To Call Down the Thunder... # added a chapter on page 4

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 10 -

Bronwyn walked on down the stairs and into the darkness at the very bottom to find herself looking at a large oaken door. She put her hands upon it, to see if it would push open, and found it to be carved with many magickal symbols.

The door would not budge an inch, though, so she stood back to determine the best course of action. She thought back on all her father and Meriah had told her. All that Jack had taught her of magick, and all they had gone through on this journey. She thought in her mind of Meriah, and could almost feel her standing behind her.

Then she thought of her father, and he, too, stood at her shoulder. “I’m not alone, am I?” she said to herself quietly, a truth seeming to be revealed to her as she stood watching the door. “I am never alone, for I am the total of all who have gone before. All of my ancestors, my kin, my friends, and my Gods.” She stood back a bit from the door, “And if my father is within me, so that I can reach him, then I can reach any of them.” She stood taller, now, no longer angry, but hopeful. “My father did not fail, he cannot be gone because I yet live. I am his Will, I am his retribution and the tool he shall use to defeat Blackthorne.”

She closed her eyes and went inside herself, reaching deep into her soul for the one light which she knew could defeat Blackthorne. Almost with instinct she raised her arms out from her body and held them up into the air, her feet spread wide and planted firmly on the stone floor. “I call upon all that I have been, all that I am, and all that will be to come to me now and give me aid in this time of trial.” She opened her eyes to see standing before her a being which shone so brightly that the carvings on the door seemed to waver and move in the glow.
Her throat tightened with emotion that could not be put into words. Tears stung her nose and eyes, and she felt pure love and pure energy like she had never known existed.

“Who are you ?” Bronwyn asked, trembling.

“I am She Whom you have called,” The Goddess answered. “I am She who is with you from birth to death and for all time out of time. I am both the Weaver and the Web, and I am She who cuts the threads. I am the Gracious One, who many call the Dark Goddess.”

Bronwyn nearly fell to her knees with shock. The Dark Mother smiled at her, “Peace, child, I am not here to be worshipped, save the groveling for your church. I would much rather my children come to me with their heads high and joy in their hearts, not fear.”

“But you can be fearful, Mother,” Bronwyn said, hoping that she wasn’t contradicting the Goddess.

The Mother laughed then, “Yes, to some I may seem fearful, child. But there is nothing within me that need be feared. I am naught but the Law, and the Law is equal for everyone. If you are True, then what is there to fear ?”

“What shall I do, Mother ?” Bron asked this radiant being before her.

“You shall do what must be done. And I shall do what I must, also.” The Goddess faded as quickly as She had come. Bronwyn did not know what to do next, so she went back to the door and placed her hands on the carved symbols. Remembering Jack’s words about Strength of Will and not Strength of Body being the key, she pushed with her mind this time, instead of her hands. She could feel the carved images beneath her hands seeming to move, and twist. The door moved open before her and she opened her eyes in wonder, and walked on into the room.



Stephan looked at Edward and raised one eyebrow. “Sit back an imagine the door open ?”

“Well, I’ve tried everything else, it can’t hurt I suppose, but I tell you, I will feel darn silly doing it.” Edward said. He closed his eyes and imagined the door opening. When he opened them nothing had changed. He shook his head and turned away from the door. Stephan turned to Adam, “Care to give it a try ?”

“No,” Adam replied, “I don’t think it‘ll work.”

“Allright,” Stephan said, “Then I will try it.” He walked up to the door, feeling a bit foolish, and placed his hands on the door. He let his hands drop, and turned to Edward and Adam standing behind him, “You know, it might be easier if you both aren’t staring at my back.” The two turned their backs on Stephan, trying not to laugh.

Stephan turned back to the door and placed his hands upon it once again. “Ok,” he said to himself, “Think like Bronwyn.” He closed his eyes and imagined the door moving under his hands. He concentrated harder than he had ever thought about anything else before. Under his hands he felt something move, and he immediately opened his eyes. Nothing had changed.

“Is it open yet ?” Edward taunted him.

“Shush, I’m trying to make this work,” Stephan answered back. He closed his eyes again and concentrated as he had before. This time, when he felt movement, he did not open his eyes, but kept imagining the door, swinging wider and wider. He took a step forward, and heard a gasp behind him.

“By the Gods,” Adam said in a hushed whisper, “You did it.”

Stephan opened his eyes and looked in amazement at the open door, and at Rebecca standing inside looking out at them in wonder. She leaped at Stephan and threw herself into his arms, then, and he laughed out loud with surprise. Edward ran over to them both and drew them into a great bear hug which nearly squashed poor Stephan who was stuck in between.

Adam just stood staring at the open door as if it would jump out and bite him any minute. Then he looked at Stephan who was smiling at everyone. “I’m impressed,” he said quietly to Stephan.

Stephan smiled at Adam then, and said, “You just have to have faith in the magick, Adam.” And then they were all laughing.

The foursome went off down the stairs the way they had come, and back to the main hall where Jack and the assembled Otherworld guests were waiting for some response from Bronwyn.



Bronwyn walked into a room that felt cold, and filled with eyes. This room felt so “other” that she almost left again, to go back to safety. But then she felt her father’s hand on her shoulder, and saw in her mind her mother watching her, and she knew she must go on.

The fireplace flared into life, and she saw, sitting before it, in a tall backed chair, Blackthorne, who seemed calm and confident. He indicated with his hand another chair which sat near to the fire, just opposite his own.
“Come, sit, let’s discuss this like mature adults, shall we ?” he said.

Bronwyn was not going to be taken in by any act of civility from Blackthorne, she knew better than to trust him. “I’ll stand here, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Blackthorne said, and took into his hand a goblet and drank from it. “Oh, forgive me,” he said looking sheepish, “would you care for some ? It really is a fine brewing. Turned out rather well.”

“No. Thank you, anyway,” Bron said.

“Well, then, I guess we can get down to discussing business, eh ?” he smiled at her.

“Business ?” Bron asked, “You want to do a deal with me ?” she was amazed that he would even make such an offer.

“Why of course, “ he said slickly, “There is no need for ones such as us to be at odds. Each of us has so much to offer the other.”

“You have nothing to offer me,” She replied.

“Don’t be too quick to judge, Bronwyn. You never know what I can offer, until you’ve heard me out.”

“You wouldn’t be trying to deal with me, if you thought you could beat me any other way.”

“You are so prickly, dear. You really must learn to curb that suspicious streak that runs through you.” He set the goblet back onto the table. “Truly, I do wish to do business with you, merely because I think we could do so grandly together. Why, just think what we could accomplish between the two of us.” His eyes lit up like a child with a new toy.

“Blackthorne,” Bronwyn said, “the only thing I want from you is to be gone. To leave my people alone and to stop your evil scheming.”

Blackthorne laughed loudly. The sound of it not quite as friendly as his words were. “I offer you power, Bronwyn. Power as you have never felt it before. You and I could rule this country. “

“No,” Bron cut his words off, “I want you gone, Blackthorne, gone for good, and I want you to never have the power to harm anyone ever again.”

Blackthorne heaved a big sigh, “It seems such a pity to destroy you, Bronwyn, you have such potential. The way you called the shining host like that, that was quite impressive. But, if you insist.” Blackthorne calmly rose from his chair and faced Bronwyn. He began to make motions in the air with his hands, and mutter words which Bronwyn could not quite make out. The room was beginning to fill with smoke, acrid and harsh, making it hard to both see and breathe.

