Red, The Wolf

Part 7: The Caravan

Birds twittered overhead. Sunlight streamed in patches through the foliage. Red detected a subtle swaying movement that gently rocked her awake.

Then there was the smell.

A huffing breath accompanied by the foulest reek imaginable brought Red fully awake. The white wolf crouched in front of her, his snout barely an inch from her nose. He flicked out his tongue to lick his own face, and bopped her own nose in the process.

Red reeled back with a savage snarl, but the playful wolf just ambled to its feet.

"Ho!" called a voice, and the rocking came to a shuddering stop.

Red glanced over her shoulder at the man sitting in front, twisting around to look at them. Still a wolf, her thoughts confirmed.

Justin squinted hard against the bright sunlight reflecting off the wagon's canvas. "Everything all right in there? Rascal, don't bother Beauty till those wounds heal! We'll be stopping off soon."

Red glared at Rascal--but the white wolf didn't seem to get the message. He waited until she stopped growling, and then, as she turned her attention to exploring the rest of the wagon, she felt his presence too close. Red looked back to see him in the act of inching his nose closer to the bandage on her side! She let him have it with a bare-toothed roar, lunging at him. The younger wolf skittered back toward the rear of the wagon, but Red wanted him out.

"Rascal!" Justin shouted from the front seat of the wagon. "Get up here!"

Rascal whimpered a bit but scooted carefully past the irate Red to sit by his master's side. Red had the whole wagon bed to herself--and nothing else to do. She wouldn't dare leap out of a moving wagon in her state. The wounds of her wolf form were only compounded by the fact that her human form was also wounded--and the latter would never heal completely until she could shift again. The idea of having to spend the indefinite future as a permanently-maimed wolf sent a shudder through her body--which only aggravated the wounds. She slumped on the pile of tarp shreds with a groan.

"Don't worry, Beauty," Justin called over his shoulder. "I've got friends not far from here--they'll get you fixed up in a jiffy!"

Red rolled her eyes and buried her nose against her chest. She closed her eyes and tried to think of Queston:

The chilly spring mornings were always her favorite. She loved to creep out into the small yard behind the Garritys' cottage, and let the dew cling to her wolf's pelt. Deborah would treat her the same whether she was wolf or girl--always a smile, a tender hand stroking the top of her head--and absolutely no nonsense when it came to pilfering her baked goods while they cooled. Red hadn't known another place that felt so much like a home to her--the Garrity cottage was the center of her world, and everywhere outside was a dark and empty void....

The thrill of her first chase, when a pair of thugs decided to raid the local trading post, where collections of goods and harvests were stored and dispensed according to Queston's unique bartering system. Wendy had witnessed the pair of them come in, trash the place, and haul off far more goods than they actually needed. Red picked up their scent and tracked the men down, to a haphazard camp further up in the mountains. In wolf form, she had ruthlessly attacked the men, defending herself against their weapons while dealing just punishment for their criminal behavior. She chased them off, wounded and terrified, and when they were far enough away, she had gone back to the camp, shifted into a human, and carefully packed up all the stolen goods to return to the post. The look of delight and awe on Wendy's face when she discovered the recovered items in front of the doorway the next morning made the previous night's battle all the more worthwhile...