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Travelers
Haven Outstretched
shadows from the surrounding trees were growing darker along the dusty road as the sun
began its slow decent behind the valley's hills. Soon night would fall, making the roadway
perilous to traverse. Avoiding the deep ruts carved into the earth by horse drawn wagons,
and seasonal rains would be practicably impossible. Stepping unexpectedly into an unseen
trench could possibly twist a person's ankle, or break ones' leg. So, Andrew decided he
had better set up camp, and settle in for the evening. Besides, he was getting tired, and
the pangs of hunger were becoming more noticeable. Tomorrow he would get a fresh start and
continue his journey in search for work as a farmhand, which was his chosen trade. Pacing his
steps slightly faster, Andrew was hoping to soon find a suitable clearing to set up camp.
His anticipation increased the further he went, because on either side of him an
envelopment of shrubs, and bramble, extended along the roadway, well beyond his range of
view, making it unfavorable to host an evening's retirement. Thoughts of camping in the
roadway atop the dusty hard pressed ground wasn't without consideration, but his
preference was to find a soft grassy clearance to spread his bedroll upon. So, steadily he
proceeded with hastened stride, continuously searching for an opening in the seemingly
endless array of thickets. Finally, up
ahead, the entanglement of undergrowth ended, and he saw a very welcoming sight. Beneath a
stand of maple trees was a small clearing covered with a thick carpet of moss. Without
delay, he made his way toward, and into the awaiting haven of the forest, stooping
occasionally to gather sticks for a fire. Up through
the valley a cool breeze slightly stirred the evening blaze, and overhead with soft
rustle, leaves shimmered in the amber glow. The chirping of nightly creatures filled the
air as the eyes of the forest looked upon the stranger in their midst, and in the distance
with faint echo came the haunting call of an owl. Millions of stars lit the cloudless sky
as the moon in full grandeur rose steadily above the hills' summit. Andrew knew the sights
and sounds of nature well, and they gave him a feeling of serenity. Stretching
out on the bedroll after a supper of beans, and crusty bread, his gaze fell upon the
arising moon. Reaching beside him, and fumbling inside the old worn knapsack, which
accompanied him on his journeys, he produced an apple from several he had gathered during
the day. While continuing his gaze toward the sky's glowing orb, he savored the sweet
tangy fruit. Few minutes
had passed, with finishing of the apple, when serenity ended by the sudden hush of chirps
in the surrounding. Only the hiss and crackle within the camper's flames broke the
silence. Startled,
Andrew sat up quickly. Instinctively, his hand grasped the revolver's grip lying holstered
beside him, and withdrew it as he peered passed the campfire into the darkness. Intensely
he listened for the slightest sound of movement beyond the outer edge of the glowing fire,
but he heard nothing. Hunkering low, he inched his way into the shadows, and waited as he
slipped the holster around his waist. Someone was
out there. A bandit perhaps had seen his fire from the road, and circled around through
the woods intent on robbing and killing him while he lay sleeping. Occurrences of such
treacherous deeds were often, and if that was the intent of the intruder, the sudden
forest hush had given them away. It clearly wasn't an animal on the prowl. The singing
creatures wouldn't have paid much heed to the familiar sound of a nocturnal hunter.
Whatever or whoever was out there, hiding amongst the trees, was unknown to this part of
the forest. Andrew lay
motionless for what seemed an eternity keenly listening for any indication of movement.
Then he heard it. The intruder had made the first mistake. A snapping twig had given the
scoundrel's hiding position away. The sound produced amid the silence reverberated through
the darkness like cannon fire. The culprit, if human, which was the most likely
assumption, would realize the mistake made, and lay low for a bit, waiting to see if
anyone stirred within the campfires light. Carefully,
Andrew eased the hammer back on the revolver while muffling the click with his hand. If it
were a bandit, he would meet his maker on this eve. "Murderers and cutthroats
deserved no less," he thought to himself. Andrews's
heart began to beat faster, and he could feel sweat forming in his palms. Pointing the
weapon in the direction of the snapping twig, with eyes squinted for added sharpness, he
made effort to discern any shadowy waver of movement within the faint light cast by the
moon, prepared to unleash a hail of bullets into any assailant that came forth. Another
snap, and a rustle of brush gave Andrew a breathless startle, and he peered hard in the
direction it came. Seconds passed. Then, he saw the outline of a figure in the night's dim
illumination dash behind a tree. "Yes,"
he said to himself. "It's a man." No sooner had the thought crossed his mind,
when again, the figure, crouching somewhat, dashed out carelessly thrashing through the
undergrowth, and made his way behind another tree. "The
fool," Andrew thought. "Doesn't he realize his bold carelessness is going to
prove to be his fatal undoing?" It had to be obvious to the intruder that his
intended victim was laying in wait for him. With that thought, Andrew shouted out,
"whoever you are, I know you're there, and I have you covered, come on in, or I'll
start shooting." The moment
intensified as Andrew waited for a response, by either an acknowledgement of shout or
blaring gunfire. Neither of the anticipated came. Only the unexpected gave reply to his
called warning. From within the coverage of the darkened woods came a secession of hideous
snarling growls unlike anything Andrew had ever heard before, and a chill of fear raced
through him. He had been
wrong. Out there, hiding among the trees, something was stalking him. Within the
boundaries of diminished light, it was watching. A creature that walked upright, with
appearances, human in form, is what he had seen, but he was positive it wasn't a bear. The
replying growls had convinced him of that. Andrew's
mind began whirling with thoughts on what to do. He knew that the revolver he carried
would afford little protection against a huge predator if it decided to charge into camp,
and attack him. Even while the shots were still ringing out from the revolvers barrel,
without flinching, the snarling beast would be on top of him, ripping at his flesh.