Bronwyn did not know what to do, so she did the only thing that had ever worked before. She called the Dark Mother once again. Raising her arms out from her sides she called forth the shining host, and the Gods and Goddesses, and anyone who would listen to her plea. It was as if she stood in a bubble. The smoke cleared from around her and she stood facing Blackthorne, whose manner was not so pleasant now that he had decided to kill her.

“You cannot win against me,” he said.

“Yes,” Bronwyn said, calm for the first time in a long time, ”I can.” Bronwyn began her own chanting, the kenning of the Aelf folk, then she changed the words to fit her own purpose and took a step towards Blackthorne.

She felt as if she were towering above Blackthorne, and he did seem to cringe a bit and took a step back. He shouted his words of power at her, but they had no effect. Bronwyn felt as if her whole being were filling the room, pushing out any part of Blackthorne which had occupied it.

Blackthorne fell back into his chair, still trying to shout his words at her, but they had no effect at all. She could tell he was growing weaker, and she took another step forward, until he threw his hands up before his face and cried “Stop!”

Bronwyn did stop, then, and she stood over Blackthorne and looked down upon him with a light in her eyes which lit the entire room. “You have no power over me or mine,” She said. “From this day forward you shall have no power over anyone. In the name of the Dark Mother, I say it is so.”

Bronwyn seemed to split herself in two. She seemed to shrink back to normal and before her stood the Dark Mother, looking at Blackthorne with a scowl on Her face.

Blackthorne merely sat in his chair looking at Her. The Gracious One said to him, “You have been judged, Blackthorne, and have come out of it wanting. You lack any redeeming character. You are not even true to yourself, therefore you must face the Law and be judged by it.”

Bronwyn took one step back. “May the Dark Mother give Her blessings to you, Blackthorne,” she said quietly.
The Mother looked at Bronwyn then, and said with a smile, “You have done well, child. You need not concern yourself with this man any longer.” And the Mother turned back to Blackthorne as Bronwyn backed quietly out of the room.

Blackthorne whimpered a bit at that last statement. “Don’t do this, give me another chance,” he said.

“There are no more chances, Blackthorne.” He began to rise out of the chair, holding his hands out to her. He looked so frail, now. He seemed no more a man than a heap of rags covering some thin frame.

“But,” he began.

“It is finished, Blackthorne.”

Bronwyn was already out the door, so she knew not what the Mother had done with Blackthorne, but she heard no more sounds from the room, and did not expect to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The Bard sat back, his audience still silent from the tale of wonder he had woven for them. The children, the ones who had not dozed off, sat smiling at this story, where good wins over evil, as it ought to be.

“So, what happened to them ?” asked one child, braver than the rest, for it is not polite to ask more of a story than is offered.

The bard looked to this child, holding his hand up to shush the adults who had tried to quiet the questioning voice.

“Why, they lived happily ever after, child.” The Bard said, “as it should be. Edward and Rebecca married, and Edward became a fine king. Stephan and Adam grew to be much closer friends than either had ever imagined, and they, together with Bronwyn, went off on more adventures. But those are tales for another night.” He said, as he looked to the lightening sky. The folk got up from their seats and dusted themselves off, and went off to their cottages in the morning light.

The one brave child still sat, though, and looked up at the Bard. “How do you know all these stories, Bard?” he asked finally.

The bard looked tiredly at the child, thinking of some retort for him, to quiet him so he could go rest. Then he thought of himself at a young age, and grew more kindly in his thoughts towards the little urchin.

“The Forestwife did tell me so, child” , he said finally. And he smiled and stood and walked away into the forest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

[shelleyd2008]

I'm repying to this post just so I don't lose it

I think I'll wait till later to read it

Mind if I copy it into word?

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

Quote:
nope, go ahead. it is easier to read if it's copied to some word processor (but you may lose editing, if it's an older word processor).

 

[redhen]

awesome! Publish! Publish! Wow! You really DO have talent! I'm into this story now! Finish it!

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

Quote:

that one is done - it's sort of a complete story - but the next one is partially finished - I have the intro, and maybe the first chapter or two done.

The second one goes on with Bronwyn, Adam and Stephen and their next adventure.

I can maybe post what I have for the second one - I haven't worked on it in years, would have to dig it up and put it into a word processor again (it is in MSWorks format - very ancient

)

I'll put the first bit I have done on here, just to tease ya all.

meri

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

Prologue -

It was a cold wind which whipped the cloak of the Bard as he walked down the trail into the small village. The villagers were gathering in their livestock for the year, and trying to herd them all into the enclosures, and into safety. Winternights were nearly upon the countryside, and a few straggling cattle and swine were still off wandering the hills, and must be brought in before the festival.

The women and children were busy herding and yelling at the beasts, while the old women sat in their chairs watching, laughing, and sewing on the quilts which would keep their kinfolk warm through the long snow season. The men were all rushing, too, some of them swearing foul epitaphs at the reluctant animals.

The Bard paused just at the bottom of the hill and surveyed the scene with amusement. It would be a fine night for feasting and sitting by a warm fire. The air already held a hint of snow, and the icy chill of each in-drawn breath nearly froze the lungs. The trees on the hillsides were already bare of leaves, except for possibly a few straggling, dead and cracked, brown vestiges of foliage. The grass was done growing for the year, and had turned brown, also. Although, from the mud that was trampled beneath everyone’s feet, you could hardly tell that grass had ever grown there at all. The water puddles all had a film of ice at the edges, and the Bard took one deep breath of air, to clear his head and to see who might be cooking the most tasteful meal this day.

He walked on into the village, smiling and nodding to those who took notice of him. The folk all spread the rumor quickly among them that the Bard had come to the village, and there would be fine tales and feasting while he stayed.

He walked on until he came to the cottage at the center of the village. This cottage was a bit larger than the rest, not only because its inhabitants were more wealthy, but because the family was so prolific. He knocked politely on the door frame and waited for answer before walking in.

The door was answered by a large woman, who dusted her floured hands on her apron.

“Welcome, Seneschal,” she said with a huge smile. “Come, warm yourself, get out of that terrible wind.” She took the Bard’s cloak and bag from him and hung them on the hook just inside the door. The Bard stepped inside and was assailed by a myriad of scents which made him feel warm and comfortable.

“There is no place on the whole wide Earth like your hearth, Brigga.” The Bard settled himself next to the fire in the large rocking chair, and placed his hands close to the flames to warm them. Brigga smiled as if her face would split with the joy of the compliment, and set about to get the Bard a hot cup of tea and a thick slice of fresh bread with honey.

“It will not be long before we are overrun, Seneschal, so enjoy your peace while you may find it,” she laughed, thinking of how much noise and mess her boys made.

The Bard smiled a warm smile, and said, “That is part of the charm of your hearth, Brigga. Without the chaos, it would not seem like a home, eh ?”

By the time the Bard had finished his small meal, and was just drinking his second cup of tea, the door opened and the wind blew in, tossing leaves and a spitting of snow through the hole it had made in the side of the cottage. A large man stepped inside, stomping his feet to get as much mud off of his boots as possible, before tramping it all over his wife’s floors, which were freshly strewn this day with sweet grasses and herbs. Close behind him came more men, or rather large boys, each of them stamping their feet as their father had done, and making a most terrible racket. In all, before the door finally closed out the cold, five young men followed their father into the cottage, and crowded around the fire to warm their cold, reddened hands.

