feed Melina before I go, after I get back! She not go hungry!"

"No!" Lika yelled. "Listen, I\x92m not going to have\x97"

I shot to my feet, stabbing a finger at my wife. "No, you listen, Lika! This is my house, and my decision! You\x92re my wife, and you\x92re going to live with it whether you like it or not! I don\x92t like to invoke my authority as your husband, but you leave me no choice!"

Lika gulped down the words on her lips, snaking a smoldering glance at Moonfur. "It is true," she said very quietly, "That you don\x92t often invoke your authority over me, husband. Only when it comes to this Faerie bitch, it seems."

Lika stopped yelling so much after that. But her frigid silence disturbed me far more than a dragon wing\x92s worth of screaming.

By summer, things had settled into a routine. Moonfur and I hunted practically every day. My skills and weapons, combined with her more-than-human senses and agility, made us an unparalleled hunting team. Game was plentiful in those warm months, and hardly a week went by when we didn\x92t haul home dozens of pelts and carcasses.

The children grew, Little Fur more swiftly than Melina. Thanks to his Wolfling nature, he was already toddling and eating meat off the table. Melina was just beginning to crawl a bit. She was small for her age, due to the malnutrition in the early weeks of her life.

Lika, for her part, looked after the children while we were gone. Melina received the dragon\x92s share of her attention, while Little Fur was tended to only if he absolutely needed it. We always knew the days that he did, for Lika met us at the door at night to thrust the small Wolfling into his mother\x92s arms with a scowl of contempt.

That was as much as my wife communicated with anybody. She rarely said a word to me for weeks on end, despite all the money and prosperity Moonfur and I were bringing into her life. Our larders were overflowing, and the copper crowns turned to silver ones when I managed to sell a large lot of hides to a caravan passing by on the Tragarian Road two days\x92 hike to the south.

One night mid-season Lika and I lay in bed, backs to each other, as had become our custom. I couldn\x92t sleep, and shook her awake. "A family\x92s wealth is measured by its children," I said. "With so much prosperity, isn\x92t it expected that we have another child?"

"Why?" she snapped. "So Moonfur can suckle that one too, and you\x92d have an excuse to keep her around forever?" She turned over and curled the covers around her.

The next day her cold answer preoccupied me, so much so that I missed an easy shot at a rabbit Moonfur had flushed out of the underbrush. Moonfur shifted from wolf to humanoid form to scold me. "You no see that? Was good shot!" Then she saw the bow drooping in my hand and the dour mood pursing my lips. She lay a concerned hand on mine. "What wrong?"

"Oh, it\x92s just Lika, Moonfur. Sometimes her sniping really gets to me."

She nodded. "It sad when mate no longer loves you. Hunter lonely, yes? My mate die just after Little Fur start living in belly, killed by big male of pack. I flee, not wanting him to kill me, too, for having cub that not his. I lonely a long time, too."

"How did you handle it?"

Her sad frown melted into an impish grin. She leaned forward and nipped my nose, then bounded away into the forest. "I play!"

I stood there, stunned for a second, before I took off after her, laughing. "Why, you outsized furball!"

It was a game of tag we often played, when prey was scarce or we just needed to work off some excess energy. I would "hunt" her, then she would "hunt" me, leading each other on convoluted chases that were far more challenging than any animal track.

For all my skill, Moonfur was much better at the game than I. Last winter she had been half-starved, weak, and shivering from the cold, making her easy prey for me to follow. Now she was well-fed, alert, at the top of her form. She would transform between Wolfling and wolf as the terrain demanded. Often all I could do was just keep up with her.

But I got the feeling that Moonfur often let me catch her, to assuage any injury to my ego. Just as at that moment I could tell she wasn\x92t really trying to challenge me as much as distract me from my woes.

