Chapter Nine – The Wolf Spirit

  The wolf stalked the forest, its paws finding steady ground anywhere it desired. This was its forest. Familiar. Safe. Nothing in here dared to challenge the wolf. A single glimpse of its blue pelt sealed the fate of many lost adventurers and animals, swept away by the queen of this realm. By the great beast that called it home.

  Today, however. The wolf was not alone. As she stopped at a pond to take a drink, she saw a second wolf behind her. Much as the forest’s queen had unusual fur, this wolf’s fur was lilac. Pale, almost grey under the moonlight. She did not meet this other wolf with anger. She did not whip her head up to attack. Instead, she turned and stared. The lilac wolf was sat, resting in a patch of moonlight that had filtered through the leaves. She looked almost regal, basking in the night’s light.

  “It’s you again. It’s been some time, little cub.” The wolf spoke, her ear twitching. Her voice was soft, almost melodic, and. Familiar. The blue wolf had heard it somewhere once before, almost confirming the other wolf’s familiarity. The specifics, however, refused to come to her. The identity of her forest’s invader was a total mystery.

  “Who are you? Why have you come to my forest?”

  “...your forest?” She laughed, her tail flicking with her amusement. “Ah. Yes, I suppose that is how you would see things. You have been surrounded by trees your whole life, haven’t you, cub?” She stood up, pawing her way towards the blue beast. She placed her snout atop the blue wolf’s forehead, and the world around them both shook.

  Rather than the forest, they were in a house. Rather than two wolves... two women sat at a table. Atalanta stared at her pa- her hands, stretching her fingers as if they were an alien limb to her. Her memories came rushing back. Elland, the bandits, getting pinned down by that wall. So, then, what was this? A dream? A vision? Her attention drifted from her hands to the woman sat across from her. Her hair was the same lilac that the wolf’s pelt had been, with a pair of lupine ears that sprouting from the top of her head, in place of her regular ones. They blended in so well, she almost didn’t notice them. Almost. Perhaps the most dazzling about her, however, was that she was wearing the most gorgeous suit of armour Atalanta had ever seen. Slate-grey steel, interlaced with golden etching covered her from her shoulders to her toes, yet she seemed utterly unburdened by it. It was the kind of outfit that would only be held by a rich noble, brought out for tournaments and ceremonies. Her gauntleted hands returned from Atalanta’s forehead, overlapping on the table. A smile crept onto the wolf-woman's face.

  “Much more comfortable, isn’t it? Do you recognise this house?” Atalanta looked around. The air had an indescribable familiar scent to it. That’s all it was. Vaguely familiar. Any more than that was asking too much of her. She shook her head.

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “Right. I should have thought not. I brought you here, oh, a decade ago, now? When you first took command of my sword. It suits you far more than it suited its last wielder. You are unrefined, but you make for a great warrior.” Atalanta stared at the wolf-knight, blinking. If Balmung was her sword, surely she wanted it back, despite the praise that she was getting for being its wielder. Was that what this was? A vision of a forest, of a home? A quest given to her to return her blade to this woman? Though someone with such powerful magic surely wouldn’t need a sword that couldn’t be used as a magical focus.

  “And you’ve brought me here, why, exactly?”

  “Because, I have a quest for you, should you accept it. It will not grant riches, and I cannot promise any power at the end of it, but it would do my being some good. There exists another one like you, somewhere. Alas, I am too weak to be able to tell you where they are, you must find them yourself. We wolves are excellent trackers, however. I am sure you would be able to find our other half. Please. Find them and reunite your blade with their shield. They were never meant to be separated, not that I can blame you for it. That is a failure of my own doing.”

  Here were many things that Atalanta wanted to question. How this quest would benefit her quest giver. Her calling them both wolves – Atalanta remembered turning into one, just about, but she wasn’t a wolf herself. Beasts didn’t just become men. Men didn’t just become beasts. She was still very much herself, she was sure of that.

  “...am I the only one that’s been given this quest?”

  “By me? No, others have come before you, other wielders of Balmung. Long dead by now, I would imagine, each of them having failed in their quests. I trust that you will not disappoint me, cub. Though... my time draws to an end. Use the blade once more, and we will meet again. Remember, you are never alone in your travels, so long as you carry my will.” The purple-haired woman gave Atalanta a smile, leaving her alone in the quiet little room with more questions than she’d been given answers.

  It wasn’t the pounding of hammers, nor the raucous chatter of a dozen workmen, that eventually woke her up. No, it was the cold. A chill crept through her body, her eyes snapping open and surveying the area around her. First of note was that Balmung was with her. The warm blade swaddled up in her coat with her. Cleaned, somehow, after the battle she’d had. She couldn’t even remember where the blade went, but she was thankful she had it back. Even if its sheathe was unaccounted for. The second thing that she noticed was that she was still in Elland. Still in the exact same spot she had been before she’d fallen unconscious, or close enough to it. Behind her, half a dozen builders were busy working on repairing the village’s walls from where she’d crashed into them. She winced at that memory, her forehead throbbing as if recognising a pain she hadn’t yet acknowledged. One of the builders turned to grab another stone and just stared at her.

