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“We lost another sheep last night,” Arada said. “And there was blood on the ground, this time. A lot of it.”
Standing on the other side of the large oak table, Arada looked so distraught that Mensah wanted to hug her. Luckily, Arada already had support: the moment she had stepped up, Pin-Lee had left their usual position by Mensah’s side, abandoning their note-keeping to be there for their wife. Mensah did not mind this in the least.
Even if Pin-Lee was the village scribe, there was no requirement for them to keep notes—just as there was no requirement for Mensah to invite villagers to visit her house at the beginning of each week to put forth their questions and concerns. They both did these tasks voluntarily because they wanted to support their community as best they could.
“That’s bad news, indeed,” Mensah said.
This was the third sheep to be taken within a month, and they didn’t have any to lose. Preservation was a village isolated by necessity, and it was a constant struggle for them to make ends meet.
If worst came to worst, they could send a party outside to trade, but they wanted to avoid that as long as they could. They didn’t want to bring attention to themselves. Preservation was a sanctuary for those who didn’t fit in or were not safe elsewhere. Some had been slaves, some had simply been too different. Many had faced persecution as witches, even though only some of them—like Arada and Mensah herself—actually were.
Outside Preservation, power was held by individual lords presiding over others. Here, they did things in their own way. Everyone was free to keep their own beliefs and make their own choices. Arada could marry Pin-Lee, just as Mensah could marry Farai and Tano and live with two spouses and seven children and many of their relatives together in their large house. Decisions that concerned the entire village were made together, based on consensus. Still, someone needed to coordinate matters, and sometimes people needed advice, and somehow, Mensah had become the one others went to for this. She was not supposed to be solely responsible for the entire village, and yet, on many days, she felt like she was. It could be a heavy burden.
“I think it’s wolves,” Arada went on. “Ratthi says that he’s heard talk of them prowling the woods. A pack led by a real beast of an animal, freakishly big and with fur so pale it’s almost white.”
“Have you set wards on the pasture fence? Would you like my help with them?” Mensah offered.
Arada wasn’t unskilled, herself, but Mensah had the advantage of more years spent practising her craft.
“I did, after we lost the previous one,” Arada said. “It’s just not natural for wild animals to come so close. They must be desperate. It might be best if you fortified the wards, to make sure we’re doing everything we can to protect the flock.”
“I’ll do it this afternoon,” Mensah promised.
As always, she had many things to take care of, but this was important. They couldn’t afford to lose more sheep. She would make the time.
After Arada, there were a few more people who wanted to meet Mensah during this unofficial audience hour. Then, she headed across the village to the fallow fields. Even if she had ended up handling more and more administrative tasks over the years, she didn’t consider herself above anyone. It was important for her to contribute to the physical work, too, as long as she had the constitution for it.
Among the many familiar faces Mensah saw at work ploughing the fields, her family members and other residents of Preservation, there was a newcomer that stood out to her. She’d only met this person once before, some days ago: a tall figure with close-cropped hair the colour of straw and not even the trace of a beard, like one might’ve expected from someone of its build. It was important for Mensah that everyone joining them at Preservation felt welcome, so once they stopped for their midday meal, she approached the latest arrival.
“Good day, Rin,” she greeted it. Both its name and its chosen form of address were foreign to her, but they did not judge or question anyone for such choices here.
“Milady,” Rin replied.
Mensah suppressed her instinct to laugh at the formality because just like her, Rin was getting used to new ways to address people. “No one is a lord or lady here. I may live in the largest house, but no one is subservient to me,” she corrected it gently. “Just call me Mensah.”
“Yes. Of course,” Rin said. It was facing away from her, its mouth a tight line. It didn’t seem comfortable with her company. This was the opposite of what Mensah had been hoping to achieve: setting this person at ease and reassuring it that it was accepted as a part of the community.
She hadn’t spent much time with Rin, but going by what she’d heard from the others, it was tireless with even the hardest of physical tasks and never complained. It also didn’t speak much, just in general. Some found it intimidating, Thiago had told her—and she had understood between the lines that he was one of those people, himself. She could understand how such a combination of obvious strength and unwillingness to interact would not endear Rin to others. Most inhabitants of Preservation tended to be rather on the talkative and affectionate side. Still, there was room for everyone.
“I really appreciate your help out here. You’re doing a great job,” Mensah said.
“I—” Rin began, looking even more like it wanted to run away. “I’m just doing my part.”
“And that is very good. We’re all grateful,” Mensah said. “If you ever need anything, just ask. Warmer clothes, new boots, a place to sleep. We’re not rich, but we support each other.”
Among the rumours Mensah had heard about Rin, one she was concerned about was that no one knew where it slept. It had not asked for housing, even though there were places where it could have stayed—either with a family who had room to spare, such as her own, or upstairs in Ratthi’s inn, if it preferred somewhere more private. The spring was turning to summer, but the nights were still chilly. She didn’t like the idea that it might be sleeping outside on its own, especially not with all this talk of wolves.
“Yes. Thank you,” Rin said but didn’t ask for anything.
Perhaps it needed more time to grow used to their way of doing things, which was undoubtedly different from whatever it was used to. It was not their way to pry into anyone’s past. For many of the people here, it was full of bad things that they had put behind them and did not want to talk about. Preservation was meant to be a new start for everyone. Mensah truly hoped that it could also be that for Rin, but for now, she made her excuses and left it to its portion of salted meat and dried fruit.
For the next few weeks, things remained peaceful, with no more sheep lost since Mensah had added her fortifying touch to the fence wards. She let herself hope that this was the end of their trouble with the wolves, but alas, that was not to be.
A day arrived when in spite of all their precautions, more animals went missing—not one, but two, an ewe and her lamb. The trail of blood leading to the woods seemed almost too obvious to have been left behind by a cautious predator.
Bharadwaj, who knew the lands around Preservation better than any other, took Arada and a few armed volunteers out to the woods. There wasn’t much hope of finding the sheep alive, but they felt like they must do something, and Mensah understood this well.
