The young boy slowly opened his eyes, rubbing them softly with the back of his knuckles as he yawned. He hadn't meant to fall asleep perched in the tree, but the sun had been so warm on his skin that he couldn't help it. If Master Oliander had been in town, the boy would have certainly received a thorough beating for being lax in his duties as one of the remote castle's servants. Thankfully, the cranky old wizard was out of town so no one cared if one of the stable boys snuck away to curl up in a tree and read his favorite book. With the Master out there would be no visitors' horses to take care of, and he'd already done his share of the little work that was left to be done. The inhabitants of the castle would care if they realized that his favorite book also happened to be one of Master Oliander's prized spell books, a fact which the boy had successfully concealed for several months.
A low whine and the faint scratching of claws on bark jolted him from his sleepy daze. Fear froze him in place as he took notice of the darkness around him. Night had fallen while he'd been sleeping, and with the daylight had gone his chance of returning home safely. The boy jumped to his feet as he realized the claws were getting closer. A cold chill ran up his spine as he caught a pair of golden eyes gleaming up at him from the base of the tree, sparkling with an unholy light. The boy knew the light of the few stars that peeked between the clouds was not enough to give the eyes of a normal wolf such a glow on this moonless night. A scream tore from his throat without his consent, alerting the werewolf below him that he was aware of the creature's presence. The boy knew what would happen next; he could already imagine the werewolf gathering itself to leap into the tree. The boy was falling before conscious thought caught up with his body, the leather-bound spell book clutched tightly against his chest. He heard the sound of snapping teeth in the air where he had just been standing, followed by a curse howled from a lupine throat.
Autumn leaves broke his fall, though not enough to keep the force of the impact with solid ground from jarring through his entire body. The boy pushed himself to his feet as soon as he landed, sparing a quick glance behind him before dashing across the fields. Panic and fear fueled his flight, the sight of golden eyes in the forest behind him enough to spur him into a frenzy to escape. He'd seen several pairs of golden eyes in the darkness and knew they were waiting to tear him apart, rip his flesh from his bones as he became the werewolves’ latest meal.
He knew the stories. He'd heard them all in his childhood when the castle women had tried to frighten him into good behavior with tales of monsters who ate disobedient children. He'd seen one once, when he was small and the Huntsman at the time had brought the leader of the pack back from the Autumn Hunt. With the beast they'd also brought home the dead bodies of twelve men from hunting party. Their bodies had been literally ripped apart by the werewolves that had caught them. Three of the men had been carried home in sacks because there wasn't enough left to fit on a litter or cart. He'd seen what the werewolves had done in the years before, when the werewolves ran the hills and slaughtered anyone who failed to bar their door and windows at night or didn't keep their hearth fires hot enough to keep the beasts from crawling down their chimneys and slaughtering them in their sleep. Those were the years when human blood had flowed freely from the teeth of the lupines, until the Huntsmen came and whittled away the packs. They were supposed to have killed them all. The werewolves were supposed to be dead. The glowing eyes he saw told him that the Huntsmen had lied.
Ragged breathing followed him in his path, the pounding of canine feet on the earthy soil sounding from all around him. Snapping teeth appeared in front of him and he screamed as he fell backward, the leather-bound book held out before him as a makeshift shield. They surrounded him, pawed feet all he could see from where he huddled on the ground. The boy waited for the sharp teeth to descend upon him, his mind providing him images of exactly how they'd dissect him and how much pain this would bring. He was curled into a ball with the book held before him, whimpering in terror. All was still for several moments before the boy worked up the courage to look around him. He peaked over the top of the book, the starry sky giving him just enough light to make out at least two-dozen wolves arrayed in a perfect circle around him. Their panted breathing blended into an eerie chant, harmonized so that it seemed like a single giant entity was breathing around him. Golden eyes stared at him from every direction, flashes of light glinting from behind the circle and the boy sensed that there was a greater number of wolves pacing outside the tight-knit circle.