Brigga came in from the back room, fussing and shooing them all away from crushing the poor Bard, who was towered over by all those cold frames, which still held the scent of the livestock and the crisp air about them.
“Have a care,” she shouted at them, “don’t be damaging the Seneschal !”

“Welcome, and be in health, Seneschal,” said the big burly man, who’s name was Bjeorn.

The boys all moved a bit back, then, seeming for the first time to notice the Bard sitting in his chair by the fire. They all mumbled apologies, none being able to be understood clearly, for all of them talking at once. The Bard smiled and got up from his chair. “I have thawed myself sufficiently, it is time others had their share of the fire.” And he moved back into the cottage further to sit on one of the long benches by the wall.

They all found seats, as best they could, near the hearth while Brigga one by one handed them mugs of tea to warm their insides as well as they were trying to warm their outsides.

“It will be a little while ‘til dinner, yet,” she told them all. They all settled in to sit and work on various things until dinner.

Dylan and Colin sat on a bench at the far side of the hearth, playing a dice game, and arguing over who was winning or cheating. Eli and Jacob, meanwhile, were busy crafting new skis for the snows to come. Their old skis had grown too small for them, and would be handed down to Colin and Dylan. The wood shavings piled up at their feet as they worked away at the lengths of wood.

Samuel sat off by himself, the youngest of the five brothers, he was always trying to find a peaceful place, and rarely ever achieved it. He sat now, half hidden among the cloaks hung upon the wall, studying the Bard, and wondering where he came from, and where he might go upon leaving their hearth. The Bard, knowing he was being watched, pretended to doze in his seat.

Dinner was finally served and they all sat eating, each one trying to talk louder than the next. They argued over livestock, crops, and how deep the snow would get this year. Sam sat through it all, eating quietly, still watching the Bard out of the corner of his eye. It was rude to stare, and would earn him a cuff to the head, if caught, so he was trying not to be too obvious about it. The Bard smiled down at Sam’s end of the table, and winked, though, so Sam knew he had been found out. The wink, however, made him feel less ashamed of his rudeness, since it told him that the Bard didn’t mind being watched.

When dinner was finally finished, and the trenchers cleared away, they all sat back to relax in the warm main room. Brigga sat near the fire with her spinning, and Bjeorn sat smoking his pipe, reflectively staring into the fire. Eli and Jake had gone back to their skis. Hoping that there would be snow to try them out on, soon, they wanted to get them done. Colin sat at their feet, playing in the shavings and trying to watch them closely, so that next year he might be allowed to make his own skis.

Dylan sat on a bench near the wall, trying to put a new string on his harp. It was giving him troubles, and just wouldn’t go through the holes properly. The Bard smiled at the scene, and heaved a great sigh, trying to settle the enormous amount of food he had eaten.

“A harp is a magickal thing, you know,” he said to no one in particular. They all immediately gave him their full attention, sensing that a tale was forthcoming. Samuel edged closer to the Bard, so that he wouldn’t miss out on any of it.

“Yes, a magickal thing,” he said again, “but some harps are more magickal than others.”

Samuel could not be patient for the ritual of the Bard settling himself for his tale, so he asked outright, ”What harps do you mean, Seneschal ?”

“Samuel !” his mother moved to cuff him, but he easily ducked out of her reach.

The Bard gave a small chuckle, “Why, Elven harps, Samuel.” The Bard settled into a more comfortable position, for this was a long tale. Taking his cue, Brigga rushed as fast as she could to get him a cup of tea to wet his throat, so that she didn’t miss anything.

“Such a harp existed long ago, and it went on many adventures, along with its owner, a young Half Elven girl named Bronwyn. Now, Bronwyn did not go adventuring alone, but had two companions, Adam and Stephan. They were young folk, and strong of limb and heart.

Adam was a born forester, and Stephan a born nobleman, but the two of them got on well enough, once they decided they would not kill each other. In fact, they grew to be three such close friends as to make even their friendship seem magickal.”

The Bard paused to take a drink of his tea, and to settle his mind on just which tale to tell of the Forestwife’s daughter, and her magickal adventures….

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 1 -

Bronwyn stooped to wash her face in the stream, and gazed up at the sky, which was reflected in the water. A flock of geese were winging their noisy way south, and she looked up at them with her eyes shielded in the morning sun.

“It won’t be long before the snows come,” she said to herself. The geese got her to thinking of where they would spend the snow season. It would not do to be out sleeping in the cold, and they should have a warm fire to rest at, when night came upon them in those cold months. Just then Stephan came up behind her, carrying a pail to get water to douse their fire.

“The geese are moving,” she said to him, “and we should be moving too.”

“Don’t I know it,” Stephan said, “I about froze myself last night. It sure is getting colder at sundown, now.”
Adam walked up behind the two, carrying their drinking jugs to be filled before they set off. “Which way today ?” he asked.

“We were just getting to that,” Bronwyn said, turning to Adam. “Which way do you think ?”

Adam stood and looked around and up at the sky, and then at his friends. “Well,” he said, smiling, ”I sure have had a taste for some of Meriah’s stew and cornbread, lately. I’m about sick of eating his cooking,” he said jabbing his thumb in Stephan’s direction.

“Hey !” Stephan answered, “anytime you want to take on the job as cook, you can be my guest,” he said playfully cuffing Adam on the shoulder.

“Naw,” said Adam, “I’ll hunt it, you can cook it.”

