A Wolfsjäger Original Character Story
The snow fell heavily over the Rocky Mountains that night in early January, 1972. In Butte, Montana, people were either tucked into their homes with hot food, or in the local bar for a strong drink. All were trying to get away from the cold, and the dark, and what dwells within it as a snowstorm blew into town. The wind howled outside, like a wounded beast. Children clung to their parents’ sides, and old men’s hands strayed to hunting rifles with suspicion.
Someone walking alone through the snow, if they had sharp eyes, could swear they saw a glowing eye peering at them through the darkness. But that had to have been a trick of the light… right?
In one remote bar, near the edge of downtown, a pair of figures made their way down the sidewalk. A person wrapped in a thick coat, and what looked a very large dog, when they reached the door, the dog laid down under the awning and waited, and the stranger walked through the door. Once inside, several of the patrons as well as the barkeep glanced up to see who came in from the snow.
The stranger removed their wide-brimmed hat, revealing a young woman, just a teenager, really, with straw-colored hair twisted in twin braids. She pulled down her scarf from her face, revealing bright green eyes and a deep scar on her cheek. And slung across her back was a well worn Model 700 Remington bolt-action rifle.
“Uh, is there anything I can help you with, little miss?” the bartender asked the girl as she brushed a thick coating of snow from her coat and hat.
The girl looked at him, her eyes strangely… haunted for someone her age. She walked over to the bar, her boots lightly thumping on the hard-wood floor. “‘M looking for Mr. Hanson. ‘Was told to meet him here,” she mumbled in a soft voice.
The barkeep looked the girl up and down. He couldn’t help wondering what this sprig of a kid- who looked like she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks- could want with the biggest businessmen in the county, and we’re currently in a meeting in the bar’s event room?
One of the regulars, an old man who worked farther in the mountains, looked at the girl through the haze of cigarette smoke that filled the bar. He squinted before the light of recognition flickered behind his smudged glasses. “Hey, aren’t you that crazy girl? The one everyone says hunts wolves?”
This caused a murmur to run through the bar.
“There ain’t no more wolves up here anymore, not since my grandpa was alive.”
“Darrel, you’ve been hitting old man Lenny’s homemade brew again?”
“Well, if you listen to the rumors up the hills-”
The girl just ignored the other patrons’ chatter and looked up at the bartender again. “Where would I find Mr. Hanson?”
The bartender sighed and looked over at the lone waitress who was filing her nails. “Shelly, can you take this young lady to the back, please? And give her whatever she wants to eat, it’ll be on me.”
The waitress sighed and tucked the file back into her purse. “Yeah, sure, Chuck.”
Shelly grabbed her tray and motioned for the girl to follow her into the back room.
The girl followed behind Sherry like a ghost down the hallway, shuffling along behind her as little flecks of snow fell from her jeans and boots, leaving little puddles on the ground. The hallway was quiet, the two not bothering to make any small talk. The girl kept her eyes ahead, locked on the door they were walking towards. As they approached the door, Shelly adjusted her shirt and fluffed her curly black hair, looking at her reflection in a decorative mirror.
The girl watched with mild fascination, and once the waitress’s appearance was to her liking she opened the door.
Inside, there were four men, men who had hands in the county’s largest cattle ranches, oil fields, timber operations, and mines, awaited in the room at a table with glasses of beer, faces grim as they puffed on big cigars, and looking over manilla folders of something that warranted the men slamming the folder closed.
Shelly gave the men a sweet smile, motioning for the girl to come into the room. “Mr. Hanson, Mr. Fant, Mr. Andrews, Mr. Bell, your… guest is here.”
“Ah, good,” the one who was probably Mr. Hanson gave a strained smile. “Thank you, Shelly, and we’ll have another round.”
The girl, holding her hat in one hand, and gripping the strap of her rifle with the other slipped past Shelly as the waitress scribbled on her notepad.