I caught up to her in the middle of a broad, sunlit field overgrown with heather and wildflowers. One thing I can do with my long legs is run faster than her in her Wolfling form, which she still wore, and I chased her down with a final, flying leap that caught he across her waist. We tumbled and rolled, a gaggle of limbs, laughing the whole way. She ended up under me, and I propped myself up on my arms to look down at her.

"Hunter feel better now?" she gasped.

I nodded, wheezing for air. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do. Thanks. I guess really needed that."

We segued into silence, neither one of us wanting to move just yet. Our eyes locked, and a tingling warmth passed between us.

Moonfur lifted her head and caressed my cheek with her tongue. Not as a dog licks, but as a woman kisses.

An overpowering wave of desire crested high within me. My hands explored her frantically, her body quivering and her throat whimpering in pleasure with each new territory they found. A few scant heartbeats later my clothing lay scattered around us as if caught in a windstorm, as she eagerly welcomed me into her yielding warmth.

Our intimacy lasted hours, both of us howling our ecstasy into the countryside.

From that day forward our daily hunting trips became longer and longer while we brought home less and less game. We became completely preoccupied with pleasuring each other while out in the mountainous forests, with no one save the rustling trees and warbling birds to disturb our lovemaking.

I know Lika suspected, but she said nothing. The only real trouble back at the cottage, in fact, arose from Moonfur, who began acting much more assertive, almost aggressive. She began taunting Lika, occasionally even outrightly defying my wife. Lika endured it all in stony silence.

Mostly those were good days. By the end of the season, just as the trees were turning deep rusts and a tiny hint of winter\x92s chill nipped the air, I realized how deeply I cared for Moonfur. After one of our deep-woods liaisons, I told her so. She just snuggled close, rumbled contentedly, and lick-kissed me in response. No words were necessary for her to tell me how she felt. I could easily imagine running away with Moonfur into the depths of the forest, where no human or Wolfling could ever find us, and raising our children in peace and contentment. Melina would definitely have a better mother in Moonfur than in the frigid and spiteful Lika.

If only winter hadn\x92t been approaching, if only I had time to set up a cabin somewhere, I might have done just that.

When we arrived home, Lika looked smug. As Moonfur changed into her Wolfling form, my wife announced, "Melina took solid food for the first time today with no trouble. I\x92ve never seen her eat so much! We can finally get rid of Moonfur!"

"Now, just wait a moment, Lika..."

She spun toward me, her face purpling. "No, you wait, husband! You think I haven\x92t noticed what\x92s been going on with you and that Faerie creature? Do you think I\x92m blind and stupid? I\x92ve put up with it. Seasons, I\x92ve put up with so much since you\x92ve brought that thing into my home, but it stops now! Either she goes today, right now, or I\x92m going to the townsfolk and tell them what has really been happening here these past months!"

"You wouldn\x92t!" I yelled. Melina began crying at our raised voices. Little Fur, who had been mewling happily, became as still as a stone. Moonfur watched intently from beside the door.

Lika ignored her daughter\x92s cries. "I would! And I\x92m going to!" Tears flowed. "I\x92m sick of putting up with that\x97that animal whore of yours! She stole my child, my house, and now my husband! You stupid, selfish bastard! Don\x92t you know what I\x92ve been through all these months? Or has that Wolfling\x92s furry teats blinded you to everything?" She spat in my face, turning toward the door. "I\x92m through with it, all of it! I don\x92t care what happens anymore! I\x92m going to tell the others right now!"

I moved in front of her. "You\x92ll do no such thing! This is still my house and you\x92re still my wife!"

Lika hissed like a cornered cat and pulled one of my tanning knives from the folds of her shift. She must have known it would come to this. She stabbed at me with all her strength, the knife thunking into my right side just below the ribs. I gasped, feeling the alien coldness of the metal slide into my body, sparking an inferno of pain. I staggered back, hand over the wound, trying to stem the torrent of blood.