They all laughed and finished packing their things, setting out towards Meriah’s cottage, and a warm meal that would be free of sand and grit.

~~~~~
Maggie was kept running nearly from sun-up to sun-down, lately. This was always the busiest of seasons. “As if any season were not busy,” she thought ruefully to herself. There was harvesting to do, and the cottage to get ready for winter. Robert had come from the village to supply Meriah and Maggie with a good stockpile of firewood to hold them for a few months. Her father, Billy, had killed a hog the other day, and they were busy smoking their share of it in the smokehouse. Maggie’s little brother, Jon, was constantly running to check on it, and to add more green chips to the smoldering fire underneath. In between feeding the fire, he would gather dried sticks for kindling, to put in a pile near the back door.

She was just about ready to drop from all the rushing when she saw company coming through the wood. “Oh, great, now we have more mouths to feed, which means I won’t get a moment’s rest until I fall into bed tonight,” she said to herself. Then she saw who it was who was coming, and she yelled a hello to them, cheerfully waving her arms above her head. Jon rushed out from the woods, with an armload of sticks, and began to jump up and down with excitement. He dropped most of the sticks, scattering them everywhere, before he finally stopped, because Meriah had come out and given him a stern look for all the yelling.

Meriah stood and waited for them to come into the cottage clearing. “Well,” she said, in mock anger, ”it’s about time you three decided to work your way back to my forest.” Adam came right up to Meriah and planted a kiss on her forehead, giving her a big hug, while she tried to shove him off of her. Meriah was not one for displays of affection, but she didn’t mind too badly, since she was so glad to see her children coming home.

Bronwyn was laughing at Meriah and Adam, while Stephan stood by, not sure of how to react to it all. This was the first they had been back to the cottage since the whole business with Blackthorne and saving Rebecca, and from his last meeting with Meriah, he was still a bit in awe of her. Meriah turned to look at him, now, and said, “Well, you may as well have one, too” and she grabbed him and gave him a hug, which was totally out of character for her. Stephan laughed, and felt more at home and accepted, now that he had been welcomed.

Meriah finally turned to her daughter, looking her up and down. “Well,” she said. Tears were threatening to form in her eyes, so she quickly brushed at them and held her daughter and said, “I’m glad you’re all here. We could use some extra hands at harvesting.” Adam chuckled, knowing that Meriah’s soft gestures were done with for awhile.

Stephan and Adam set off to do some hunting, to help supplement the meat supply that would carry Meriah, and all those who came to her cottage, through the winter. Bronwyn and Meriah set about tying herb bundles and arranging other herbs onto cloths to dry in the fall sunshine. Maggie shelled the dried beans, and little Jon carried root crops back and forth from garden to root cellar.

“So, mother, what news of the forest is there ?” Bron asked finally, once they were settled at the table surrounded by fragrant herbs.

Meriah looked at her with a twinkle in her eye. “What I want to hear, Girl, are your tales,” she smiled at her daughter. Bronwyn laughed and began to tell Meriah of their recent adventure, and all the trouble she had with Adam and Stephan, and Edward. She told of Jack and the Elven village, and Blackthorne’s Keep, and Dylan the Watcher.

By the time she was finishing her tales, with the telling of how they decided to come home to the cottage, Jon came in and said to come quick, rushing back out as fast as he had entered.

Adam and Stephan had returned, but without meat. Instead, they carried between them a man who had been badly beaten and looked near dead. “We found him over the next valley,” Stephan said. “Looked like he was dead, but then we saw his chest moving, figured we’d better bring him back here with us.

Meriah looked the man over closely, “I have no idea who he is,” she said, “but bring him on in, maybe we can get him living and find out,” so she had Stephan and Adam carry him on into the cottage.

Once they got him settled, and Maggie was dressing his wounds, Bronwyn set out dinner for the rest of them, and set Maggie’s out, too. Having injured folk laying around was common in Meriah’s home. They took it in stride having one more, even if they had no clue as to whom this particular injured party was.



By morning the man had more color to his cheeks, and Meriah said he would live, even though he still had not woken up. Adam and Stephan did not feel right leaving a stranger laying around with the women defenseless (Bronwyn snorted at the “defenseless” part) so they stayed close to the cottage that day. Jon was pleased that they did, though, and followed them about trying to help in all they did, and basically getting under their feet. But Adam and Stephan both liked small children, so they humored him, sending him on important errands, like fetching a rope or a tool for this or that project.

By the next day, after much hammering and pounding, they had done some repairs on the hen-house, and patched the holes in Meriah’s roof. And that evening at dinner, as they settled in to refresh themselves, the strange man awoke and seemed to be so much better off, that he asked for some food.

Adam immediately wanted answers to all the questions which had been forming in his mind the last two days, but Meriah shushed him and told him to leave it be ‘til the poor man was stronger. And since the stranger still slept more than spoke, he let it go.

By the next morning, though, the man seemed to be full of energy, and eager to be gone from the cottage, and from the wood. Adam and Stephan came into the cottage just as Maggie was arguing with the man to make him stay in bed.

“Now,” she was saying, “you’ll be tearing off your bandages, and making yourself bleed again, lie still.” Poor Maggie seemed to be at her wit’s end.

“I’m fine, I tell you, allow me to leave, please, I want to be clear of this forest before dark.” The man was protesting.

Maggie growled in desperation and turned to Adam for help.

“Now, see here, fellow,” Adam said to him, walking over to stand over the man, “You’ll do what the lady says, or answer to me.”

“For goodness sake, Adam,” Bronwyn said coming in then, “He is here to heal, not to be mauled some more.” She walked over to the man who looked a bit fearful of Adam standing over him.

“Just lie back,” she said to the man, “You’re safe here, there’s naught can touch you in this cottage.” The man still seemed distressed, but he lay back down on his pillows, muttering to himself.

Maggie stood back, wiping her brow, “I may never get the hang of this Forestwifing,” she said, “How do you make them heal when they don’t want to ?” Bronwyn laughed, then, and told her not to worry, some folks are just more hard headed than others. This last was said with a meaningful look in Adam’s direction, one he did not miss, and he sneered and walked out the door.



Meriah was gone for most of the day, making rounds of those whom she regularly doctored, checking in on those who had been ill, and were mending, and asking questions of anyone she saw if they knew who the strange man might be. She had no luck at all in finding any answers, until her last stop of the day. She had dropped in at Thomas the Miller’s widow’s place, to see how she and the children were getting on, and she asked the question which she had asked everyone she had seen that day.

“Why, yes, there was a stranger come through a few days back,” Jenny, the Miller’s widow told her. “He was a trader, going home for the season, he said. He stopped to dinner. Said he hadn’t been to any houses in the village, since most of his stock was gone. He did give me some candle wicks, as a thank you for the meal, then he went on his way into the forest. He said it wouldn’t be seemly for him to stay, what with me having no man around and all, so he figured on sleeping in the forest. Said he’d done it enough times, he was used to it by now….” Jenny would have gone on all day, if Meriah had not stopped her.

“Do you recall his name ?” she asked Jenny.

“Why, it was something like….” Jenny frowned, trying to come up with the name that seemed to escape her. She was not the brightest shilling in the purse, so Meriah did not expect much from her in the way of information, but anything would help. “Smith ? No,” Jenny shook her head, “Smythe !” she exclaimed, “that was it, Smythe, with a long I sound.”

“Jenny,” Meriah began, “He didn’t seem worried for sleeping in the forest ? ‘Didn’t mention he’d had any troubles on the road ?”

Jenny shook her head emphatically, “Why no, Meriah, he seemed just as pleased to be off and sleeping on the cold ground as anything.”