“Hey, Kid,” Shelly poked the kid’s shoulder with a powder-pink nail. “Hank wanted me to feed you, so what do ya’ want?”
The girl looked at Shelly for a long moment, her green lingering on her face before answering. “A cheeseburger, with fries. And a big Coke, please.”
Shelly blinked, as if expecting something else, then scribbled it down. “I’ll have that ready for you in a bit, let me bring these guys their beers and I’ll bring you that Coke.” And with that she made her way to the door, adding a little extra sashay to her hips before the door closed sharply behind her.
Once their audience was gone, the five people left in the room all stared at each other, unsure who would break the tension first.
“Well,” Mr. Bell, the owner of oil drilling operations, was the first to speak, taking a deep drag of his cigar. “The old Indian said you were young, but I wasn’t expecting a goddamn kid-”
“Quiet, Don,” Mr. Hanson snapped softly, before looking at the girl. “Miss Emmeline Thorn, I presume?”
The girl, Emmeline, nodded at Mr. Handson. “That’s the rumor… what do you all want?”
Mr. Bell looked her up and down with an unimpressed expression, only to be met with the girl’s cold gaze. The land man cleared his throat and opened the folder, pulling out pictures. “These were taken five days ago. For the past three weeks we’ve been dealing with attacks on mining camps and oil operations owned by Mr. Hanson or myself. Several of our employees are in the hospital or… worse.” The pictures were a sight, overturned trucks of mining equipment, the ground smattered with blood, and the miners, oil-men, and lumber jacks were either torn to pieces, or evidence of their bodies having been dragged away.
“Mr. Fant’s ranches have fared no better,” Bell continued, showing different pictures, “With many of his animals, and a fair number of his hands being attacked as well.” He then showed her the pictures of cattle and horses, eviscerated and vivisected. The people in these pictures were alive, at least, but horribly wounded, with deep gashes, gouges, missing fingers, eyes, one man was missing his nose.
Emmeline reached into the pile of pictures and picked up one that caught her eye. It looked as though the claws of a large animal had torn through the side of a truck. She looked up at the gathered men and arched a brow. “Goodness… looks you’ve had a hell of a bear problem.”
“A bear problem?!” Mr. Andrews bellowed, bolting to his feet so fast it caused his chair to fall backwards and the table to tip forwards and several of the pictures to scatter over the floor. “We’re losing hundreds in damaged equipment, dead livestock, not to mention what we would have to cover with the injured employees, and you call this a fucking ‘bear problem’?!”
The girl looked up at Andrews, unmoved by the man’s outburst with the nonchalance of someone who had heard it all before. “‘Could only be a bear, that would be a reasonable answer,” Her eyes scanned the men’s faces, looking for any crack, any doubt. “‘Less you think it’s something else… something you think warrants calling down the ‘crazy wolf girl’?”
Mr. Andrews had the decency to look sheepish about his outburst.
“If you wanna waste my time, go talk to the sheriff about your bear and leave me be-”
“Please,” Mr. Andrews pleaded, extending a hand to the girl, as she had begun to turn towards the door. “Please, we know that this isn’t a bear… and we called you for a reason.” He reached into his vest and pulled out another envelope, opening it with shaking fingers and revealed a shaking image, taken as though either the target, or the photographer had been running away when the picture was taken.
The creature in this picture was… frightening, to say the least. It was something large, and roughly wolf shaped, but with scruffy hair, a long, pointed snout, and tusk-like teeth protruding from its grinning mouth.
Emmeline took the picture from his hand and set her hat down onto another table. She examined the picture, holding photographic paper so close to her face her nose was almost touching it.
“This isn’t a bear, and we know that. It’s not precisely a wolf… but goddamn it if it isn’t a monster, a monster I hear, you know how to deal with. Please, Miss Thorn, you’re the only one we can turn to for help.”
After a moment, Emmeline lifted her head and looked at Hanson. “I see… looks like you need my help after all.”