The Preservation way was to try to coexist with nature as much as they could, and they only hunted out of necessity. Yet, when predators were behaving in such an unusual way, there might be something wrong with them—an illness, maybe even a curse, and it would need to be dealt with.
The day turned to afternoon and then to evening with no word of the party’s return. After the evening meal with her family, Mensah joined some of her closest friends at the inn, waiting for the search party. Aside from Ratthi, who ran the establishment, Pin-Lee was there, of course, as was Gurathin, the blacksmith, one of the more recent arrivals.
“I should’ve gone with her,” Pin-Lee said ruefully. “It’s getting dark, and there are wolves! Anything could happen!”
“You did well to stay behind,” Ratthi countered, handing out another mug of hot herbal drink for them. “As talented as you are, tracking and hunting are not among your skills.”
“You’re right. But Arada has no such skills, either. She should’ve stayed, too,” Pin-Lee said. “Leave the tracking and hunting to Bharadwaj and others who know how to hold a bow or a sword.”
“I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” Mensah reassured everyone, even though she felt a growing concern, as well. She wouldn’t be able to rest until she was sure her people were safe.
To everyone’s great relief, some one and a half mugs later, the party finally returned. None of them seemed hurt, but they did appear shaken.
“We saw it! We saw the pale wolf!” Arada exclaimed, sitting down on the bench as close to Pin-Lee as she could without actually being in their lap.
“Oh! Was it as large as the rumours claim?” Ratthi asked.
“Yes! Largest I ever saw,” Arada said.
“Did you slay it?” Gurathin demanded.
“And what of the sheep?” Mensah said. “Did you find them?”
Bharadwaj pulled up a stool and sat down, leaning her hands on the edge of the table as if for balance. “No, we did not slay the wolf, and there was not a sign of the sheep,” she said. “Even though we looked much longer than was safe. I’m sorry we made you all worried.”
“They were right to worry, you almost died!” Arada said.
Gurathin reached out to place his hand on Bharadwaj’s and said, “Are you all right? Was it because of the wolf?”
“Yes. No. Well, yes,” Bharadwaj said. She seemed more pensive and less anxious about all this than Arada. “I’m all right because of the wolf. I think it protected me.”
“From what?” Ratthi said. He’d taken a seat on the bench next to Pin-Lee; there were no other patrons left, this time of the night.
“A falling tree. The wind had started to pick up, and it was getting dark. I hadn’t realized that this large oak was barely standing after the last spring storm,” Bharadwaj explained. “It would've caught me unawares, but I heard a howl and there it was, the wolf, loping towards me. It startled me and made me run in the other direction. I assumed that it was going to attack me, but it didn’t. Then the tree came down, and the wolf was just gone, like a ghost. We looked for it, but there was no trace of it.”
“And you saw the wolf, too?” Pin-Lee asked Arada.
“I did,” Arada said. “I admit it was from afar, and there wasn’t much light, but it really was very large, and moved so fast! It looked white, except for its face, which was darker. I don’t know if Bharadwaj is right. It may have been trying to attack her, and she just got lucky that the tree fell and stopped it.”
“The timing was too close to be a coincidence,” Bharadwaj insisted. “It must have been on purpose.”
“But wolves aren’t that smart,” Gurathin said. “And why would it want to protect you? I’ve never heard of such behaviour.”
“Well, I do find myself wondering if it might not be an ordinary wolf at all,” Bharadwaj said.
Everyone fell quiet for a moment at this suggestion, looks of disquiet exchanged across the table. They all knew of magical wolf-like beings, of hellhounds and direwolves and werewolves. Any such creature would be far more dangerous than an ordinary wolf, more intelligent and less predictable.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Mensah said, stepping from her role as concerned friend to her position as informal leader of the village. “It may simply be a large wolf with unusual colouring. I’ll go over the wards around the pasture again tomorrow. Let us also put word out that for safety, no one should roam the woods after dark until we know for sure what we’re faced with.”
As promised, Mensah spent the next day sharing her instructions with everyone she met and telling them to spread the news as well. She didn’t want to make anyone afraid for no reason, but the risk that a malicious magical being might have taken an interest in the village was not something to treat lightly.
Among the people she talked to was Rin, whom she met again at work in the fallows. If it was sleeping in the wild, it was particularly important for it to know of the concerns of beasts in the woods.
Rin looked visibly tired when Mensah caught sight of it: moving in a noticeably slower, stiffer way than usual, with deep shadows under its eyes. She had meant to simply pass on the message, but instead, she couldn’t help but ask, “I’m sorry, but are you all right? You seem unwell.”
“I’m fine, Lady M—Mensah,” Rin stammered, as if startled by the very question.
“If ever you’re not, you can come to me. I have some knowledge of healing herbs and the like, and might be able to help,” Mensah offered. She assumed Rin must’ve realized by now that witchcraft was common in the village, but in case it had not, and was not used to it being openly discussed, she didn’t want to startle it.
“Thank you, but I don’t need that,” Rin said. “I just caught too little sleep. I can still fulfil all my duties.”
“Don’t worry about it. If you wish to take a day off and rest, you’re always free to do so. You’ll still get your share of food and other necessities,” Mensah assured it. This had already been explained to Rin when it had arrived, but she thought it best to remind it, in case it had not yet realized that its upkeep was not conditional on it working a full day, every day.
“I can work,” Rin repeated.
“As you wish,” Mensah said. “There was something else I also wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yes?” Rin asked.
“There have been sightings of an unusual animal near the village. Perhaps a wolf, perhaps something else that resembles one. You should avoid being out after dark,” Mensah said, then decided to brave a direct suggestion. “How and where you spend your nights is of course up to you, but you could come stay at my house or ask Ratthi for a room at the inn.”
This brought up the strangest expression on Rin’s face, not of fear but of something like guilt, its eyes flicking in Mensah’s direction as if it she had scolded it. “No,” it said. “I’m not worried about wolves. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure,” Mensah said.
As she walked away and moved ahead to other tasks, she couldn’t stop turning the conversation around in her mind.
The unexpected way Rin had responded to the news about the wolf, and the coincidence that it seemed to be so tired as to appear ill on the day after the hunting party had been out—both of these things seemed to point at an answer that was as obvious as it was outlandish.