Jenny was off and babbling again, so Meriah waited until she paused for breath and said, “Well, if all is well here, I’d better be getting on towards home, I have guests staying, you know.” That bit of news had Jenny’s eyes lighting up with wanting to gossip more about Bronwyn and the Prince and all that had happened, but Meriah put her off ‘til another day.



Meriah arrived home to find the young folk all gathered around the kitchen table, shelling more beans. She thought it odd that the men would be inside working at such, but didn’t say anything. She knew she would hear the why of it, later. She sent Adam out, later in the afternoon, to check on the chickens, saying she had heard a noise, and she followed him out to ask him what was happening that made them all sit inside for the day.

“Well,” Adam began, “Your guest decided to go on his way, and Maggie was having a bit of trouble telling him differently. Bronwyn seemed to calm him, but Stephan and I figured we would stay close, just in case he decided to give them any more trouble.”

“Whatever happened to that man, he is much frightened by it,” Meriah said to Adam.

“He seemed to want to be out of the forest before dark, kept muttering something about wolves. Have there been many wolves in these parts recently ?”

“No more than usual,” Meriah said, “and you know a wolf will not attack a man unless it is sick, or too hungry to care. Although, some of those wounds he had did seem almost like bites. Do you think there might be a mad one running about?”

“I don’t know,” Adam replied, “I’ll tell you what, though, if you are planning on staying put tomorrow, Stephan and I can go hunting, see what we can find out there.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Don’t say anything in front of Maggie, though. She’d be no good to me at all tomorrow if she were jumping at every sound in the forest, convinced some wild creature was going to rush out of it an attack her.”

Adam laughed and assured Meriah that he would keep silent about it in front of Maggie, “And Jon, too, the last thing we need is for him to decide to go off being a man and hunting that wolf.”

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 2 -

The next morning, Meriah decided that her patient was well enough to answer some questions. She waited until the men had gone off hunting for whatever might be out there, and she sat down with a cup of tea and some food for the man.

“So,” she asked Smythe, “What is it that brings you to my cottage so beaten and bleeding ?” The man stopped eating and looked at her with fear in his eyes.

“You’d not believe it, Ma’am,” he began, “But you got a werewolf out in them woods of yours.”

Meriah laughed, then, “Werewolf ?” she asked, “What makes you think we have such a creature out lurking in my forest?”

“It’s true,” he insisted, “I knew you’d not believe it, and if I weren’t there, and attacked by it myself, I’d have to scoff, too.”

“Perhaps you saw a wolf in the dark, and imagined it to be a man. Or perhaps a man who disguised himself as a wolf. I tell you sir, I have seen many things, many of them unbelievable, but never have I seen a werewolf.”

“I tell the truth Ma’am,” Smythe insisted again, “It weren’t a wolf, nor a man, but something in between. I only pray to the saints that I haven’t been bit.” The man crossed himself and muttered a blessing before going on. “I really should be getting home,” he said. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I’d truly like to be away from these woods as soon as I am able.”

Meriah looked deeply into the man’s eyes. Whatever tale he told, he truly believed it. There was real fear in his eyes, and no sense of lying in his speech. “Alright, then,” she said to him, “I suppose I cannot keep you any longer than you are ill. However, I do wish you would stay a few days until this is cleared up. The last thing I need is for you to go spreading tales of werewolves and have my forest overrun with folks trying to make a name for themselves by hunting it down.”

“I won’t tell a soul, Ma’am, not and have them lock me up for fear I’ll turn to one, too.”

“Hmmm,” Meriah said, and left the man to his meal.



The men did not return until very late in the day. It was nearly dark by the time they came into the clearing, and Bronwyn had begun to worry about her friends. She did not believe the man’s tale of werewolves any more than Meriah had, but she could not discount the fact that the man had been badly hurt, whatever had gotten to him. She met them now at the edge of the clearing, trying to determine that they were safe and whole.

Adam, being his usual sarcastic self, swung down from his horse and smiled broadly at Bron, “Did you miss me much ?”

She gave him a withering look and said, ”Not much, I just was worried the horses hadn’t been cared for all this time you’ve been gone.”

“Your concern for our safety is heartwarming,” Stephan said, laughing.

“Did you see anything ?” Bron asked serious again.

“Not a thing,” Adam answered. “Any new news from our guest ?”

Bronwyn laughed nervously, “You won’t believe it,” she said, and then she told them the Trader’s tale. When she had finished, Adam and Stephan were torn between laughing and trying to determine if Bron was playing a joke on them.

“You’re serious ?” Stephan asked.

“He is serious,” Bron replied, “I find it hard to believe, myself, but he believes it totally.”

“Well, I’ll have to ask him more about it myself, then” Adam said heading for the cottage.

“You can’t,” Bron told him, and he stopped and turned to look at her.

“And why is that ? Has he turned into a wolf and run off into the forest ?” Adam said. Stephan laughed at this, even if Bron didn’t.

“No, but he has gone. Mother didn’t see how she could keep him here against his will. He wanted to be gone, and was well enough to leave, so he left.”

Adam swore under his breath, “I wish she had waited to send him off until we returned. If the man is talking crazy, there is no telling what he might come back and do. I’d have liked to escort him out of this forest altogether.”

“He left pretty fast, Adam, I doubt he is still around. Besides, if you and Stephan saw him nowhere, then he is probably miles away by now.”

“All the same,” Stephan said, “It would have been nice to have had a chat with our battered friend.”

“I’d have liked to have had more than a chat with him,” Adam said angrily, and he walked on into the cottage.



The next few days were uneventful, or as uneventful as they ever were at Meriah’s cottage. The men went out every morning, to see if they could see any wolf tracks nearby, or find any evidence of a mad wolf running around, but they never found a thing. They did bring in a deer and a few rabbits, for Meriah’s larder, and spent afternoons cleaning them out and working around the cottage yard on various things.

Meriah, Bronwyn and Maggie got most of the harvest in, and the hog, which had been smoking all this time, was finally wrapped and hung in the eaves of the cottage roof. Winternights were nearly upon them, and the men wanted to do some adding on to the cottage, so as to make everyone more comfortable during the long cold months.

“Besides,” Stephan told Meriah, “With all the patients you seem to get here, it’ll make you and Maggie more comfortable, too, once we leave again in the spring.” Meriah was glad to have an addition to her cottage. She had been wanting more room anyway, and merrily supervised the work, nearly driving Adam and Stephan to distraction with her perfectionist demands.

It took them a week of working every day, but they finally had the addition framed in and were working on the extra furniture needed for sleeping and sitting. The work on the furniture needed no more of Meriah’s supervision, and they were both quite glad of that.

They had had no visitors, since the battered trader, but they kept their eyes and ears open for any news of strange events happening. Whenever Meriah went on her rounds of the village and forest she would keep her senses open for any odd gossip. Winternights came and went, with the little group having their own small festival in the woods.

Meriah thought it odd that no one came much to the cottage, since she usually had visitors nearly every day, even if it were just a sniffle or a splinter.

Finally she had some news of events unfolding and it was not good news at all. She hurried home one afternoon, after tending her families, to gather all of them into the cottage to sit and hear what she had learned.

“Well,” she said, “There is trouble in the wood.”

“What do you mean, Mother ?” Bronwyn asked, anxiously.

“It seems,” she said, “That another healer has shown up and is promising miracle cures, performing magick willy nilly, and more or less gathering everyone to her for some purpose all her own. Now, I am not the jealous sort, and I wouldn’t care so much, except I know this one, and she is no healer. Or at least not an honest one.”

“Then what is her purpose ?” Stephan asked.

