The New World Ch. 02

Brekken nudged him onto the rough muddy road, but with sudden strength from the thin cold air, Matteo took his hand and pulled him into the woods.

Their feet trudged through snow that was hard and grainy and crystalline. Snow that shushed around their feet like sand made of diamonds. Brekken let himself be pulled along, for he was filled with an insatiable curiosity. Was the boy dragging him off for a quick thank-you kiss? Would the boy try to thank him in clumsy English? Or in high fluting French?

He was shocked when Matteo stripped off the cloak. He watched dumbly, shivering and clasping his bare hands in his armpits from the cold as the boy stripped quickly down to his skin.

His body was cold and pale in the bright moonlight. The boy wrapped the clothes into a tight bundle about the size of a small bedroll. He tore a strip of cloth from the hem of the cloak with fingers that were trembling and starting to turn a delicate shade of blue. He used the cloth to tie this bundle tight, and leave a loop of cloth about a foot in diameter.

Brekken shook his head with confusion and started forward, certain that the boy had gone utterly mad. He froze when the boy smiled at him and limped towards him on feet that were raw and red and bare in the snow. The boy kissed his hand with cold lips, and held his hand in fingers that were shaking and numb.

"Merci." The strange boy whispered, his voice high and soft and fluttering, like bird, or the beat of a child's heart.

Brekken watched, numb and uncomprehending, his eyes glassy with fear when the boy started to twist and change. He watched the skin distend and the bones lengthen. He heard soft hurt groans and cries and he heard the bones crackle and creak. He started to moan when he saw the long narrow jaw full of teeth and the quick growth of fur that was long and luxurious and warm on a body that was rack-thin and bony.

When the massive, pony-sized wolf stopped shuddering and letting out whines of pain, it looked at him with huge eyes the color of honey. It wagged it's tail like an oversized puppy and licked his face. Brekken fell backwards on the snow and touched his face uncomprehendingly, too shocked to scream.

He watched the wolf lower his head and nudge his snout through the loop in the fabric he had made, and when the wolf raised his head he was wearing a rough collar with the bundle of clothing hanging against that narrow chest like a dog tag.

The wolf shook briefly and then started to move away, loping with an easy loose-jointed grace. A pace that ate up speed without eating up energy. Brekken fled back to the village, but as he entered a bar full of light and laughter and the smell of alcohol he heard the long wolf howl that was louder and clearer and fuller than any wolf sound he had heard in his life.

Matteo was free.