Dire Woods

“It’s the bog cat,” John Joseph screeched, “and he’s got company!”

Emily stumbled out of the woods beside him. “That stupid cat!” she bellowed. “This is just what we need!”

The old woman stepped daintily around the trolls and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Actually, it’s exactly what we need.” She pushed John Joseph and Emily gently out of the way, then stood, hands on hips under the light canopy of leaves. “Your rescue party is a little late, but appreciated none the less,” she called.

Emily’s head snapped up and she stared at John Joseph. Rescue party? She mouthed.

John Joseph watched in bewilderment, wand clutched in his hand, as the wolves caught up with the bog cat and then surged past him. He could hear the beasts panting as they rushed up and took turns licking and nuzzling the old hedge witch.

Mrs. Wickaby, in danger of being toppled, crouched down and hugged each and every one of them. “A little late, but appreciated none the less,” she repeated. “Ah, it’s so good to see you all.”

John Joseph could hear the trolls trashing and moaning behind him. They sounded confused and terrified. For once, he could understand their sentiments.

“Mrs. Wickaby?” he squeaked.

The old woman placed a gnarled hand on the head of the largest wolf and turned to face them. “Oh, I’m sorry, my dears,” she chirped. “I forgot to introduce you. Emily, John Joseph, these are my friends, Stargazer’s pack.” She gently rubbed worn fingers, through the wolf’s thick mane. “It seems our feline friend decided we needed a little help.”

As if she’d called him, the bog cat strode calmly up to the nearest wolf and head butted it on the shoulder. The wolf gave an indignant woof, and licked its whiskers.

“But how?” spouted an obviously confused Emily.

Her grandmother gave her a quizzical look. “He must have scented the pack as we passed through this area. When the trolls arrived, he went to get assistance. As for how he knows them?” She peered at the bog cat through half-closed eyes, “I’ve always known there was more to this creature than meets the eye. But enough supposing, let‘s sit down on the beach and get on with the introductions.” She glanced over her shoulder at the still squirming trolls. “The stench here is really quite obnoxious.”

They sat in a nice sunny spot with the water lapping at their feet while John Joseph tried to remember all the wolves’ names.

Stargazer was easy, the large male, had a blaze of white in the middle of his forehead. Moon Shadow with her dark coat with white tips was effortlessly identifiable also, but the rest, well, that’s where it started to get confusing. John Joseph couldn’t tell if he was looking at Shadow Runner, Long Fang, Sun Spot, Cloud Chaser, Water Walker or Comet.

“Do you speak wolf?” asked Emily, as they shared the last of their meager food.

The old woman laughed. “Why, no, dear, I don’t. Although I can get general feelings from them, but I think that‘s because we‘ve been friends for so long.”

“Then how do you know their names?” asked John Joseph.

The old woman wagged her shaggy, grey head. “Well, obviously, John Joseph, I gave them to them.” She gazed at the wolves surrounding her fondly. “I was camping out at Beggar’s Bluff one summer when I met the entire pack. We were all fishing at the same spot, enjoying the spring weather.“ The old woman shook her head and smiled gently. “They weren’t very good at fishing, let me tell you. I had to show them how. Well, one thing led to another and we became friends.”

John Joseph and Emily took a quick dip in the water after they’d finished eating. Emily thrashed around madly, whooping and hollering. John Joseph only went in far enough to get himself wet. He still hadn’t forgotten his experience in the river.

Mrs. Wickaby gathered up the limp sacks from their skimpy lunch as Emily and John Joseph dried themselves in the sun.

“What are we going to do about the trolls?” John Joseph asked. He could still hear them struggling in their wrappings of vines.

Mrs. Wickaby gestured towards a copse of trees further up the shoreline. “The littlest one’s still hiding in there. He’ll let them loose when we’ve gone. Hopefully, his releasing them should help them forgive him for running away.”

“We’re just going to let them go!” yelled Emily in amazement.

“They didn’t hurt us, young lady,” she responded.

Emily frowned. “Well, they sure tried to.”

“But they didn’t succeed,” the old woman stated. “And you two finally got to use those lessons we’ve been working on. A fair trade, I think.”

Emily harrumphed loudly. Her grandmother ignored her.