  “H... hey.” Her voice was hoarse and weak. Frankly, her whole body felt weak. Not just from the cold, but from the pit in her stomach that felt like it could never be filled. Skipping breakfast yesterday was clearly a terrible idea. She struggled to her feet, the builder and some of the others beginning to swarm around her.

  “She’s awake! You’re awake! Someone get the chief! And Martin, cough up your coins.” The presumed foreman barked his orders, offering her a helping hand to steady herself. She gratefully took it, being steered to a bench that’d been placed down for the workers to eat at, if the wicker baskets placed upon it were any indication.

  “Do you have any... water...?” She wasn’t sure how much of what she said was actually audible. Water, for sure. She practically spat the word out... or perhaps the foreman was just able to tell what she needed.

  “Arnold! Fetch the lady a fresh bucket of water, would you?”

  “Right away, boss!”

  By the time Arnold returned with her drink, the wooden bucket finding a new home on her lap, almost tempting her to dunk her head into it and drink as much as she could there and then, the rest of the village had gathered around. She recognised many of them. Most of them had worked to fight against those bandits, alongside her. Their bodies were covered in cloth bandages, but at least they were up an about. It could have been so much worse for them, couldn’t it. She couldn’t help but overhear some of the villages talking, however.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Is that really her?”

  “Did you see her fight?”

  “She doesn’t look like much.”

  “I heard she’d turned into a giant monster!

  “You think she could do that again?”

  “You think it’s safe to ask? Maybe it’s inf- infectious or something.”

  Through the crowd came two more familiar faces, silencing their chatter as they walked on past. Harold and the apparent war chief of the village. Maybe he was even the village’s mayor. No, villages didn’t have mayors in the same way towns did, she didn’t think. Either way, he was clearly someone of high standing within the village itself.

  “Alright, you lot. Clear out. Unless one of you is here to make her a nice warm breakfast, get back to work. Winter waits for no man, and we’ve been set back enough as is.” He stopped and knelt before her, with Hal clumsily doing the same. Her fingertips dug into the wood of her bucket. They didn’t need to be doing that. Though a warm breakfast, admittedly, did sound nice right about now. “I didn’t think you’d make it back to us, lass. We’d nearly sent a runner out to Ulssia... glad it wasn’t needed. Getting an apothecary to leave their home is- Ah, you don’t need my rambling, do you?” He waved himself off, shaking his head.

  “I’m. Sorry.” She started by herself, barely having listened to the man’s words. She saw it all around her. The injured villagers, the damaged wall, the medical fees she’d nearly forced on this place. It was all just too much.

  “Sorry? Whatever for?” She glanced at the gate, and he seemed to get the hint.

  “Ah, that old chestnut? It’s nothing. I’d rather have a ruined village than a village of ruins, haha.” What did he even mean by that? Her eyes darted to Harold and he shrugged, seemingly just as confused as Atalanta herself was. “You’ve done nothing wrong, lass. We’re hardy people. A damaged wall and some bed rest is a small price to pay for our lives. I mean, did you see how many there were? By all rights, we were condemned to death without your help.” His words did little to help. She raised her bucket up and took a great swig from it. Although most of the water ended up covering her coat, it was cold and refreshing. In that moment, it was the greatest thing she’d ever tasted, wines and ciders be damned. She could clearly see that she was going to get nowhere with the old guy, so she turned her attention to Harold.

  “How you holding up?” She didn’t need to ask the question to know, but she did anyway. His left arm had been wrapped in a makeshift sling – it looked more like someone had repurposed his quiver rather than anything strictly medical, though. Still, he smiled. At her in response. If that was his quiver, however, then what was that extra belt he was wearing?

  “Aw, me? I’ll be fine. They didn’t get my good arm, so. I’ll figure something out. Heh, you were awe-inspiring. Who taught you to fight like that? Taking on all of them by yourself? Seriously?” His eyes had an admiring glimmer within them, a single spark that could easily grow into a raging wildfire.

  “It was...” A good question, actually. Most of her training had been duel training. One on one situations. Fighting a fairly well-organised group was not part of her curriculum. Still, she had a big sword. It didn’t take much to figure out how to use it, she figured. “My father taught me. Everything I know. He’s even stronger than I am.” Hal whistled, evidently trying to comprehend how strong Bjorn was. Frankly, Atalanta wasn’t even sure what the old bear’s maximum strength was. He could’ve held the whole village by himself, she was confident. The whole village...