Needing, and not having a high velocity rifle to use in self-defense against whatever was
lurking within the outskirts of the camp, Andrew realized his perilous situation, and made
haste with the best course of action he could think of. Up he jumped, and headed for the
nearest tree. Following
suit with a harsh rustling of brush, and trodden sticks snapping, came the ferocious beast
from out of its hiding place snarling viciously in pursuit of Andrew as he darted toward a
low hanging branch. Grabbing it, he began pulling himself up into what he hoped would be a
safe retreat. Shudders of
fear coursed through his body as he glimpsed the wild beast leap across the campfire from
the corner of his eye. Straight for him it charged, ceaselessly snarling, and growling in
a rage of wild fury. "God
help me," Andrew screamed, as he tried to pull his heavy frame further up into the
branches of the tree, but it was too late. The snarling beast managed to grab his right
leg, and began ripping at his flesh with elongated claws that cut to the bone with each
slash. Adrenaline fed fear is the only thing that prevented Andrew from succumbing to a
loss of consciousnesses as the pain swept through him like searing fire. Relentlessly, the
beast continued to maul him. Then with raging savageness, the beast raised its horrible
head and glared menacingly into Andrews's eyes. Curling its lips in haunting similarity to
a sinister smile, it lunged its head forward and sank its protruding drool soaked fangs
into Andrew's leg. Screaming in
pain, Andrew managed to pull the revolver from its holster, and the shots rang out like
thunder. Blood spattered from between the horrible creatures eyes each time he pulled the
trigger, and finally, the beast recoiled momentarily from the onslaught, loosening its
torturous grip on Andrew's leg, enabling him to ascend further into the tree. The pain in
his mangled leg was excruciating, but that was the least of his worries. The hideous beast
hadn't been affected by the shots expelled from his revolver. In the glow
of the campfire, the creature's eyes glistened with wild madness while it paced back and
forth leering menacingly up into the tree. Salvia foamed around its mouth like a rabid dog
as it growled and curled its lips back, baring razor sharp fangs. Never, even in his most
frightening nightmares could Andrew have envisioned such a horror. This was not an animal,
nor a human. This was a demon from the pits of hell trouncing about beneath. In full
muscular stature, it stood approximately six feet tall, and was covered with long
bristling hair. For hours
the beast paced, and lurched upwards toward him, growling with drool spewing forth, and
fangs lashing as Andrew clung to the branches of the tree. Finally, the beast gave up its
relentless evil intent, but before it left, it glared sinisterly up into the tree at him,
and emitted a blood-curdling howl that made Andrew's hair stand up on the back of his
neck. Looking down at the creature, he could now distinguish each of the creatures
striking resemblances to a wolf. His blood ran cold, as he looked upon the monster and
recalled tales he had heard that even brought chilling shudders to the bravest of souls.
Here was a huge wolf-like monster, walking upright like a human with each of its
characteristic features fulfilling the descriptions remembered so well from stories
related, and he had been bitten by this devil. The realization of Andrews's thoughts
became a certainty as he lifted his eyes upward to gaze at the full moon. Reaching behind
him, Andrew withdrew a cartridge from his hostler, and placed it in his revolver.
Hopefully, his own hand would spare him from the hellish curse. Putting the
gun to his head, he knew what he had to do; but was it too late? Was he to suffer the same
curse that had befallen the beast that had attacked him? Would death now prevent a life of
eternal damnation? A shot rang out, and echoed through the valley. Branches gave way and
snapped from Andrews falling weight. With a heavy thud, he hit the ground, and lay still
beside the glowing fire. The sky was
filled with the brightness of the shining moon, and the nightly creatures began to chirp
in a rhythmic melody. From across the valley the haunting call of an owl could be heard,
and in the haven carpeted with moss, Andrew stirred, and emitted a low growl. True to legend, spoken only in whispers by gatherers around an evening hearth, beneath the moon that arises full at night, foreboding beasts roam the land, and whosoever survives the terrors' vicious bite, is doomed to bear the hideous curse that only the werewolf knows. © C.E. Vance
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