“The pack will follow us to Blighter’s Bend. Between them and the bog cat, we shouldn’t have any other trouble.”

John Joseph sincerely hoped she was right.

The rest of the day passed quickly. They stopped a few times to pick mushrooms and a few herbs. Mrs. Wickaby said there was a lovely spot on a small river just a few hours away. They’d catch some fish there, camp for the night and be at the village by early afternoon.

Once again, their destination was as beautiful as the old hedge witch had promised. It was a sandy, tree shaded-spot beside a gently meandering river. The smooth waters were bathed in dappled sunlight.

The tent went up in minutes. Mrs. Wickaby instructed John Joseph and Emily to start a small fire while she and the wolves caught dinner.

The two of them gathered dry branches from amidst the trees. Using the old woman’s knife, they cut shavings to start the fire. With the help of John Joseph’s wand, it was blazing in moments. “This is something I truly can do,” he assured Emily. They banked it carefully, then went down to watch the hedge witch and her friends catch fish.

Mrs. Wickaby had her baggy dress tied up around her hips and was standing silently in the still water. The bog cat was perched on a large, flat ledge over a deep pool. Three wolves were also in the water, staring intently into the depths.

“What the heck are you doing?” asked Emily.

Her grandmother slowly raised a finger to her lips.

John Joseph and Emily sat on the banks, the heat of the sun warming their heads as they stared at the strange group in front of them. No one moved, no one spoke. The only sound was the twittering of unseen birds.

Moon Shadow stirred first. Her head was a blur as it plunged into the water. With a whisk and a shake, she snapped her muzzle up into the air. A gleaming fish was wiggling between her jaws.

She tossed her catch onto the shore, where one of the pack caught it. In quick succession, the two other wolves caught two more fish. Even the bog cat, its great paw a blur as it lashed into the water, caught one. Finally, only the old woman was still in position, her arms still in the chilly waters past her elbows. They watched silently for another few minutes, then she pulled a wriggling trout from the clear river. It was the biggest one yet.

She sloshed through the water, her wispy hair hanging in her eyes, the large silver fish struggling in her hands. Once she reached the shore, she used a large rock to kill their dinner.

“How did you do that?” her granddaughter asked.

“Easy my dear,“ she replied. “We don’t want the poor thing suffering.”

“No, the fishing,” Emily said.

The old woman took her knife from John Joseph and started cleaning their upcoming meal. “An old friend taught me, John Joseph’s grandmother. It’s quite simple. You just wait quietly until a fish arrives, then you tickle its belly. Almost puts them to sleep.” She nodded at the wolves and bog cat waiting patiently beside her. “These four are fast enough to just pluck them out of the water. I used to be fast enough too, but old age is catching up with me. I taught the wolves how to do it.” She gave the cat a quizzical look. “But how our friend here figured it out? Well, it‘s just one more mystery concerning the cat.”

Dinner was delicious.

They were all so tired after the days activities that after they’d washed up, they went straight to bed.

Mrs. Wickaby woke them early.

“No breakfast this morning,” she informed them as they packed up their gear. “We’ll eat when we get to the village.” The old woman patted her belly. “A little uncomfortable, but we’ve no time for fishing at the moment.”

“Oh Grandma,” Emily moaned. “I’m starving and this spot is so gorgeous.”

“Sorry, darling,” Mrs. Wickaby replied. “But time is now of the essence.” She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. “John Joseph’s aunt should be well aware that he’s missing by now.” She gave a slight shiver.

“But she doesn’t know where we are!” John Joseph spouted.

The old woman gave him a wry smile. “Unfortunately, it won’t take her long to figure it out. First, she’ll terrorize the villagers and discovered that you didn’t leave by any of the roads, or by boat. Once she realizes that I’ve left too,” she threw her pack over her shoulder, “Dire Woods will be the only option left.”

“But it’s huge,” commented Emily.

“Fortunately, yes,” the old woman replied, “Which works to our advantage. Unfortunately, Angerona Alabaster won’t be searching on her own. She may not have friends, but she does have a deadly power, fear. She’ll use that fear to force others to do her bidding.”

Suddenly, John Joseph didn’t even feel like eating. In fact, he felt like throwing up.

The chase was on.