Now that Mensah thought of it, it seemed to her that the rumours of the strange wolf had started to circulate around the same time as Rin had arrived at Preservation. But she was not going to speak such concerns aloud, not even to Farai and Tano. She might be wrong about this, and the last thing she wanted to do was to point a finger at a person who was already struggling to fit in.
Mensah made the discovery later on that same day.
She was going over farm buildings together with her spouses, inspecting old wards and setting new ones where they noticed any obvious gaps.
She was by herself when she noticed it: a single tuft of white fur, on the ground near a small shed that used to house goats but was currently not in use. She thought at first that the hair might be from the goats, perhaps left in the shed a long time ago and recently carried out by birds or rodents, but leaning closer, she saw that the texture wasn’t right.
It could easily be from a dog, she told herself. They had several in the village, after all. Nevertheless, even though she knew that she was unlikely to meet a wolf in broad daylight, she felt nervous as she stepped inside the shed to see if anything was amiss.
All she found were a few more hairs, so unremarkable that she only noticed them because she was searching for them. The soil floor was too densely packed to show footprints or other signs of disturbance. It was a small space, with stone walls, no door one could close and a roof that had not been mended in years; she didn’t think it would keep out rain. It would be a dismal place for anyone to stay, human or beast.
Mensah did not set any wards on the shed, nor did she mention what she had found to the others. Instead, she put aside some of her stew at supper and carried the bowl to the shed.
The food was gone the next morning, the bowl licked clean but left in the exact same corner where she had placed it. It might have been one of the village dogs, or a wild one, or a fox—any number of animals—but she thought it unlikely that they would’ve left it so precisely positioned.
Trying to catch sight of Rin in the fields that day, Mensah couldn’t tell if it looked better than before and was hesitant to approach it. Instead, she took more food to the shed that evening and carried in several armfuls of hay for bedding.
The following morning, bursting with curiosity, she went to see if anything had changed in the shed. And indeed, she found the hay flattened, as if from someone resting in it. When she looked more closely, she found stray hairs among the straws, the same light colour she had spotted before.
“Oh, by the deities, what am I doing?” she asked herself as she sneaked out of the house on the third evening in a row like a misbehaving child, delivering more food and a blanket to the shed.
This was not how they did things, not in her household, nor in Preservation at large. Theirs was a community built on openness and trust. And worse still, this was not some private and personal matter that affected no one; if she was aiding a werewolf, it was a choice could affect them all. She should have shared her suspicions with others and established a consensus. She was just too afraid that no one would understand. Some prejudices ran deep, even in Preservation.
Whether her hunch was correct or not, whether she was helping Rin or a stranger or just a wild animal that was untouched by magic, she was taking a risk doing this. She told herself that it was a carefully weighed one. If the beast was well-fed, she hoped that it would lose interest in the sheep.
On the afternoon of the next day, once they were done with the day’s sowing, Mensah finally risked approaching Rin again. She did her best to seem like she just wanted to make friendly conversation, even though she was desperate to confirm her suspicions. She was concerned that she might scare it away if she was too direct. If Rin was indeed a shapeshifter, possibly under a curse, it had to be terrified of people learning the truth.
As she got a better look at its face, Mensah thought Rin looked less tired. Whatever the cause, whether Mensah had contributed to it or not, she was glad to see it.
“Good day, Rin,” she greeted it, offering it what she hoped to be a casual smile. “Have you been sleeping better?”
“Yes. Thank you,” Rin said, its way of speaking as stilted as usual.
“Excellent, excellent. And you’re getting enough food?” she asked, an even more transparent question, so she added, “We don’t have as much here as one would see in larger towns, but we make do.”
Trying her hardest to read Rin’s expression, Mensah thought it went from mild surprise to a pensive furrow of its brow. “It’s better than I’m used to,” it said.
That was the first mention of its past that Mensah had heard, but she didn’t ask further. Neither did she push for any admission of its identity, which this had not yet given her. Instead, she said, “Well, as I’ve told you before, if there’s anything else you lack, you need only to ask. And I want you to know that we have all kinds of people here. The village gates are open to everyone, whoever they are and whatever their past was like.”
Rin’s reply was dry: “Not the safest arrangement.”
“Perhaps not, but in the end, most people want simple things—food and warmth, a roof over their heads. A sense of community. When we provide this for each other, everything tends to work out,” Mensah said. It was idealistic, and it would have been a lie to say that they never had any issues, but she had yet to come across a better alternative.
“Until it no longer does,” Rin said, so softly that Mensah almost didn’t catch it.
For several weeks after Mensah began providing for the mysterious guest sleeping in the old goat shed, things remained uneventful. There were no more missing sheep and no more sightings of wolves, neither natural nor magical.
Then, Ratthi brought a newcomer to Mensah’s weekly counsel.
“This is Leebeebee,” he introduced her. “She showed up at the inn late last night, and—well, I will let her tell you the story herself.”
It was rare to see visitors in Preservation. Rin had joined them less than two months ago, and Mensah was surprised to see another unfamiliar face so soon. She was pale of skin, same as Rin, and her shoulder-length hair was light, as well. Mensah recognized her clothes as Preservation-made; something must have happened to the ones Leebeebee had worn when she arrived.
“Welcome to Preservation,” Mensah said. “How can we help you?”
For a brief moment, she found herself reconsidering her previous assumptions—perhaps this could be the wolf instead of Rin. Such thoughts vanished as soon as Leebeebee began to speak.
“Oh, you’ve already helped me so much, I’m so grateful,” she said, running her hand along Ratthi’s arm in a possessive gesture. “Ratthi here, he’s been a real knight! But I suppose you don’t have knights, do you? Not your way of doing things. I wish you did, we could use one. We will take whatever we can, as it may be.”
“Why would you need a knight, and who is ‘we’?” Mensah asked.
“Me and the others from Gray Creek. That’s where I come from,” Leebeebee replied. “We were attacked by wolves. They took all our sheep, all of them, it was a massacre! It was terrible! Ratthi can tell, he saw me last night. So much blood!”
