Clara’s laughter faded, realizing she was the only one finding the words funny. “You’re telling me there are werewolves in this forest...”
“Not always.” In the light of the fire, Hank’s eyes appeared sunken, black rings circling them. “That’s the secret.” He placed one finger against his lips over top a sinister smile. “The beasts we are speaking of can take human form for the most part. But here, in the moon light, on these lands, they are forced to show their true nature.”
“Huh?” Clara’s nose scrunched up. None of this made sense.
“They are forced to shift,” Beth announced. “It’s true. We’ve all seen it. It’s not a sight one easily forgets. It’s quite disgusting, actually...bones breaking and morphing. Anytime a new person comes to town or passes through, we have them come here. That’s how we know if they are dangerous or not.”
“Dangerous, really?” Clara asked, her mind racing. “If you are trying to frighten me...”
“We have to keep the town safe.” Hank’s voice was clear and stern—his previous smile all but a memory. “Once we know there is a threat, we can deal with it properly.” He waved a gun around.
Clara gulped back the lump forming in her throat. “You kill people?”
“They aren’t people,” Hank yelled. “We are talking about filthy beasts that attack humans.”
“Werewolves...”
“Not just wolves,” Beth interrupted. “They come in all animal forms... tigers... bears... foxes... panthers.”
“The ice cream,” Clara mumbled.
“You caught that,” Hank snickered. “There’s a flavour for every type of shifter we have bagged. It’s a private joke around here.”
“Killing isn’t a joke,” Clara shrieked. “It’s a crime. I’m done. I want to go home... now.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Hank said. “You’ll stay here until we know you are human. It’s just a few more hours.”
“Don’t be upset. We check everyone who comes to town,” Beth added. “I’m sure you’ll pass.”
“I doubt you check everyone,” Clara huffed, folding her arms. “My parents aren’t here and they are new.”
“They will be,” Beth replied. “Deb plays the frantic girl well.” She glanced at her watch. “About now she’ll be spewing off a story about you taking off to spend the night with Hank in the forest. They should come looking for you anytime.”
The wind, an animal, a beast: howling sounded all the same. The only things for certain were it was close and loud. There might have been one or twenty, it was hard to tell. When one wolf cried out others joined in—that was the way of the pack—no invitations were needed. A clicking noise cut through nature’s serenade. The gun was ready, poised to take action.
“Looks like we have some unexpected company. Stay here.” Hank shot a glare in Clara’s direction. “Seems there are some uninvited guests to deal with. We’ll be back to check on you and your family after dealing with them.”
“Stay inside the tent,” Beth added, playing follow the leader. “Don’t worry, whoever it is, they won’t make it this far.”
The tent. It seemed a poor choice for protection. Any animal with claws could rip straight through the material. Still, it was the only shelter available. Clara scurried inside, holding her head. A dull ache was on the verge of throbbing. This was going to be a long night.
Chapter 18
It wasn’t only a watched pot that didn’t boil—time past slowly whenever waiting for something to happen. Anything was better than nothing, unless it involved a headache. Clara’s was pounding worse than she’d ever felt before. Oddly enough the woods were silent. The quieter it became, the worse she felt. Something bad was going to happen and Mr. Fluffunny wasn’t there to save her this time.
The monotony became too much to handle. The usefulness of the tent had run its course. Staying inside the material walls was suffocating her. She needed fresh air. She needed freedom.
It was summer, but the breeze brought with it memories of autumn passed, surfacing other visions with it. She’d been there before, now she knew where there was. The memories were no longer as foggy as the air around her. What were once flashes passing before her eyes connected. Her mind began piecing together the small details of her previous experiences, even if they originated in dreams.
Labouring breath and a fast heartbeat mingled with the sound of her own pounding feet. As twice before, there was no stopping—this time, however, she was in control. Tree branches whipped at the skin on her face and arms, leaving unavoidable scratches and cuts. Her mind raced.
Clouds parted, making way for familiar rose-coloured celestial rays, a full moon making its presence known. Tall shadows formed to the left. Her body responded veering right, legs picking up a tempo she’d never reached before. The pounding in her temple persisted. One hand reached up, returning cut for its trouble. There was something sharp on the top of her head—more ridged than broken glass. There was no time to dwell on it, though.
Her eyes enlarged. She wasn’t alone. A howl, a growl, she wasn’t sure which, stopped her in her tracks. Glowing, owl-like eyes watched her from a distance. A crack—a snap—her ears twitched. Something else was closing in. Scents in the air muddled: fear, pride, sport, survival. A gun fired. Her body moved without thought. She glanced down at her hands stained red with blood. It was hers, but it wasn’t a bullet that caused it.
Clara’s instincts took over, her body moving toward whatever creature was all but hidden. She side-eyed the beast, passing on the left. Wendigo. With the head of a stag and body of a man there was little else it could be. It was larger than she expected. One glowing eye followed her as she ran by. It remained, stopping all who tried to follow.
Gunshots. Blood-curdling screams. It all happened quickly. Too much stimulation kept her in the dark. Clara kept running until her feet could move no more. Her eyes closed. Was this the end?
Chapter 19
Clara’s eyelids fluttered, opening
