He regains his balance and thrusts with his spear at the wolf that bit him, driving it back. His swings become ever increasingly slower and less powerful. Never having been what one would call athletic, his arms quickly lose the endurance to continue wielding the heavy spear.
A large wolf leaps for his throat and James brings the spear around just in time, piercing the wolf’s chest. Though dead, the wolf’s momentum carries it forward and slams square into James, knocking him backward into the water. The wolf’s dead weight settles upon him and nearly prevents him from raising his head above the water.
In panicked desperation, he struggles to remove the wolf but it’s far too heavy for him to move in his weakened state. Three more wolves enter the water and move in to finish it. Barely able to keep his head above water, James struggles to remove his spear from the dead wolf. As the spear comes free, a growl draws his attention to a wolf less than a foot away. Even as he swings the spear point toward the wolf, he knows it will be too late. The wolf leaps…
Thwock!
An arrow takes the wolf in the side. Mortally wounded, the beast thrashes in the water.
Looking over his shoulder, James stares across the stream in disbelief to where a man stands with bow in hand. Another arrow grazes the side of a second wolf that had been coming in for the attack.
“Come on. Move! Stay there and you’re going to die.”
With the prospect of surviving this ordeal once again a reality, renewed strength fills his limbs. Taking hold of the wolf pressing him into the water, he gives out with a mighty groan and the carcass comes free. As the dead animal sinks beneath the surface, James uses the spear to aid in gaining his feet.
A wolf’s painful cry heralds another arrow having found its mark as he wades though the water toward the far side. His wounded leg only makes traversing the slippery, rock-filled bed more difficult. Though progress was slow, James reaches the shallows just as his leg gives out altogether.
Letting fly another arrow, the man puts an arm under James’ shoulder and helps walk him from the river.
James gives his benefactor a weak “Thanks” before collapsing into unconsciousness.
Chapter Three
Disoriented upon awakening, his first thought is that he’s laying abed back in his room after coming out of a particularly vivid dream. Unfortunately, reality sets in and memory returns; and so too does the pain. It wasn’t a dream.
The room bears little resemblance to the one in which he spent the majority of his time the last few years. The walls were fashioned of lengths of timber set horizontally such as one might find in a log cabin. There is very little in the way of furnishings, merely the bed, a night stand and a chest with clothes folded neatly across the top. His spear and backpack rest in the corner next to the chest with his clothes. Clothes?
Lifting the covers, he discovers that he’s naked as the day he was born; the only exception being the bandage covering the wound on his leg where the wolf had bit him. Not sure how he came to be in this place, he does vaguely remember someone at the edge of the stream helping to fight off the wolves.
Daylight filters in through a small window in the far wall. The soft pink tinge in the sky beyond indicates that sundown must be approaching. Or could it be dawn? Beyond the window comes the sound of wood being split with an axe. A slightly off-key whistling tune accompanies the chopping.
Lying quietly, he listens to the whack, whack, whack. When the chopping stops, footsteps are heard making their way around the cabin. From the other side of his bedroom door comes the squeal of hinges in need of oiling, followed by the thudding of wood being dumped into what James envisions to be a wood-box.
After an anxious moment of silence during which James strains to hear what is going on out there, nervousness fills him when footsteps start coming toward the door to his room. He listens with growing trepidation as they draw closer.
Will he be friend or foe? Praying for the one who approaches to be counted among the former but fearing he may be of the latter, James glances toward the spear leaning against the wall. For a split-second, he contemplates going for it, but then the footsteps stop just outside the door and know2 the opportunity has past. He watches with apprehension as the door handle turns.
In walks the man who had been at the river. Seeing James awake, he pauses just within the door and gives him a disarming smile.
“Finally awake, I see. You slept all night and through most of this day. I bet you’re hungry. Yes?”
He’s in his mid forties, about six feet tall with brown hair, and quite muscular. Nothing fat about him, he’s in very good shape. Dressed in woodsman’s attire, he has a clean if not stylish appearance. Earlier apprehension is soon alleviated by the man’s friendly demeanor.
A loud rumbling from his belly answers the question. James gives him a nod. After a moment of silence, he asks, “Where am I? And who do I have to thank for my life?”
“As to where you are, you are here, in my cabin. My name is Ceryn and I am the Forest Warden in these parts. It was lucky I came along when I did. That wolf pack would have had you for dinner for sure.”
“Ceryn?” James says, hoping to have pronounced the name correctly. “My name’s James. I appreciate you saving me.”
Ceryn’s grin widens. “Glad I was there to help. You can rest for a little while longer. Supper’s cooking and will be a few more minutes before it’s ready.” He gestured toward the clothes upon the chest. “I cleaned them a bit, washed out the worst of it. If you have the strength and wish to get dressed, you can join me in the other room. If not, I’ll bring a bowl in here.” He waits for James’ reaction. When none is forthcoming, he mumbles, “Strangest clothes I’ve ever seen,” then turns about and without another word closes the door as he leaves the room. Soon, the sounds of what James’ grandfather always called puttering could be heard coming from the outer room.
Not really having the energy or drive to leave the comfort of the bed, but not wanting to eat dinner lying naked beneath the covers either, James gingerly sits up and swings his legs over the edge. The movement causes the throbbing in his leg to increase. He remains sitting for a few moments to gather his courage before braving the pain and stand.
It’s not going to hurt that bad.
Coming to his feet proved how wrong he was. The pain was the worst he’d ever felt in his life. It took every ounce of fortitude and willpower he possessed to cross the ten feet to where his clothes lay. As soon as he comes within reach of his spear, he takes it and uses it for support. Doing so did much to relieve his discomfort.
He finds that his clothes have indeed been cleaned, and dresses.
Once clothed, he carries his backpack over to the bed and sitting once more, takes inventory of what remains of his meager possessions. Everything is there except the book explaining the workings of magic. He does a visual search of the area where his backpack had sat, but fails to find it. It occurs to him that he could possibly have lost it during his flight from, and subsequent fight with, the wolves. But that doesn’t seem likely as the backpack had been closed tightly throughout the ordeal and still remains so. Could Ceryn have taken it? James didn’t want to believe that of his benefactor, but what did he really know about the man?
Deciding to take things one step at a time, he returns his pack to the corner. Hobbling across the room with the aid of his spear, he opens the door and peers through to the outer room.
Beyond he finds a room three times the size of the one in which he awoke. In the center sits a wooden table with three chairs. One wall holds several shelves containing plates and other cooking equipment. Set against another section of wall is a simple wooden desk atop which papers lay in haphazard fashion. An inkwell sits near the stack of papers with a quill lying beside it.
The bow that saved his life hangs near the desk along with a quiver of arrows. On the side of the bow opposite the quiver lies a scabbarded sword and shield, both of which have the look of having been well used.
Attention drawn to the opening of the door, Ceryn spies him and gives a nod as the Warden continues slicing vegetables for a big stewpot. Indicating the table with a jerk of his head, he says, “Have a seat. This will need to cook a little longer.”
Hobbling to the table, James looks longingly toward the stewpot simmering upon a hook over a gently burning