“Yes, she truly was a frightful sight,” Ratthi said.
“I swear there’s something unnatural about the big monstrous one that’s leading them. I’m here to ask, to beg for your help,” Leebeebee said. She turned around and opened her arms in a gesture of invitation at the other villagers in the hall. “All of you! Come help us fight this creature! None of us will be safe until we’ve sent it back to the depths from whence it came!”
Something about all of this, the way she spoke, the way she acted, did not sit right with Mensah. It seemed like a performance, she thought, not genuine. “Where is this Gray Creek? I’ve never heard of it,” she asked, because that was one of the many details that she found odd.
“Oh, it’s just a small town, it’s on the other side of the Western Hills. Quite far, several days by foot,” Leebeebee replied. It was suspicious; as far as Mensah knew, the terrain was difficult in that direction, the closest settlements weeks away, not days.
“And you would have us travel there with you?” Mensah said.
“Of course not. That’s not where the wolves are, not anymore. We tracked them here,” Leebeebee said. “Followed them for days and days. My party gave me the only horse so I could ride ahead and come speak to you. You have to help us! We must slay this abomination. We’re all in this together. Man against wolf. And woman. And other people, too,” she finished, casting a glance in Pin-Lee’s direction.
Could it be that Preservation had been free of wolf attacks because the pack had been elsewhere? It would fit what they had seen as well as anything. And yet, there was an unease in Mensah’s mind, a reluctance to believe what this woman was saying; a dislike of her attitude, which seemed more bloodthirsty than desperate.
Mensah could suggest that the decision to join the hunt should be put up for discussion and a consensus vote. That would at least delay Preservation’s participation for a day because a wait was required to get word to everyone and give them time to think. But if she did that, there was a high risk that a majority would support Leebeebee’s plan.
Out of Mensah’s closest friends, Bharadwaj still insisted that the wolf had protected her, but Arada was very concerned for her flock, and Pin-Lee was likely to vote the same as her. Gurathin, who had only arrived in Preservation a few years ago, had strong opinions against wolves. Ratthi might well be swayed by the others’ attitudes, regardless of his original views. If there was a consensus, that would lead to more villagers joining the hunt than would otherwise choose to do so. Perhaps it would be best to leave it up to each individual, unless someone else demanded a vote.
Mensah stood up, to make sure she had the attention of everyone in the room. “I can’t speak for all of Preservation, only for myself. On my behalf, I say that the wolves have left us alone for weeks, and I do not wish to hunt them down unnecessarily. Of course, if there are others who choose otherwise and want to go with you, that is their right. I would, however, like to remind all of you that it is our way to coexist as best we can and only resort to violence if there are no other options left.”
“Fine, be a coward and hide behind your thick stone walls!” Leebeebee told her, spoken rudely over her shoulder. The rest of her words were pointed at the other gathered people. “Any of you who are not afraid to do what must be done, you can find me at the inn. Come on, Ratthi. Let’s go.”
Ratthi aimed an apologetic look in Mensah’s direction before following Leebeebee. The last thing Mensah caught as they retreated was him telling Leebeebee, “You know, I’m not going to join your hunt, either. It’s not that I’m afraid. I simply have no talent for that sort of thing.”
This interlude had certainly made an impression on the villagers. There were many lively conversations in the hall afterwards, among those waiting for their turn to talk to Mensah. She, herself, struggled to focus on the remaining questions.
As soon as she was done, Mensah hurried out to the fields. Rin was at work, as usual; it never sought her counsel and didn’t seem to care for gossip. This time, Mensah made no effort to appear nonchalant, but walked straight to where Rin was dragging a harrow over the recently sowed soil. It was a heavy implement, meant to be pulled by a horse. For Rin to take on the role of a beast of burden was a feat of strength, but perhaps also spoke something of how it saw itself.
“Did you hear of the new arrival, yet?” she asked it right away.
“No. Who? Why?” Rin said. It was breathing heavily, but did not stop its strenuous task to speak with her.
“Her name is Leebeebee, and she’s gathering people to go after the wolf pack,” Mensah said.
At this, Rin did pause to look in her direction, barely concealed distress on its face. “The wolf pack?” it repeated.
“Most of all, its leader,” Mensah said. “I don’t condone this, but I also can't stop anyone who wants to join her.”
Rin tensed for a moment as Mensah spoke, but then a resignation seem to take it over. “They’re not wrong to do this. It’s likely to be a dangerous creature,” it said. It turned away from her again and went back to hauling its load.
“I do think they’re wrong,” Mensah said, following along with Rin. “I don’t believe the wolf is a danger to the village.”
Rin didn’t stop or even slow down. It said, “You can’t know that.”
“Well, if you know better, you could tell me,” Mensah suggested. It was direct, but going by Rin’s reactions during this conversation, she was more convinced than ever that it must be the wolf.
“I have work to do,” Rin said, its eyes kept firmly ahead.
“Of course,” Mensah said. There was clearly no point in pursuing this further, and she had conveyed her most important message already. “Take care and stay safe, Rin.”
She wasn’t surprised that Rin was unwilling to speak, but she was disappointed. She could only hope that her words had convinced it to be careful and stay away from Leebeebee’s hunting party.
In the end, none of Mensah’s household nor any of her closest friends joined the hunt. There were some others, however, who decided it was a worthy cause, and as the village blacksmith, Gurathin did assist in arming the party before it set out.
On the morning after the murderous mob had followed Leebeebee into the woods, Mensah was more anxious than ever as she walked over to the shed. She found the food bowl on its side, its contents scattered about, and two mice scurried away from it as she got closer. It looked like animals smaller than a wolf had helped themselves to it, this time. The hay bedding and the blanket looked undisturbed from how she had last seen them.
Her concern growing worse and worse, Mensah sought for Rin in the fields, and saw no sign of it. None of the other people at work had seen or heard from it. Neither were there any news of the wolf; the hunters had not returned, but were still out, somewhere.
