Louis slept restlessly. He dreamed of the woods, of running and hunting, of cold air and dark nights. And his dreams always returned to the memory of his encounter with the wolf. Sometimes he relived it as it happened, other times he saw it happening from outside his body, as he leapt up to the cart and attacked the man with the knife.
He awoke with a start. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. He was not in the woods. He was in Westriver, the town where he was to meet Warwick. This was his room at the inn, where he had arrived late last night. There was a bandage on his arm.
He was still feeling a little shaky. He hadn’t managed to lose that feeling that the wolf was still near. But he had no time to worry about that now. He had to find Warwick. He dressed quickly and went down to the market.
Westriver was built on the point where two rivers joined into one larger river. It wasn’t a large town and there was little there aside from a few lumber mills. However, as it had sturdy bridges over all three rivers, it was a natural thoroughfare for those wishing to cross. And where there is traffic, there is trade.
The Ward farm was the closest of all farms that traded here, meaning it was alway Warwick’s first port of call. He had a good reputation in the town and was granted a discount on all the stands he rented in the market. As such, he always took at least three or four whenever he came to town. But even without all that, Louis could hear him from a mile away.
Like John, Warwick took after their father, being tall and thickly bearded. However, was a little rounder than his brothers, falling prey to the fine foods and delicacies of the larger towns. In same way, he’d picked up a few customs from the other traders. He was louder, jollier and more charismatic than the typical country-folk who lived in the valley. Louis found him when he overheard his distinctive, bellowing laugh. He was in the process of setting up his stands.
He grinned when he saw Louis approaching, but his face fell when he saw the bandage on his arm.
‘What happened to you?’ he said. ‘Bandits?’
‘No, no, it was a wolf.’
‘A wolf?’ Warwick repeated. ‘Just the one?’
‘Yes…?’
‘Pfff,’ he spluttered. ‘You’re fine. Come, let’s see what you’ve brought me.’
* * *
Louis was a little disgruntled his first kill had been dismissed so quickly. He was still rattled, but he wasn’t about to tell Warwick that.
Warwick’s deposit on his stands lasted one more day, so he wouldn’t be heading to Stonewater until tomorrow. Since Louis was there, Warwick said he might as well help out today and head back to the valley tomorrow. Louis didn’t mind. He wasn’t looking forward to going back by himself.
The work was pretty easy, though Louis wasn’t well practised with talking to strangers. It was a nice distraction though and he even got to meet a real dwarf, who was very far from home. Unfortunately, whenever there was a lull in customers and Louis had nothing to do, his mind would drift back to the wolf.
This was more than just post-trauma jitters. He could sense it nearby, he could feel its warm breath on the back of his neck. But whenever he turned around to catch it, it wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t. He knew it couldn’t be there. And yet that feeling never went away.
It was getting stronger.