Lika laughed gleefully. She raised the weapon for another blow. A hideous growl exploded through the cottage, followed by a flash of claws and three streaks of crimson arcing across the room. I looked up to see Lika\x92s face torn across its breadth by three parallel gashes. Moonfur stood between my wife and me, finger claws dripping red, snarling at her rival with hellish fury.

"You stupid Faerie bitch! What have you done to me?" Lika screeched, half-blinded with blood, trying to keep the frightened treble out of her voice. "Step aside! Let me finish off that adulterer of a husband!"

"He not your Mate!" Moonfur snapped. "He give food and shelter and love and all you give him is screams and hate and now knife in belly! You stop being Mate moons ago! He my Mate now! You hurt Mate again I rip throat!" The Wolfling spasmed her clawed hands for emphasis.

For a moment\x97just a brief heartbeat\x97Lika contemplated attacking Moonfur. Instead, she threw the knife at the Wolfling to cover her half-stumbling dash for the door, wiping the blood flowing from her face with a messy sleeve. Moonfur easily batted the weapon aside. As soon as Lika was gone, Moonfur turned her attention to me, whimpering with concern.

I all but collapsed in her arms. She lowered me to the bed and without preliminaries lifted my shirt to sniff the wound. She began licking it, slowly and carefully, to clean it. I\x92ll be damned if it didn\x92t ease the harshest edge off the pain.

It also cleared my head, and I realized what Lika must already be doing. I pushed Moonfur\x92s head back. She looked at me, puzzled. "Moonfur, listen. We have to get out of here. Lika will bring the other villagers."

"I fight!" she said defiantly. "I slash and bite, and they leave us alone!"

"Do you think you can win against axes and scythes and arrows? Against two dozen armed and angry hunters?"

Her ears tapered back in apprehension. She knew the answer to that.

"Get the children." We had to take Melina as well as Little Fur. The superstitious townsfolk would put her to death for suckling at the teat of a Faerie Demon. With no small difficulty I stood, trying not to wince at the pain. Moonfur reached out to steady me. "I\x92ll\x97gah\x97I\x92ll be fine. Really. But we have to go. Now."

We barely made it out of the cottage in time. In the village square, I saw Lika yelling at a small crowd and pointing in our direction. Some of the villagers spotted us. Within minutes they were giving chase, screaming for our blood.

We ran into the forest, Moonfur burdened with two children, I with my wound. Luckily those first few who ran after us knew little of forest craft, and we lost them easily. But soon the villagers would organize themselves, and come after us with their best hunters and trained dogs.

We weren\x92t even a mile away when we heard the first bayings of hunting hounds. Our only saving grace was that night was approaching, and our pursuers would be as blind as we.

We used every trick we could think of to throw them off; running up and across streams, laying false trails, switchbacks, and more, but in the end it seemed hopeless. We rested for a few seconds on a log beside a lazy, moonlit brook, the distant baying of the dogs getting steadily closer. I was physically spent, blood still leaking from my wound. "Leave\x97leave me here," I wheezed. "I\x92ll hold them off. Just give me a stick, or something."

Moonfur jiggled Melina in her arms, keeping my daughter calm and quiet. Little Fur clung to his mother\x92s hips. Moonfur looked wistfully at the children, then at me. A great sadness slowly spread through her.

She affectionately nuzzled Melina, then Little Fur, before she brought them to me. Bewildered, I took them as she handed them down. Then she nuzzled close to my cheek, as we often did when intimate. She breathed deeply of my scent, touching each of the children. "You are my Mate," she said, the words heavy in her throat. "Give them good life."

With one last smile, she transformed into wolf-form and bounded off into the darkening forest, back the way we came.

Through my pain and exhaustion, I finally realized what she was doing. "Moonfur, no!" I called into the night, but it was too late. She was gone.

Minutes later, the baying of the dogs reached a crescendo, then dwindled into the distance. They had caught her scent.