If Mensah had had any remaining doubts about Rin’s identity, this as good as confirmed it. Its absence could be a good sign: perhaps the knowledge of the hunt had made it run away and hide. It was possible that it had left Preservation forever, convinced that they wanted it dead. The thought that they might have driven away someone who clearly needed their help was awful, but it would be preferable to it ending up dead.
The following night, Mensah could barely sleep at all. She got up in some deity-forsaken hour before sunrise, her spouses still in deep slumber. Candle in hand, she made her way through the quiet lands.
She almost missed the traces of blood in the flickering light of the flame. When she noticed the first drops on the ground, still many paces from the shed, and looked more closely, she realized it was a trail leading towards the building. Worse yet, looking the other way, she noticed a larger stain next to a discarded crossbow bolt, its tip gleaming silver under the congealed crimson.
Her heart in her throat, she hurried towards the shed.
At the doorway, she stopped. She could tell right away that the space ahead of her was not empty.
She heard it, first: the pained, whiny noise of its breathing. As she raised the candle in front of her, she caught sight of a large shape lying low on the hay. Its pale coat of fur was smeared with blood in many places. Some of it seemed to be from bites or lacerations, but there was also the shaft of another crossbow bolt sticking out of its flank. Silver, she knew, could be deadly to werewolves. The way the bolt was positioned, close to the neck, must have made it impossible for the wolf to remove on its own. It was amazing that it—Rin, it had to be Rin—had made its way here in such a state.
The wolf opened its eyes to glare at her. In spite of the low light, she was sure they were the exact shade of blue that she had seen many times previously on a human face. Its teeth bared, it let out a low growl.
She needed to help it—but it was terribly dangerous.
Up until this point, her concern had overcome all caution. Now, she looked at the teeth and claws and the cold eyes that held no sign of recognition. In spite of its injuries, the wolf was likely still more than capable of killing her.
Keeping her body language as nonthreatening as she could, Mensah stepped into the shed. The wolf would no doubt sense how afraid she was, but that was unavoidable. Of course she was nervous. Most people would never have thought of approaching such a being.
“Shhh, it’s all right. I only want to help. You know me, don’t you?” she murmured.
The blue eyes stayed firmly on her, but the wolf didn’t lift its head, as if it lacked the strength to do even that much.
Barely daring to breathe, Mensah knelt in front of the wolf. She set down her candle near the doorway, at a safe distance from the flammable bed of hay.
In any other situation, if she had come across an injured person or animal, she would have hurried back to her study to fetch her herbs and other supplies. She would also not have considered removing an impaled object until she had all those at hand. This situation was unusual: getting the silver out as fast as possible was the highest priority.
“Will you let me touch you? I know you must be in so much pain. I can help,” she said, holding out a hand.
The wolf sniffed at her fingers, then finally seemed to recognize her. Its mouth relaxed, its teeth no longer visible. Its eyelids drooped, as if it was barely holding on to consciousness and keeping up a defensive stance had taken all the energy it had left.
“Yes. It’s me, Mensah. Everything will be all right,” she said.
She kept her motions slow and obvious as she moved her visibly trembling hand towards where the crossbow shaft stuck out of the wolf’s side, rising and falling with its panting breaths. Mensah was not well-versed in canine anatomy and prayed that it had not pierced a lung, because such an injury would surely fall beyond her skills as a healer.
“This will hurt, but then it will feel better. I promise,” she said, hoping that it was true, and that the wolf would understand enough to not lash out at her.
She hated having to cause it more discomfort, but she had to get the silver out, and she thought it was best to be as fast as possible. She closed her fingers around the bolt and yanked.
The wolf whimpered—and then, something happened that she had not known to expect based on any of the lore she had learned.
Instead of lunging at her, the wolf fell away from her, landing on its side, its limbs twisting in convulsive motions. In the dim light of the candle, its entire body seemed to blur, as if its thick fur were melting away, its very flesh and bone shifting. It was still making agonized noises, and no wonder; what was happening looked tremendously painful.
Mensah dropped the bolt on the ground and backed away until her back hit the opposite wall. It felt like she should not be watching this moment of transformation, so she averted her eyes, keeping them on the doorway. She could see that the light outside had changed, darkness starting to give way to dawn.
Only when there was no more movement at the corner of her eye did she turn to look again.
Where the wolf had lain was now a familiar, lean human figure: Rin, curled up on its side, its naked skin coated in blood. Its many wounds stood out more clearly like this, cuts and bite marks and the deep stabs of at least three crossbow bolts. In front of her eyes, some of the other injuries were starting to heal, the edges of gashes knitting together—but the ones from the silver-tipped projectiles were still bleeding.
She made her way back to Rin, placing a hand on its arm, which seemed unhurt. “Rin? Rin, are you with me?”
There was no response to her words nor to her touch, aside from a slight shiver coursing through its body. Mensah went to pick up the blanket she had brought some weeks earlier, which was bunched up in a corner. She realized, lifting it, that Rin’s clothes and boots were also there, but she decided against trying to dress it. Instead, she simply wrapped the blanket around it, both for warmth and for dignity.
Rin still didn’t react in any conscious way to her touch. She didn’t know if such lethargy was normal after shifting shape or if it meant that Rin was on the verge of succumbing to its wounds. She wished she had her supplies. Fortunately, with Rin no longer in wolf form, things were somewhat easier: she could take it to the supplies instead of bringing them to it. She just needed some assistance.
Mensah stepped outside and called out for help, as loud as her voice would carry.
The shed stood some distance away from her own house, a stable and a barn between them. The closest inhabited building was Arada and Pin-Lee’s home, and to her relief, she soon saw them racing towards her. What she was not expecting was the third person who followed right behind them: Ratthi, whose inn was not at all in the vicinity. She was not going to question this and was glad for the additional pair of hands.
The four of them had only gotten Rin out of the shed when they found themselves facing yet another person, and he did not seem inclined to help. It was Gurathin, holding up a silver-tipped crossbow bolt. “I know what this is—I made it myself. Have you really not figured it out?” he asked, glaring at them and the unconscious figure they were carrying. “That’s the wolf! Why are you helping it?”