She set the photograph back down on the table, letting the other four men get a good look at the frightening image, making them cringe in horror.
“Sorry for the attitude, gentlemen. ‘Had to make sure what you were dealing with was serious… and that you were willing to admit what you’re dealing with.”
She leaned against the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “I know what these things are, and I’ve dealt with them before. I will deal with them, but I won’t do it for nothing.”
Mr. Fant’s eyes narrowed, but Mr. Hanson nodded.
“Name your price,” Hanson said, like he was striking a deal with a business partner.
Emmeline looked at the men with a serious expression. “I don’t ask for much, but there are some essentials I’ll need. Food for a few days, rope, some basic camping gear, ammunition,” She motioned to her rifle.
“Yes, of course,” Andrews said quickly, hoping to make up for his outburst. “We can have those to you within the next few days, thank you so much for your cooperation-”
The girl lifted a finger, stopping him mid-platitude. “Hold on, I’m not done yet. I need two more things.”
The four men stared at her, and she stared back, her big eyes more like a predator than a little girl.
“I need two-hundred-and-fifty dollars, and five ounces of silver.”
Andrew blanched. “Two-hundred and fifty… and five ounces of silver?”
“This is outrageous!” Fant exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table. “I’ve heard what you did for that ranch in the Bitterroots, and that old man on Beartooth, you didn’t ask a damn thing from them! Why are you charging us a damn arm and a leg?”
Emmeline’s flat expression turned angry as she glared at the cattle baron, leaning forward so that the two of them were eye-to-eye. “Because they don’t have what you have. They’re just people who are trying to survive up in those mountains with what little they got. So when I cleared out those wolves and they offered something in exchange, I would accept a hot meal and a safe place to sleep. Why should I not take advantage of what you all have for my benefit? You do the same to everyone else around here.”
Before more could be said, the door opened and Shelly came in. “Hey, I got your drinks everyone-”
She stopped short when she noticed the tension in the air, quickly setting about busying herself. She gave the men their beers, and handed Emmeline a glass bottle of Coke.
“Your food will be done in a minute, it’ll be out in the bar,” the waitress said softly, looking between the girl and the men at the table.
“Thanks,” Emmeline said softly, a small smile curving the corner of her lips.
The waitress gave the girl a nod and walked into the hall, giving the room one last hard look before closing the door behind her.
The five people in the room find themselves back to the very beginning as they once more slowly look back at each other, eyes moving back and forth between each other, watching, waiting for whoever breaks first.
Surprisingly, it was Andrews who spoke first. “When do you need your supplies?”
The girl didn’t answer right away, and instead took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the flavor and the bubbles dancing on her tongue before speaking. “Tomorrow, by eleven o’clock. Meet me on the trailhead into Homestake Pass. If you’re late, I walk, and you’ll have to get someone else to come and clean up after you.”
Before they could respond or protest, Emmeline turned on her heel, picked up her hat, and walked out the door.
On the other side she could hear them arguing in hushed tones, but she didn’t care. She’ll either get what she wants from them or she won’t. Right now, what she wants is her damn cheeseburger.
She walks into the main room of the bar, finding it has cleared out. The patrons who were there when Emmeline arrived were all gone, even Shelly had left. The only ones she could see were the bartender, who Emmeline assumed was the man Shelly called Hank, and what looked like a short-order cook in the kitchen. The only sounds that could be heard were the clinking of glasses being put away behind the bar, the scraping of the stovetop being cleaned, the crackle of the fireplace, and the radio playing ‘American Pie’.
Hank looked up and smiled softly at the girl. “Hey kid, your food is done.”
Emmeline nodded, rubbing her arm shyly. “Um, thanks. Can… Can I bring my dog in? I left him outside when I got here, but since it’s empty now...”
Hank blinked in surprise, but nodded. “Yeah, sure kiddo! You bring in your dog and warm him up.”
Emmeline smiled a little, taking a gulp from her Coke bottle, and walked over to the door, opening it. Next to the door was a little lump under the snow, slowly rising up and down as it breathed.