“Power,” Meriah said with a sneer, “power and fortune. She cares no more for the folk hereabouts than she cared for hearing me tell her what it takes to be a real healer.”

“How do you know this woman, Meriah ?” Maggie asked.

“Oh,” Meriah said, “she came to me, before I took you on, asking me to teach her. She stayed a bit, learned a little, very little, and then I bid her leave. She did not wish to be a mere healer, not that one. She wanted to learn magick and wanted to impress the folk here in the forest to more or less worship her like a Goddess. “ The look on Meriah’s face showed what she thought of this other woman. “Her name is Imellia, and she is nothing more than a showoff and a troublemaker.”

“But the people are going to her, instead of coming here ?” Maggie asked, worried.

“Oh, they will learn soon enough, her cures don’t last. She can make a few tisanes, an ointment or two, but that is about the extent of her capabilities. They do say, though, that she is working magick, and that worries me.”

“What sort of magick ?” Stephan asked then, remembering the trouble they had with Blackthorne.

“I’ve heard all sorts of things. One said she cured a burn with a chant and a wave of her hand. Cleaned it clear off their hand, left no scar. There isn’t any harm in that, but it is the other that has me worrying. Biddy told me that she has this hound, a huge thing, slavering and growling at anyone who comes near. Looks nearly like a wolf, but strange, not quite right like a wolf would be.”

Adam sat straighter at this, “A wolf ?”

Meriah nodded at him, “Just what I thought, Adam, strange wolf-like animals seem to be cropping up all over the place lately, don’t they ?”

“Perhaps I should ride on over and pay this Imellia a visit,” Adam said.

“I’m not sure that would do any good, Adam, and might make things worse. I think it would be best just to leave her to dig her own grave. The folks around here love a new tale and a new face, but they’ll come back to the one who cures them, and doesn’t make promises she can’t keep.”

Adam still wanted to go off and confront this woman head on, but Meriah made him swear to keep his peace and just behave himself until she learned more of the situation. As it turned out, they didn’t have long to wait before hearing more amazing tales.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imellia rose out of bed and pulled her shift over her head, smoothing the magickally stitched symbols down, so they all showed bright and clean. She pulled her magickal pendant out from inside the shift, so it would gleam brightly in the sunshine. Twisting her hair into a knot, she walked out to the garden, grabbing a dish of food for the beast as she went. As she passed his shed, she heard him growling and moaning within, but she ignored that and tossed the food towards the open doorway. “I wish I had a spell to make you less disgusting,” she said to him with a sneer, as she watched him swallow the food without hardly chewing at all.

She entered her garden and stood there for a moment with her eyes closed. She breathed deeply the fragrant herbs which were warming in the sunshine, and went to stroke a flower or two she had thrown into the beds for beauty.

“I feel such power here in my garden,” she smiled to herself, “all that which I have planted and harvested, all these herbs here for my use, just waiting for me to snip them and make magick. Pure untapped power grows here.” She spotted a bug and squashed it between her fingers. “Nasty creature,” she said, “how dare you foul my garden and try to take what is mine.” She huffed and walked back into the house with a handful of peppermint to make herself a morning cup of tea.

She had been very busy lately. It seemed that all of Meriah’s patients were now coming to her, “Even those who she visits regularly. They sneak over here, after she has gone, to get My cures,” she held her head high and gazed off into the morning light, imagining how fine it would be to finally openly destroy that common garden witch and to show these village idiots just what a real witch could do.

She was jolted out of this pleasant daydream by the sound of her beast dragging his chain and howling loudly at someone who had entered the cottage yard. She leaned over to better see out the door who it might be and then stood majestically, and walked slowly out to greet them.

“Quiet, beast !” she said with a commanding air, and the beast was quieted.

The woman who stood before her seemed a bit nervous for being at her doorstep. She held the scarf, which she usually wore in her hair, in her hands, twisting it into knots.

“Why, Biddy, what can I do for you today ?” Imellia asked sweetly.

“I needed some more of that tonic you made for my Owen,” Biddy told her, looking around as if she would be seen by who knows whom. “He got really bad off again last night, coughing and hacking up blood. I’m pretty worried, this is worse than last time.” Biddy looked nearly about to cry.

“Did you give him the correct dose ?” Imellia asked in an arrogant manner, as if Biddy were too ignorant to follow directions.

“Yes, I give him just what you told me to,” Biddy said, “But he isn’t any better, he just keeps coughing, his poor body twists and turns so bad, he nearly falls out of bed with the coughing.”

“Well, perhaps if you had consulted me before you did, he would not be so ill,” Imellia said in a condescending tone. She looked off to her garden, ”I can try to make a stronger tonic, but I don’t know, he may just be too ill to be saved at this point. I’ll have to consult with my spirit guides, to see what they say.” She turned her back on poor Biddy, who had started to cry at this point, and walked on into the garden. “You really should have come to me sooner, Biddy,” she said accusingly over her shoulder.

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 3 -

Bronwyn was not as nonchalant about this new healer in the forest as her mother was. Meriah had told Adam that he was not allowed to go visiting Imellia, but she never directly told Bron not to, so she took that as consent. “I know, I know,” she said angrily to her conscience, “but it is the best consent I can get right now.”

She made the excuse of going off into the wood to gather in the last of the season’s wild herbs which she might find, and to look for some of the Elven herbs which she had learned about in their village. She was half afraid that Meriah would make one of the men go along, or even Maggie, but she managed to sneak off without being accompanied, and was grateful for the escape.

She made her way into the village, first, to visit Jenny, or Biddy, both of whom loved to gossip so much that she figured she would have no trouble finding directions straight to this Imellia’s door. As luck would have it, she found them both at Jenny’s house, having tea, while Jenny comforted poor Biddy. She knocked on the front door which was answered by Jenny, who looked both pleased at the thought of juicy gossip, and yet saddened at the plight of her poor friend Biddy.

Bron walked on in to find Biddy sitting at the kitchen table, laying on the table, rather, and weeping bitterly into her scarf. Her tea sat by untouched, and looked as if it had sat for a long while. A fly floated in it, already dead.
Bronwyn walked over to Biddy and laid a hand on her shoulder, comfortingly, trying to determine what would cause so much distress in the simple woman. Jenny was more than happy to relate the sad details, while Biddy moaned and cried and wailed for punctuation.

“It turns out,” Jenny began, leaning forward towards Bron as if imparting some secret wisdom for her ears only, “that that new healer you got in the wood give Biddy some tonic for her boy Owen. You remember Owen, nice boy, a bit too rough on some of the younger ones, but all the same, a nice lad. Tall, rather brutish looking,” Biddy wailed at this, and Jenny laid a hand on her arm to quiet her. “Well, anyway, this Imellia give her a tonic, and it didn’t do no good. Poor Owen just got worse and worse, and this morning he up and died. He just give up, the poor thing.” Biddy was really wailing at this bit of news.

“Well,” Jenny went on with hardly a pause, “You see, this Imellia, she told Biddy it was her fault, for not bringing her Owen to her sooner, and for counting on cures from your Mother. She said just terrible things about your Mama, who, by the way, is a saint in common garb, just like the priests are always talking about. Of course, they don’t say it in reference to her, but you know what I mean. Why I would never go to anyone else besides your Mama, and I just can’t imagine what could have happened to poor Owen to make him go off like that.”

Bronwyn was trying her best to follow the disjointed speech that Jenny was giving her, and only caught the basic gist of it. She figured, rather than trying to find this Imellia today, her first duty was to comfort poor Biddy, who, though simple and somewhat ignorant, was truly a fine person.

“Biddy,” she said to her, tapping her arm to get attention, “why don’t you come with me out to Mother’s and perhaps you can talk to her about this.”