“Because that’s how we do things here,” Mensah said. She didn’t intend to stop, but the others had, with various noises of confusion.
“You knew but didn’t tell them?” Gurathin said accusingly. “It’s a werewolf! It’s a danger to all of us. You should let go of it. If it dies, so be it.”
“No. We will do no such thing. We don’t know what part it played in recent events,” Mensah said. “We will help it, just like we’d help anyone else, and we will do our best to understand. Then, and only then, can we discuss if anyone’s behaviour might warrant punishment. Now, if you’re unwilling to assist us, you would do well to get out of our way.”
This seemed to make him thoughtful, and he did step aside, but he didn’t leave. He followed along all the way to Mensah’s house, still holding on to the crossbow bolt, as if he might be able to use that to protect the rest of them with it. But there was no need to protect anyone. Rin did not wake up, nor make a single noise, as they carried it past the barns and into the house. When they finally placed it on the narrow bed in Mensah’s study, fresh blood was still trickling out of its silver-induced wounds, and she was terribly worried, because she wasn’t at all sure how to treat such injuries.
For three days and three nights Rin fought for its life, ridden with fever, sometimes speaking in words that Mensah couldn’t understand. It didn’t shift to wolf form again. She didn’t know if this was because the change was voluntary or because its body was simply too weak. She barely left its side during this time; hardly slept and only ate because her spouses kept bringing her food and reminding her. They were wonderful, and she owed them a better explanation for all this, but it would have to wait.
She did everything she could think of to help Rin, with poultices and incense and prayers to every higher power that she knew. She pored over all her scrolls and books, inherited from generations before her or acquired on rare travels outside Preservation, for any lore on werewolves that she wasn’t aware of. It was disheartening to find how much was written about destroying them and how little about healing them.
When she lost faith in her own abilities, she leaned on the strengths of her friends: Arada’s runes, Bharadwaj’s herbs and Ratthi’s potions. She even went to Gurathin for a sharp scalpel, to cut into the wounds and make sure there were no traces of silver left, but then had to ask Bharadwaj to hold the blade, since her own hands were shaking too much.
Which of the treatments finally worked, Mensah couldn’t tell, but on the third night, Rin’s fever broke. The following morning, it opened its eyes, pained and exhausted but alert, and asked her where it was.
“You’re in my study, in my house,” Mensah told it, and then, seeing Rin’s instantly startled expression, added, “Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”
“But you know what I am. You saw me shift,” Rin said. Mensah was surprised that it remembered that much.
“Yes, and I had already suspected it for many weeks,” Mensah said. “That’s why I tried to warn you.”
“I don’t understand why you would help me,” Rin said. As always before, except in wolf form, it kept looking straight ahead, not at her.
“Because it’s our way to help people in need,” she said.
“But I’m not ‘people’. I’m not even human,” it pointed out.
“That could be debated,” Mensah said, taking a seat on the floor by its bed. This, she expected, might be a long conversation. “You must have realized by now that the same could be said about many of us in Preservation. In other places, we would be burned at the stake.”
“And yet, your fellow villagers want me dead,” Rin said.
She hated that it wasn’t wrong to think that. Rin’s identity had remained a secret so far, only known to Mensah, her closest friends, and her spouses, but others in the village were starting to suspect a connection. Of course they were, given its obvious absence from the fields and the timing of its disappearance that coincided with the hunt.
Mensah was concerned what would happen if the truth came out. There had never been a werewolf in the village before, and as welcoming as its inhabitants were, they were still afraid of the unknown. It did not help that the hunting party had still not returned. The village was awash with rumours again, people voicing concerns that the wolf might have killed them all. Having seen how terribly injured Rin had been, she could not believe that. She also wanted to believe that without the external influence, Preservation would not have mobilized against it in such a way.
She said, “Leebeebee is not from Preservation.”
“I don’t know which one goes by that name, but there were people that I knew from here. I recognized their scents,” Rin said.
She had wondered about how much Rin remembered of its time as a wolf. The things it was saying suggested that it was a lot, perhaps even all of it. Hopefully, this would finally bring clarity to recent events.
“Can you tell me what happened the night before I found you?” Mensah asked, careful to word it without any accusation.
“There’s not much to tell. They had been chasing me, and they finally caught me. I tried to fight but didn’t stand a chance, they were too many,” Rin said.
She had to be sure, so even though it was a hard question, she said, “Did you kill anyone?”
“I don't know,” Rin said. It didn’t seem regretful or defensive, just blank. “I hurt some humans. I think I killed at least one of the dogs.”
“There were dogs? What of the other wolves—your pack?” Mensah said.
“There are no other wolves,” Rin said. “Just dogs, with the bandits. I never wanted to fight them but they were starved and terrified of their humans, and I couldn’t get through to them.”
Somehow, Mensah had hoped that Rin would have others of its kind to keep it company. She was so sad to hear that it was all alone, all the time, that she almost missed the other revelation.
“Bandits?” she repeated. “I haven’t heard of any in the area in years. There's nothing here for them to steal.”
Realization dawned just as she finished speaking the words out loud, and Rin confirmed it right away: “If you're desperate enough, there’s plenty. Like sheep.”
“I didn’t believe you were behind it, but I also had no idea—it was Leebeebee and her Gray Creek friends all along?” Mensah said.
“I don’t know what they call themselves,” Rin said. “I didn’t have conversations with them. I only ever saw them as a wolf. I was trying to keep them away, and they were trying to get rid of me.”
It all suddenly made so much sense that she felt foolish for not suspecting something like this before. She had been confused how any animal would get around the wards she and Arada had set, but a human with some understanding of magic certainly could have. And the rest of the unusual details matched, as well. “I think they were trying to set you up. Spreading rumours about wolves, leaving behind trails of blood,” she said. “And when that failed to get us angry enough, they sent Leebeebee to incite us against you.”
“I doubt it took much incitement. No town is ever happy to discover a wolf on its grounds, let alone among its people,” Rin said. “I promise I’ll be on my way as soon as I’m fit enough.”