Emmeline clicked her tongue and the lump moved, and the dog’s head popped up. She clicked her tongue again and the dog stood, shaking the snow off his body.
“Lightning, come on in, buddy.”
With a wag of his tail the dog trotted into the bar, and the sight of him gave Hank quite the shock.
He was massive, his shoulder coming up to Emmeline’s hip, and his coat a mix of white with tawny-gold, with bright golden eyes. Hank could see saddlebags of some kind strapped to his torso, probably carrying some sort of supplies. The big dog huffed and trotted over to the fireplace and settled on the rug in front of it with a happy groan.
The girl chuckled and slid onto a bar stool with a sigh of her own, mumbling about being happy to get off her feet for a while. She set her hat on the counter as Hank placed a basket of fresh, hot fries and a cheeseburger in front of her. She could see crisp lettuce, a thick slice of tomato, even some bacon. She grinned and picked up the burger, digging in.
Hank smiled as he watched her eat. He had heard a lot about the girl who lived in the mountains, supposedly hunting wolves. A part of him wondered though; did she truly hunted wolves. Wolves haven’t been seen in Montana since the thirties. Whatever it was that she did, people praised her for it, so he was happy to give her something to eat.
Hank watched Emmeline eat, occasionally tossing a few fries to the dog. She looked like a normal teenager, stopping to get a bite to eat, not the ‘Mountain Wolf Girl’ people whispered about when they saw her come into town. Shouldn't she be in high school, worrying about math tests, going to the movie theater with a group of girl friends, and writing in a diary about some celebrity or school crush?
Instead, she was in the mountains doing God-knows-what, going God-knows-where, and apparently, making deals with God-knows-who.
“Is it alright if I ask what you all were talking about back there?” Hank didn’t know why he asked that question, but he felt the need to know, to make sure she wasn’t being taken advantage of.
Emmeline swallowed the bite of burger she had in her mouth and swallowed before looking up at Hank. The happy teenager was gone, instead he saw the same eyes as the war vets that came in. That haunted gaze that has seen things no ordinary mortal looks upon and lives to tell the tale.
“They need my help with something,” she said in a low voice. “But don’t worry too much about it. Just… don’t go out alone after dark for a while, please?”
Hank understood something in that moment, something that broke his heart, this kid had gone through something, was going through something he doubted he could provide much aid for. But right now, at least he could give this kid a hot meal and a safe place to rest. He looked over at the kitchen window, where the cook, Dan, was listening. Hank gave him a little nod, they would talk more when they got back to their apartment.
“Yeah, sure thing, kid. Thanks for the heads up.”
Emmeline nodded and went back to her burger. She knows that others like her didn’t like telling people about what’s going on, but Hank was nice, he had bacon the cook put on her cheeseburger. She could at least warn him about the danger, she didn’t want anything to happen to him, or the cook.
Just as she finished her food, the door to the back room opened, the sound of hushed voices filtering through the hall as they approached the main bar.
Lightning, seeming to sense the changing tension, stood from where he had been dozing in front of the fire and quickly walked over to his girl’s side, sitting next to her and staring at the hallway with his intense yellow eyes.
The men walked into the room, their faces serious, pointedly avoiding Emmeline’s gaze. They paid their tab with Hank, talking amiably with him as Mr. Hanson wrote out a check.
In his attempt to not look at Emmeline, Mr Bell was trying to look in any other direction. Looking at the mounted deer and elk heads on the wall, neon lights, bottles lining the wall. His eyes swept the floor, going past Emmeline purposefully, before suddenly snapping back to Lightning, his face flushing what looked like… anger? Mr Bell stared at the dog, Lightning stared back in that way dogs stare at things.
Emmeline arched a brow, looking at Bell with hard eyes, waiting for him to speak.
After what felt like an eternity, Bell spoke, face red, eyes never leaving Lighting.