A long howl sounded from the nearby trees, the sound chilling the terrified boy through to the bone. The wolves to the east parted as a massive lupine stepped among their ranks, easily the size of a small pony in height and three times its girth. A jagged scar closed off one eye of the beast, its footsteps shaking the ground as it approached the trembling boy. He froze in place, too terrified to cry for fear that any sound might prompt the beast to gut him where he lay. It circled him once, sniffing the air lightly and the boy knew it smelled his fear. The creature grinned at his weakness, eyes glowing hungrily as it watched him.
The beast stopped in front of the book and seemed to contemplate the object. The boy fought down the urge to jerk his hands away as he felt warm breath gust over his fingers and the tickle of the lupine's whiskers as it closely examined Master Oliander's spell book. Teeth closed around the book and pulled it from the boy’s unresisting fingers. He watched helplessly as the giant werewolf handed the book off to a smaller member of his pack, a heavy weight of dread settling over him as he foresaw Master Oliander‘s terrible wrath for losing the spell book to some of the wizard's most hated enemies. That was, of course, if the werewolves let him go. He half hoped the werewolves would kill him before Master Oliander found him, for he knew being ripped to shreds was not nearly as bad as what the enraged wizard would do to him.
The creature turned back to him, and the boy was riveted to the ground by the force of the giant werewolf’s gaze. He felt as if he were being sized up, measured by some hidden qualities in the werewolf’s mind. Faster than thought, the wolf made his decision and the boy screamed as dripping teeth descended on him. Furry bodies and sharp teeth surrounded him from every direction as the pack attacked him, his screams filling the cold night air.
"...that he... at all."
"We can’t... Master Oliander..."
The boy slowly rolled his head to the side and wondered why his body was so lax at responding. Voices echoed around him, blinking out at random intervals so that he only caught fragments of what the two men said to each other. His vision spun around him, making him nauseous and dizzy every time he tried to focus his eyesight. The voices stopped and moved closer. He could hear them speaking above his head, though he couldn‘t recognize who was speaking. He felt as if he were wrapped in a ball of cloth, feverishly warm under the blankets that felt too heavy a weight upon him. A cool hand descended on his forehead and shocked him with the contrast in temperatures. He mewled in pain once, or at least he attempted to. All that came out was a low, scratchy puff of breath. The voices responded to the sound, their words fading as he fell once more into unconsciousness.
The slam of wood against wood jolted him from his sleep and the boy suddenly wished he were dead as he saw the furious countenance of Master Oliander storm into the tiny room he’d been given to recuperate. Twelve days had passed since the night of the new moon when he’d lost the spell book to the band of werewolves, and in that time the staff of the castle had been codling him in any way they could to facilitate his healing. Before he could speak, the wizard had him pinned to the bed with a quick incantation. The force of the spell cut off his breath, nearly crushing him with the weight it settled upon him. Blazing eyes glared down at him as the wizard grabbed his shirt collar.
"Where’s my spell book?"
The spell around him loosened enough for him to croak out a few short words. "Werewolves... stolen..."
He would have cried out as the wizard backhanded him across the chest if he had enough breath to scream. The wizard seethed above him, hands clenching and unclenching in vicious claws as he contemplated the captive boy before him. The cruel gleam in his Master’s eyes made the boy suddenly aware that he was right to be more afraid of the wizard before him than even the most hungry of werewolves.
The wizard straightened suddenly and chanted a few words in a language the boy did not recognize. In the air above him the wizard drew a strange diagram, glowing lines appearing wherever the wizard’s finger passed.
"In penance for the loss of my spell book, I sentence you to hunt the creatures who hold it and return it to me. Until the book is in my possession once more, you will find no rest and no solace among the dwellers of this dark world." The glowing spell form dissipated from the air above him as the wizard moved aside and pointed to the door.
"Run."
The wizard’s spell compelled him from the bed. He was out the door and into the forest before the servants of the castle realized the young boy was gone.
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