“You don’t need to leave, Rin. There’s a place for you here, I promise. The villagers will come around when they realize that you were protecting us,” Mensah said. It might take some time, but she was sure it would all work out, especially since she had more to offer. “Besides, I’ve spent much time reading while you’ve been recovering and learned about ways to deal with a curse such as yours. I can help. You don’t have to leave and you don’t need to be a wolf at all. You can be free.”
Rin didn’t respond, at first, and when Mensah glanced at it, she saw that its expression was troubled, its hands clenched in fists where they rested on top of the blanket. Finally, it said, “So, in order to stay, I would have to give up who I am. What I am.”
This was not the reply she had expected at all; she had not for a moment realized that Rin might see things in such a way. She hurried to say, “No, of course not! You don’t need to give up anything, if you don’t want to. I just thought—”
“You thought that it’s a curse, a burden. People always do, when they find out. But it’s not,” Rin said. “Yes, the sorcerer who made me thought that he was cursing me, but when I’m a wolf is when I feel truly free. Running through the woods at night, not having to worry about human things. The resentment and the fear. Those are the true burden.”
“Would you then prefer to stay a wolf, all the time?” Mensah asked. She’d not come across any rituals that could lead to such an outcome, but she was sure there would be a way, if that was what Rin wanted.
Again, it took its time to contemplate this before replying, “I’ve never considered that. I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t both. If I lost either side of myself, I would become someone else.”
It was eye-opening to hear Rin speak of its situation in this way, describing any alteration of itself as a loss instead of the lifting of a curse. She said, “Rest assured, I’d never suggest that you should give away a part of yourself just to make you fit in better. I simply said it because I didn’t understand. Now, I do. And please believe me when I tell you this: you’re welcome to stay, just as you are. Not only until you’re better, but for as long as you want. I would like it very much if you did.”
On the afternoon of that day, the Preservation people who had joined Leebeebee on the hunt finally returned to the village. They were hungry and miserable but uninjured. After the altercation with the wolf, they explained, they had spent a day trying to track it, and then they had ended up separated from the Gray Creek party. Far from home, in unfamiliar terrain and with little food, they had needed several miserable days to make their slow way back. What had become of Leebeebee and the rest of Gray Creek, they didn’t know.
During the days that followed, Mensah was torn about how to handle the aftermath. If Gray Creek stayed away, they could simply move on and forget about the entire incident. Keep the secret of Rin’s true identity to the small group who already knew it and continue their lives as usual. But then, many would still think that the wolf was to blame for taking the sheep, and that Gray Creek had been right to hunt it. Mensah didn’t like that at all.
For Rin’s sake, she hoped they could clear the wolf’s reputation, but that would be difficult to do without revealing its secret. Mensah very much wanted it to be able to live without hiding who it was, the same as everyone else in the village—but sharing that with others was a choice it needed to make itself. So far, it had been unsure when she had asked it if it might be willing to do that, and she was not going to pressure it. She was already concerned that one night it would disappear and never come back.
So far, Rin had stayed, even though it could’ve left if it had wanted to. It was back on its feet and nearly back to full health much sooner than any regular human would’ve been after having been so ill. It had tried going out in wolf form one night and had told her that it felt as good as ever. During its convalescent days, it had confided to her that as she had suspected, its transformation was largely voluntary. If the situation called for it, it had said, it could shift even in daytime, but the wolf always felt closer at night. And it was only around full moon that the urge became so strong that it was impossible to resist.
Mensah came to decide that whether or not Rin chose to share the truth about its magical nature with all of Preservation, there needed to be a meeting to discuss the events. She wanted to hear all the details about what had happened on the hunt. Perhaps there would be something else there to implicate Gray Creek, some kind of evidence that they had been behind the sheep theft. Just the fact that they had so conveniently disappeared and left the Preservation hunters on their own made them seem suspicious.
At her suggestion, at the time of her usual start-of-the-week counsel, every villager who wasn’t otherwise occupied gathered in the hall at her house.
Although Rin had admitted that it disliked large groups of humans, it joined the gathering, standing behind Mensah as villagers flowed in. Pin-Lee took their usual seat by Mensah’s side to keep notes. All of Mensah’s family and her close friends were there as well, and she counted many others who might not have bothered to join for a more commonplace discussion. Clearly, the matter of the wolf hunt had become a topic of great interest.
Mensah had stood up, about to begin the meeting, when one more person entered the room that made everyone stare and fall quiet.
Walking with obvious confidence, her head held high and a smile on her lips, Leebeebee crossed the crowded hall over to Mensah’s table.
“You’re courageous to show up here again after you abandoned our people in the woods,” Mensah told Leebeebee, not even trying to hide her disapproval.
“That was unfortunate, but really, if they were struggling to keep up, they should’ve said something,” Leebeebee replied callously. This brought up angry mutters in the surrounding crowd, but she didn’t seem to mind that, nor Mensah’s obvious annoyance.
“Why are you here, Leebeebee?” Mensah asked.
“To bring you the good news,” she announced, flashing a grin at Mensah. “The wolf is dead! It’s never going to bother you again.”
Leebeebee pulled something out of a sack she had been carrying and held it up in the air, turning around to show it to the entire room. It was a tail, pale gray in colour. It might’ve been from a wolf, but Mensah happened to know that losing its tail had not been among Rin’s injuries. This must be from some other creature, possibly from one of Gray Creek’s own dogs.
Oblivious to Mensah’s glare, Leebeebee came to face her again, and went on, “See? We got it. It took us a few days to find where it had gone to hide and lick its wounds, but we caught the bastard in the end and killed it.”
Behind Mensah, Rin let out a low growl, almost as if it were in wolf form again. Her family and friends, the ones who knew what Rin really was, were all casting confused glances in Mensah’s direction. The other people in the room seemed unsure how to take this, with a mix of cautiously positive muttering, but also some that sounded like disbelief.
“I imagine some kind of reward is in order for the service we’ve done to your fine village,” Leebeebee said, waving the tail in front of Mensah.
At this point, Mensah couldn’t contain her fury anymore. Feeling like some vengeful spirit had possessed her, she stepped around the table and swung her fist at Leebeebee’s smug face as hard as she could.