Biddy looked up at Bronwyn with fear in her eyes, her face so reddened and swollen from crying that she was nearly unrecognizable. “Oh ! I couldn’t, Bronwyn, I just couldn’t ! I’ve killed my poor Owen because I didn’t do the right thing, and I know your Mother, well, she would just take one look at me and know me for a murderer.” Biddy went off into more crying and put her face back down on the table.

“Nonsense !” Bron said to her, “My mother would understand. Sometimes there is just nothing that can be done.” Biddy didn’t seem to be listening. “Biddy,” Bronwyn dragged the woman’s face up to look at her, “You did not kill Owen! If that woman told you this then she is no sort of healer that I have ever come across.” Bronwyn was very angry at this point. Not only had this Imellia failed to save the poor departed Owen, who may have been a lost cause anyway, but instead of saying so, she turned the guilt over to the lad’s mother, who had never harmed a soul in her whole life.

“Oh, but her spirit guides said it was so, Bronwyn, they said that I had waited too long, and it was my lack of respect for the magickal world which brought this all onto him.” Bronwyn wished that Imellia were standing before her now, she would show her respect for magickal worlds, alright !

“Biddy,” she said to the woman, “I’m going home now, and I am going to have my mother come check in on you.”

“No, please, Bronwyn, don’t send her to me, I am wicked, I have failed my children, I am not worthy to be a mother.”

“I am sending her to you, because you need some comfort, and you need to hear from her that you are not a monster, Biddy. If anyone is a monster then it is this Imellia person,” Bron nearly growled in anger. She left the two women at the kitchen table, Biddy still wailing and Jenny clucking over her trying to comfort her friend.


Bronwyn stalked home through the wood, still angry, sputtering to herself about false magicians and false healers and the damage they do to the innocents of the world. She was still angrily muttering as she walked into the cottage yard back at Meriah’s. Stephan smiled at her, “Have a good walk ?” he asked, before he noticed her anger.

Bronwyn turned to Stephan and gave him a look which would kill, if such things were possible, and merely stomped into the cottage to find Meriah.

She gave Meriah the full story, as she remembered it from between the ramblings of Jenny, and when she was done, Meriah merely sat at the table, without saying a word. Bronwyn looked at her mother, just sitting, calmly, and asked, “Well ? aren’t you going to do something ?” She was still angry, and was taking it out on anyone who might be in her line of sight.

Meriah looked at her daughter, then, and said calmly, yet sadly, “What would you have me do Bronwyn ?”

Bronwyn’s mouth dropped open at the realization that her mother still intended to sit back and allow this other woman to do her “healing”.

“Anything !” she shouted at Meriah, “Something ! Just stop this woman, come on Mother, can’t you see she is a danger to the village, to you, to us ?” Bronwyn walked around the kitchen, waving her hands in the air for emphasis as she talked.

“Sit down, daughter,” Meriah said calmly. Bronwyn sat, folding her arms across her chest, wanting to fight, but not having anything to fight with. “I cannot make the folk of the village see reason if I go off angry and raging about, or at, this woman. I understand your anger, I am angry, too, but we must handle this with reason, not anger.”

“First,” Meriah continued, “we must comfort poor Biddy, and see that she is not too out of herself to deal with burying that boy of hers. Jenny is there for her, I know, but Jenny is more interested in gossip than mundane matters. She would have Biddy sitting there crying for days, while Owen rots in his bed.” Bronwyn seemed to be calming a bit, with Meriah speaking to her of common sense matters, and putting a course of action down for her to understand. “Once we deal with Biddy and her problem, then we can decide what to do about Imellia.”

Bronwyn was still worried, though. “And how many folk will she harm while we are dealing with Biddy ?” She asked her mother.

“I am not responsible for every life in this wood, or around it, daughter. I can do what I can do, and that is all.”

Meriah understood her daughter’s anger better than anyone would. She remembered her passion to go hunting down Blackthorne when her own Weland was killed at his hands. She learned, though, that passion and anger got you into more trouble than a calm sense of direction would. She also knew that trying to explain this to Bronwyn would do no good, it was something she had to learn for herself.


They went out and found Adam and Stephan working on a bed they were making for the addition. Maggie was off to her parent’s home, for the day, and she had taken Jon with her.

“We have business to deal with in town,” she said to the men. “Biddy’s boy Owen has died, and needs to be buried. Now, I know she is in with the Church, but someone is going to have to notify them to come plan the burying, or she will not get it done. Perhaps you two boys could go to the priest and get him to go on down to Biddy’s this afternoon to see about it. Bronwyn and I are going to go find Biddy and get her to calm a bit and see some sense in all of this.”

The men agreed, and they all went off into the village to see what they could do to set this matter to rights. Bronwyn and Meriah went straight to Jenny’s and found Biddy still there, seemingly not having moved at all, and Jenny still rambling on at her about how Owen has been called to a better place and she need not fear for him anymore. When Meriah walked into the kitchen and Biddy saw her she nearly fled the house.

“Sit yourself down, Biddy, and stop this nonsense right this minute !” Meriah said to her in a stern voice. Biddy obeyed and sat back down at the table, but she had stopped crying for the first time in hours. Instead she looked like she had been caught at some indescribable sin and was facing the Lord himself in answer for it.

Meriah felt sorry for the woman, but being soft on her was only going to have her sobbing again, so she figured to talk common sense to her, and if need be, talk a bit of hard facts, too.

“Now, Biddy,” Biddy would not look directly at Meriah, “I want you to tell me all about Owen, his illness, how it started, what his complaints were, anything you can remember.”

Biddy went into her tale of how her poor Owen began to be ill, and the final conclusion, which was just horrible to watch, and Oh how she wished she had done something more for him. Meriah sat listening to it all, not saying a word until Biddy had finished.

She heaved a big sigh, then, and said to her, “Biddy, Owen was very ill. It is not your fault he is dead, it isn’t anyone’s fault. Why, you’ve been bringing him to me for years for the same complaint, and every time it gets worse. Do you remember I told you last time that he was not going to live to be an old man ? You didn’t want to hear it, but I had to say it, so you wouldn’t be in the mess you are in now. All that could be done for Owen was to comfort him and ease his suffering. Nothing on this earth was going to stop the disease he had inside of him.
If someone has told you they could cure him, then they lied to you. Being his mother, and loving him as I know you did, Biddy, I can see how you would want to believe that with all your heart, but it just wasn’t true.”

Biddy seemed to be more calm, now, and she was drying her face on a new scarf which Bron had found for her. She blew her nose loudly, now, and seemed to be near normal, or as normal as a mother can be who has lost a child.

“You did tell me that, but I didn’t want to believe it,” she sniffled. “Imellia said it was just that he needed magickal healing, and that was something only she could give me. She said I didn’t bring him soon enough, and if I had, he’d be dancing and running still, and not, not, well…” she shook her head and started to weep again, but it was a calm weeping, so Meriah felt it safe to go easier on her.

“Biddy,” she said, laying a hand on her arm again, “You did all you could for that boy. And I’m sure he knew it, too.”

Biddy heaved a big sigh, as if she had finally made peace with herself for her son’s untimely death. She looked to Meriah and said, “Do you think he is in heaven with the Sweet Lord ?” Meriah, not being a Christian, but understanding their ways answered, “I am sure he is with his God, Biddy, because deep down he was a good boy, and God always looks deep down before he looks at surface things, doesn’t he ?” Biddy smiled and nodded.

Meriah straightened, then, and turned to Bron, who looked as tired out from the whole ordeal as Biddy did. “Well, Adam and Stephan must have gotten in to talk to that Priest by now. We’d better be getting Biddy on home so she can make the necessary arrangements.”

