The Start.
It was an early spring morning that fateful day.
I was off tending to the chicken coop while my brother collected sticks for breakfast’s fire. We were trying to be nice for our Pa; he had had a stressful week at the market, many of the townsfolk are too poor that time of year to afford poultry products. My brother and I had the smart idea of getting some chores of his done so he could have a more relaxed day at home for a change.
Our house was small, but it was our home, and we wouldn’t have had it any other way. It rather well suited the seven of us, Pa, Erik, myself, and our four chickens. We were outside the town’s crude wooden walls, but close enough that they were only an hours travel by foot. Seated only 5 minutes west of the road to town and right on the edge of a small forest. The sounds of a babbling brook close by often filled the air.
I was throwing some of the feed we had around for the chickens when I heard it. A yell? A cry? No, a scream. A sound only made in the darkest hours, a noise only capable of being made at death’s door. My stomach dropped, the bag of feed dropped, my pulse quickened, my legs started moving before I could comprehend what was happening. I ran to the noise and saw sticks scattered on the ground, blood droplets staining the green grass like a sick red dew in a wet morning, a wolf standing over my brother biting at his arm as Erik struggled to get free, his screams still filling my ears, my blood turned frozen at his cries of pain and fear.
Red. And then I saw red. My blood was superheated with rage, my eyes filled with tears of hatred, my hands shaking with a need. A need to get that wolf away from my brother!
My body was moving before I knew what was happening. I grabbed one of the many discarded sticks on the ground and sprinted at this feral beast. I put my head down and charged with brute force as I tackled the wolf off of my brother. I was quick, but it was quicker. Back on its feet by the time I regained my bearings. It snapped into a prowling walk, it was studying me, trying to find how it wanted to strike me, my weaknesses, the opportune time to attack me. And I knew it. I stood between the beast and my brother, his screams died down into sobs as he slowly tried to move back towards the house. I had no idea how badly he was hurt, but he was still alive, and that’s what mattered.
I kept backing up, trying to get Erik to safety and wake up Pa. The wolf fake lunged at me and I bought it for a whole gold coin. I swung full force where I thought it was going, but it was already back where it was by the time my swing hit the ground uselessly. The wolf used this to lunge at me and it tackled me to the ground. I managed to keep a hold of the stick and held it against the wolf’s chest to keep it from getting to my throat. But it was strong. I could feel the stick weakening against the persistence of the beast.
Its sickly hot breath against my face, its spit dripping on my neck and clothes, the claws pressed against my shoulder and chest. This was gonna be the last thing I experienced before I was brutally taken from my family. This is it, this is how I die, I thought, tears starting to well into my eyes. I tried pushing back as hard as I could, but there was nothing I could do to get this creature off of me. I cried out one last time when the sick noise of steel sinking into flesh filled the air. The wolf fell off of me, an axe lodged into its side. The next thing I knew, Pa lifted me up and held me in his arms.
And wrapping my arms around his neck, I cried.