Leebeebee staggered back, holding one hand to a bleeding nose. She’d dropped the counterfeit wolf tail on the floor. “What the fuck?” she swore at Mensah. “What’s wrong with you! I’ve done you a favour, and this is how you pay me?”
The entire room was, again, extremely quiet.
“You’ve done nothing for us,” Mensah said, well aware that every eye in the room was now on her. Her still hand ached from the impact, but she found that she didn’t regret this act of violence in the least. She had no concrete evidence for her accusations, only her word, but she hoped her people would believe her over this intruder. She couldn’t let these lies stand. “I know you haven’t killed the wolf, because I’ve seen it within the past day. It’s alive. That’s not its tail. It’s probably not a wolf’s tail at all. And I know that it’s you and your Gray Creek friends who took the sheep, not the wolf.”
“You’re lying! We did kill the wolf! Shot three silver bolts in it, there’s no way it survived that. You can’t have seen it. And we weren’t stealing your sheep, we had plenty of our own until it slaughtered them,” Leebeebee said. Her smile was gone, and she seemed far less confident than moments ago.
“Where did you see the wolf, Mensah?” one of the villagers who’d been in the hunting party shouted.
“We really did shoot it, we can vouch for that,” another hunter added.
“Mensah’s telling the truth! I saw the wolf, too, just the other day,” Pin-Lee said.
“Yeah, so did I!” Ratthi joined in.
“And I,” Arada added.
Mensah wanted to groan out of frustration. It was heartwarming that they all wanted to support her and Rin, but Ratthi and Arada should have stopped to think before speaking. Having four different people suddenly claim they had recently seen the wolf, while all of them had obviously been in the village and not out in the forest, was the opposite of convincing. Mensah was desperately trying to come up with a story, a white lie that would make this make sense, when she heard Rin’s voice from behind her.
“They’re all telling the truth,” it said, sounding more assertive than Mensah had ever heard it. She turned to look, and saw that it had climbed on the table, towering over everyone in the room. “They’ve seen the wolf. You all have. You just haven’t realized it.”
She expected it to then simply say that it was the wolf, but it seemed to have decided that words were not enough and that it was going to do something far braver.
It fell forwards on all fours on the table as the change took it over. It hadn’t taken off its clothes, so they tore at the seams as its body began to rearrange itself, arms and legs turning into the wolf’s limbs, thick, pale fur sprouting out of its skin.
The previous silence was replaced with shouts and screams of alarm, and those who hadn’t already known of Rin’s magical nature backed away towards the other end of the room. Mensah noticed that in all this confusion, Leebeebee was trying to sneak towards the door, but Ratthi and Bharadwaj stepped in and caught her.
After the seemingly endless moment of transformation, Rin stood up on the table in its wolf form. It was the first time Mensah saw it in good light and unhurt, and it was huge and terrifying and magnificent. Aside from the mask-like black fur covering half its face and reaching down its neck, its coat was a mix of white and gray. Mensah could still spot sparser patches in places where the crossbow bolts had hit it, but its tail was very obviously whole.
Instead of going after Leebeebee or doing anything aggressive, Rin simply leaped off the table and loped over to sit on the floor next to Mensah. Even though it was a relaxed and clearly nonthreatening posture, she should’ve probably felt daunted—but she knew Rin, and she wasn’t afraid. Having the wolf by her side felt right, like the way things were supposed to be. She was very proud of Rin for doing this and glad for it, because now they could settle things properly, for once and for all.
“As you can all see, the wolf is alive and well,” Mensah said, her voice perfectly steady. “It’s not our enemy and never has been. I only learned of this very recently, but it’s been protecting our flock from Gray Creek all along.”
“But it’s a werewolf!” one of the hunters shouted.
“Yes. And I am a witch with two spouses. All of us would be equally persecuted outside this village. Here, all of us can be safe,” Mensah replied.
She hadn’t worded it as a question or a request, but Gurathin called out, “We need consensus!”
“There’s nothing to vote about,” Mensah said. “As long as Rin doesn’t harm others, which I know it won’t, we will welcome it among us. These are the fundamental values of Preservation.”
“Can we be sure that it didn’t already harm others? We have no proof of what happened to the sheep,” the hunter pointed out.
“We will have a confession,” Mensah said. With Rin following alongside her, she walked over to where Leebeebee stood. Ratthi and Bharadwaj were holding her by the arms to keep her from escaping.
“Speak the truth,” Mensah demanded. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Well, fine! Yeah, we took a few sheep. So what?” Leebeebee said dismissively. “It’s not like you couldn’t afford it. How many does a little shithole of a village like this need, anyway?”
The room had remained hushed aside from the few individual speakers, everyone still subdued from the shocking revelation of a werewolf among them. Leebeebee’s words broke that spell. Suddenly, everyone was booing and shouting, some even suggesting punishments the like of which were not Preservation’s way at all.
Mensah raised a hand to silence them again. To the room around her, she said, “We’re going to let her go. Let her flee and get as far away from us as she can. She and the others with her are banished from Preservation forever.” Then, she addressed Leebeebee directly. “You’re going to leave and stay away from my house and from this village. You’re not one of us, and you never will be. If you ever dare show your face here again, there are no guarantees for your safety.”
In a perfect complement to Mensah’s words, Rin growled at Leebeebee, showing off its vicious teeth.
The moment Ratthi and Bharadwaj let go of her, Leebeebee raced for the door. They hadn’t exactly voted on this, but since no one said anything or tried to stop her, Mensah decided it was good enough.
Once Leebeebee was out of sight, there was still the other important matter to address. “Anyone in disagreement of Rin’s presence, speak up now,” Mensah said. “But understand that to do so would go against our ways. You have my word that it will not hurt anyone who doesn’t approach it with ill intent.”
She could see Rin tensing up where it stood next to her, its ears flattened against its head—but no word of protest broke the silence in the room.
“It is decided, then,” Mensah said.
Rin relaxed, even wagged the tip of its tail slightly, and settled down on the floor by her feet.
And from that day forward, Preservation never lost another sheep again.