Biddy rose and sniffled into her scarf one last time, “Thank you Meriah, and you too Bronwyn. I don’t know what I woulda done without you coming here to me today.”

She turned to Jenny and hugged her friend. “I’ll be by later to check in on you and I’ll bring you a bite to eat,” Jenny said. Biddy nodded her thanks and walked out the door with Meriah and Bronwyn.

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 4 -

They were all sitting around the kitchen table one night for dinner, when they heard a knock at the door. It had been three days since Owen’s funeral, and Meriah was just getting over being angry at the Priests for all their talk of Hell when they ought to have been comforting Biddy. Stephan got up to answer the door and opened it to see Jon standing outside, looking very frightened. Maggie immediately left her chair and ran and dragged Jon in the door.

“What are you doing out this time of night ?” she asked him, “Don’t you have sense not to be roaming the woods in this weather in the dark ?”

Jon was out of breath, for he had been running hard to get to Meriah’s cottage, and he tried to tell them why he was there, but was having a difficult time of it. Stephan had him sit down, and take a drink of water before going on, and that seemed to calm him a bit.

“I was out looking for Molly,” Jon began, “she got out again, because the fence is down, and father sent all of us out looking for her.” Jon was nearly in tears by this time, now that he had caught his breath again.

“Who’s Molly ?” Stephan asked.

“Molly is the family cow,” Maggie answered. “Ahhh,” he said nodding.

“Jon, what happened to have you all the way over here out of breath ?” Maggie asked.

“There was a hound, or a wolf, I don’t know which, it killed Molly. I came over a hill and it was eating on her. I don’t think it saw me. I ran, I ran as fast as I could before it could come after me. I was closer to here than home, so I came here.” Adam was looking quite angry by now, and stood to get his jacket on and grabbed his bow.

“You did right, Jon,” Maggie said, comforting him.

“Where are you going, Adam ?” Meriah said, as Stephan also rose to put on his own jacket and grab his sword off the wall.

“Hunting,” Adam replied as he walked out the door.

Bronwyn jumped up from the table and ran out the door after Adam and Stephan. “And how are you going to find anything in the dark ?” she asked them.

“I’ll find it,” Adam replied. “And when I kill the thing I’ll take it home to its master and demand she pay Billy back for his cow. While I’m at it, maybe I’ll demand she pay Biddy back for her son, too.”

“Adam, you cannot go off angry,” Meriah said, coming out of the cottage. “There is a time and a place for anger, and hunting in anger is not a good idea. You’re libel to shoot poor Stephan here, or one of Billy’s children.”

“I have never missed a shot before in my life, Meriah, and I won’t this time either.” Adam was angry enough to argue with Meriah, something he had never done before, in Bronwyn’s recollection.

“Then I’m coming too,” Bronwyn said.

“No.” Adam was not taking suggestions from anyone at the moment.

“I will come,” Bron said, “How are you going to stop me ?”

“Suit yourself then, but don’t whine to me to carry you home if I shoot you.”

“I thought you said you never miss a shot,” Bron said sarcastically.

“I don’t,” he called back over his shoulder.

“Bronwyn, you do not need to go,” Meriah was saying.

“I think I do need to go, Mother, don’t worry, I’ll calm him down before he goes off to Imellia’s.”

Stephan and Bronwyn ran to catch up to Adam who was nearly halfway across the little valley where Meriah’s cottage stood.

“Adam,” Bronwyn was trying to catch up to him, but he was walking faster than she could, “Adam slow down !”

“No time,” he said, “This animal is not going to harm anyone or anything else, if I have my say in it.”

They stopped talking then, for being out of breath. ‘Adam is pretty angry,’ Bron thought, ‘angrier than I’ve ever seen him.’ She couldn’t figure out what it was that made him so obsessive about this wolf. Ever since she had told him the trader’s tale he had been looking to find this beast and kill it. He had never been so adamant about anything before in his life. Well, except for his hatred of the nobles, but that was a different story altogether. He had reason to hate them, and she saw no reason to his anger, now.

They had gone quite a ways when she finally decided to make him see common sense and go home. “Adam, if it is a wolf, then it is just doing what wolves do,” she said.

“Shhh,” he was holding his hand back to her, and he had stopped. He slowly crept up over the hill before them, and crouched as low as he could, so as not to be seen by anything or anyone. “Do you smell that ?” he asked, making a face. Motioning for them to crouch low and follow him to the top of the hill. They both followed him quietly as they could, and then when they got to the top of the hill they all lay down on their bellies in the dirt and leaves of the forest floor.

“What in Gods name is that stink?” Stephan asked in a whisper.

“Ever been to a cow butchering ?” Adam asked him. “Cows got lots of stomachs, you know, not all of them contain sweet grass.” They were trying to see down into the valley beneath them, but the moon had gone behind a cloud, and blocked out any light in the dark forest.

They could hear the sounds of the beast down below, eating on poor Molly, but could get no good line on where exactly it might be. Just then, the clouds parted briefly, and they caught a glimpse of the beast, hovering over the cow below. It looked like maybe the biggest wolf any of them had ever seen, but it also looked odd. Not exactly wolf shaped, but seemed almost to have longer legs and even seemed to be using it’s front legs to gather in more meat off the cow.

“Sweet Jesus !” Stephan said in a whisper, and crossed himself. The wolf beast stood then, and looked back in their direction. Bronwyn almost screamed, then, because it was standing on its hind feet, as if it were a man. Stephan put his hand over her mouth before she could make a sound, and she quickly slapped his hand away.

Adam was not saying anything, or moving at all. He lay there, transfixed by the sight before him. The beast ran off into the dark, then, and they quickly lost track of its trail. It moved so quickly they hardly had time to react, much less take a shot at it.

Adam took a deep breath then, and rolled over onto his back to look up at the tree tops, still not speaking.

“What was that ?” Stephan asked. Bronwyn had no answer for him, for she hadn’t a clue either.

“That,” Adam said, “was Mr. Smythe’s wolfman.” Adam seemed almost out of breath, even though he hadn’t been running for some time now. His heart was beating so hard he was sure that everyone could hear it.

They all three got up, then, and walked down into the valley to see how much was left of poor Molly. They could tell, once they got there, that not much was left, and it wouldn’t do much good to try to take her back to Billy’s. Adam’s hands were shaking still, from the sight he had just witnessed. He said nothing more all the way back to Meriah’s cottage, and once there, he merely went inside and sat at the table in silence.

Maggie was sitting in one of the other chairs, and Meriah had been over working at her spinning, when they got back. Meriah had been glad that none of them were hurt, but Adam’s face still made her uneasy. She left her spinning to go over and sit at the table and look at him.

“Maggie, why don’t you get us all some tea,” she said calmly, and quietly so as not to get wake Jon and frighten him. Maggie got up and went to the stove to pour them tea from the hot kettle that always sat on a back burner. When she had given all the cups out, and they all sat at the table, Meriah finally asked, “So, did you find your wolf, Adam ?”

Adam turned to look at Meriah and said, finally, “We need to go have a talk with Imellia tomorrow. And don’t tell me no,” he said with fear still in his eyes.

Meriah looked at him then, and said calmly, “Alright, I suppose it is time.” Adam looked down into his tea cup and drank half of it in one gulp. He didn’t say anything else the rest of the evening.

Jon stayed at Meriah’s house that night. Billy finally came looking for him, but by then it was so late, and Jon was sleeping, that Meriah said to leave him be. Stephan and Bronwyn filled Billy in on the news that his cow was a lost cause, saying only that a wolf had gone after it and eaten most of it down by the time they found it. The less he knew, Meriah had said, the better for him. Stephan and Bronwyn, before Billy had arrived, had filled Meriah in on what they had seen. Adam was outside the cottage while they told it. He had gone out to sit and watch the woods, holding his bow at the ready. That thing had frightened him more than anything ever had in his whole life. Even more than Blackthorne had frightened him. Blackthorne, at least, had been human. This thing was not, and Adam wasn’t quite sure what it was.