Towards dawn, I slowly, carefully, made my way through the mountains. I had dressed my wound as best I could. I carried Melina in one arm, Little Fur in the other. I had no idea how I was going to care for them, how I was even going to feed them the coming day, but I knew I would find a way, somehow.

For her.

A familiar, mournful howl, far away, suddenly echoed through the countryside. It was cut abruptly short. I stumbled, careful not to hurt the children, as the forest around me blurred with tears.

- - -

The soldiers around the table all sat stunned as the Wild Man\x92s words guttered to a stop. Then they all broke up into guffaws, laughing and chiding the prisoner. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, disgusted with the men. Did they lack hearts, to be so unmoved by the prisoner\x92s tale?

"You sure can tell one, for an old yip!"

"Did you really expect us to believe that load of dragon scat?"

"See! I told you he buggered a wolf!"

I spotted Bloodgouge gesturing for my attention. A tilt of my bouncer\x92s massive chin and an arcing of his brows told me a potentially very unpleasant something was gathering outside. He wanted to know if he should take care of it.

I already had an inkling of what was out there. I looked at the prisoner, and just briefly, our eyes met. His small, almost imperceptible smirk confirmed my suspicions. I mouthed a "no" at my bouncer, who nodded and returned to polishing his now-immaculate axe.

"Wait a moment," the sergeant said to the prisoner. "If what you say is true, then what happened to those children?"

The Wild Man grinned wickedly. He tilted his head back and loosed a throaty howl.

The soldiers stood as one, shocked and outraged. But before they could move further, the front door banged open and dark shapes smashed through my shuttered windows. A torrent of wolves poured into the room from every egress, all large, shaggy and powerful, bared fangs flashing in the lamplight.

To their credit, the soldiers tried to fight back. However, as soon as the sergeant drew his sword the largest male clamped onto his forearm, crunching bone and flesh alike in vise-like jaws. The sergeant screamed. The other wolves launched themselves onto the other soldiers, slashing, biting, raking, snapping. It was over in a beat of a dragon\x92s wing.

I retreated slowly and cautiously to the bar. The wolves ignored me, thank the Seasons. One did snarl at Bloodgouge, unsure of which side the massive Orc was on. My bouncer gave the creature a broad wink. It sat back on its haunches and canted its head with a perplexed whine.

The gurads\x92 bodies lay sprawled across the room, bloody and broken. The Wild Man fished the key for his fetters from the sergeant\x92s corpse and was soon free. The two largest wolves approached him and he swept them up in his arms, hugging them fiercely. In the midst of that embrace, they transformed, their flesh flowing like melting snow. In the Wild Man\x92s right arm was a broad and powerful Wolfling male, with fur the color of a full moon. In his left stood a naked woman, fully human, but with the gray eyes of a wolf. The woman and the male Wolfling held hands even as they embraced Muruk.

In that moment I realized two things. Melina had indeed been affected by suckling at Moonfur\x92s breast all those months. And the dozen wolves surrounding them were much more than pets or companions. They were the Wild Man\x92s Wolfling grandchildren, born to Little Fur and Melina. His pack, in every sense of the word, come to rescue its patriarch.

The wolves filed out through the door, the adult Melina and Little Fur helping Muruk out last. In the doorway, the Wild Man turned toward me, a broad smile cracking his face into a hundred laugh-lines. "By the way, thanks for the drink, barkeep."

"M-my pleasure," I stuttered.

With that they were gone, melting into the wilderness like a shadow against a starless night.

When Baron Vahl heard of what happened to his men, he lifted the bounty on the Wild Man\x92s head for fear of more murders. Muruk and his pack were never seen by mortal eyes again.

No, that\x92s not quite true.

I wrote down everything I remembered of Muruk\x92s tale in my book. Whenever I told the story of Moonfur at my monthly readings at the Inn, I would find a freshly-killed deer carcass outside my door the next morning. A gift, from those who could appreciate the story best.

Howls would fill the night for days afterward, and they were strangely comforting.