03/22/2020 Snippet, THE WOLF-MAN OF WESTHAVEN.

The title’s starting to grow on me.


“There’s not much here,” Jill said dubiously. They were looking down at the things that Maddie and Anton had collected. There had been a crude bag made of what appeared to be badly-cured rabbit fur and braided hair; inside it were some hunks of dried meat, a few sharpened stones, and a piece of bark with scratches on it that took the party a moment to recognize as actually being a crude map of the East Coast. There were also a few items of more modern manufacture: Jill picked up a canteen. “This from the caravan that got raided?” she said.

Anton shrugged. “It’s National Guard standard issue,” he said. “So probably. But look at the bag. How does it smell, Jack, Jill?”

“Fine,” Jack said; Jill nodded. “Why?”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “It stinks like it’s half-rotted, and the meat is moldy and green.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “So what? …Oh, right. You all have sensitive stomachs.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Maddie said. “The point is, it’s old. Our wolf-man probably brought it with him when he came east.”

“East?” asked Susan. “You think you know where he’s from?”

“Maybe,” said Anton. “Look at the map again. See how it shows all the major rivers between here and the Mississippi? Well, what’s beyond the Mississippi?”

“The Alliance,” growled Jill. “The fucking Magician’s Alliance. Sorry, Susan.”

“That’s all right,” Susan said. “Just use ‘damned’ next time. It’s not profanity if it’s literally true.”

1 Comment

  • acat says:

    I am now convinced that I am completely lost and do not know where this is going at all at all.
    This is not a bad thing, mind, as .. I would *pay* to find out ..
    (Cheshire grin)

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