  Her face scrunched up into a frown, her gaze lingering on the bucket of water that sat on her lap, though in reality, she was looking past it, losing herself to her thoughts. Perhaps he couldn’t hold an entire village by himself. Or was it more likely that there were people out there even stronger than Bjorn was? That was a terrifying thought, yet exciting at the same time. It gave her a target to reach for. The bearer of the wolf-knight's shield... was he perhaps given the same quest she had been given? Was he the reason she’d been taken from Wulventraum? Surely, if Bjorn had been strong enough to defeat them, then she wouldn’t have this quest at all. She sighed, focusing on her reflection. It was no use getting lost in her own thoughts.

  Then she saw them. Jutting out from her hair, sharp, tall. Stark. A cerulean blue amidst a sea of scarlet. They looked just like her dream knight’s... Surely, she was just imagining them. She reached a hand up, and her eyes widened. Atop her head, plain for the whole world to see, a pair of animal ears. No, wolf ears. A lingering mark of her transformation. They twitched, standing to attention, almost as if being awoken by her realising that they were even there. They were so strange. Alien. She pinched one. Definitely real. Sensitive, too. At least she wouldn’t need a hat for the coming winter. Gods, wearing a helmet if she needed to would be a real pain going forward, wouldn't’ it? She glanced up from her bucket, quickly realising that she had – in fact – gotten lost in her own thoughts. She gave the pair a weak smile and sat up straight, dedicating her attention to them. She could get to the bottom of this mystery later. For now...

  “Where’s my travelling companion? And my blade’s scabbard. Did the bandits take it when they left?” Her question seemed to spark something in Harold. A memory, or a ask that he’d forgotten to do.

  “Just a moment-” He nodded and stood up before dashing away into the village. Which left the war chief. Chief. The other important guy.

  “Your travelling companion... You mean the trader, Bradley, don’t you? Fret not. He’s still here. He seemed eager to leave, but I don’t think anyone would have let him leave without you.”

  “I didn’t see him in the fight...” The older warrior shook his had with a sigh.

  “This isn’t his home. What you did was a rare thing. Most anyone else would have fled, or hidden away, just as he had. Try not to hold it against him. A common trader and cattleherd... I am doubtful he would have been much use in the fight anyway. Most of us weren’t much use, truth be told. Hah, you’ll see next time you visit, I’ll have these lads whipped into shape. Nobody will get the best of us again, not now that they have tasted the sweet wine of victory and the bitterness of defeat in equal measure.” The warrior laughed. She couldn’t help but smile – his enthusiasm was surely infectious, wherever he got it from. She trusted him to his word, too. The villagers had all been more than happy to follow him, even if they were ill equipped to head into battle.

  “Sorry about that!” Hal soon reappeared, undercutting the elder warrior’s laughter with his frenzied footsteps. His right arm cradled something. No, she knew exactly what it was. The wide assortment of jewels, the soft leather, the absolute size of it. The way the sun caught it just right. Balmung’s scabbard – and next to it, within his grip, was her bow. It looked freshly waxed. “Sorry, I’d been keeping hold of these two whilst you were asleep. I couldn’t shoot, or use them for anything, obviously, but. I wanted to keep them safe. You’d kept us safe. It’s not much of a reward. It’s just your stuff back. But... please take them, and... maybe take me-”

  “No.” She gladly took her scabbard and bow back, fitting Balmung snugly within its home. That felt better. Right. However, she flatly rejected his request, shaking her head. Ugh, she could just about feel her new ears tugging at her as she did so. They’d take so much getting used to.

  “Huh? But why not? You know how well I can fight-”

  “Can you? You can’t draw your bow. You’re dead weight.”

  “I’ll get better! The healer says that by the time spring comes, I’ll be back to full strength.” He puffed out his chest as if to seem bigger. It didn’t work. She saw right through his facade, sighing.

  “Do you think I have until spring to wait? Or do you think that sitting in the back of a cart for days on end will be good for your recovery? When you are better, and you want to adventure? Head for Schaffgart. I’ll be happy to show you what I know, there. As it is, it’s too dangerous. I’d be hunting for three, rather than two.” She put her bucket on the ground and began to stand, her back groaning and clicking as she stretched herself out. That was better.

  “The lass is right, lad. You don’t know the half of the dangers of the road. Look, if you want to adventure, I’ll help you. Train you up good. You’ve a keen eye. If nothing else, you’re the perfect village watchman. You still have that fire in you when you’re mended, then nothing’s stopping you from leaving.”

  Harold paused, pouting for just a moment. Then he relented, sighing and giving a shallow nod, evidently having seen the reason in the words of them both.

  “Right. Schaffgart. That’s, uh... Yeah. I’ll remember that. You’d best be there next summer. The moment this sling is off, so am I.”

  “Heh, I look forward to it. Take care, Hal. I’ll see you then. And. Both of you? Thank you. That water was amazing. Now, one last thing. Where can I get some sausages around here?”