Rise of the Wolf Queen all parts. All books are about: “reading the rise of black.... Secrets of a Distant Star John Jakes

Are you here: Insulation for clothes

- The wolves are coming! – a young guy rushed along the main street with a face distraught with fear. - People! These are wolves!

Panic began in the village. Men quickly armed themselves, women and children hid in houses. In the light of the torches, human figures were visible rushing around the village.

- Ahh! – suddenly there was a female squeal. A short, thin girl stood in the middle of the main square and pointed towards the forest. Everyone turned there...

A pack of wolves was advancing on the village. They walked, methodically killing everyone who came their way. The wolves looked somehow unusual: they were much larger than ordinary ones, and their fur was a strange color.

People defended themselves as best they could. But no one survived. However, there was also not a single wolf left. The village of Townbridge was a terrible sight that night - human corpses mixed with wolves were lying all over the streets...

300 years later...

- Bridget! – Bonnie shouted, hanging the harness on a large iron hook. - Bridget!

Bridget appeared at the stable door:

- Well, what do you want? – she asked displeasedly. - Why did you shout?

- Bridget, I came up with something! – Bonnie blurted out. “When will Miss Lownes be back?”

- I don’t know... in about an hour, what? – Bridget shrugged.

- We can go to the forest! – Bonnie shouted. “Bridges, please agree!” I've wanted to do this for so long, but Miss Lownes won't allow it, you know! She may never leave again, but there is no one here at all... Well, Bridges!

“I actually don’t mind,” Bridget said hesitantly, straightening a strand of copper-red hair. - But who will look after the horses?

- Helen! – Bonnie had a ready answer. - She will agree! I’ll run and persuade her, and you saddle the horses! Lightning for me!

“Okay,” Bridget nodded. Bonnie stormed off.

Both girls have been training at Lowns Women's Equestrian School since the beginning of the summer. Miss Lownes was the director of this school and also a coach. They had, or rather, had another coach - Lisa, but she was sick at that moment. Indeed, the moment for the long-awaited horseback ride through the forest was wonderful. Miss Lownes went to town on business, several other girls went with her, and only three girls remained in the stable: Bridget, Bonnie and Miss Lownes’s favorite, Helen.

Bridget had already saddled two horses when a beaming Bonnie returned.

- Order! - she screamed. – Bore Helen agreed to look after the horses! True, at first she also wanted to go with us - can you imagine? – but I reminded her that Miss Lownes had instructed her to keep order and she agreed. You know...

“Let’s go,” Bridget interrupted her friend’s chatter, tying the straps of her helmet. Bonnie climbed onto the horse, put on her helmet and they rode towards the forest...

Lowns Ladies Equestrian School, 2.25pm same day.

Emma Lownes stopped her car, got out and headed towards the gate, over which hung a sign: "Lownes Ladies' Equestrian School." She opened the gate, then got into the car again, drove inside, parked the car, got out, and closed the gate. She did all this mechanically, thinking about how the day went in the stable, where three girls remained without her - Bridget, Bonnie and Helen. “Helen is a smart and skillful girl, she took good care of everything,” Emma reassured herself, walking towards the stable. Suddenly Helen ran out to meet her, looking terrible: her hair was disheveled, her sweater was torn, horror was written all over her face.

- Helen! What's happened? – Emma asked her anxiously. The girl clung to her, trembling and sobbing, and raised her face, wet with tears, to Emma:

- Miss Lownes! There was a monster in the stable... it killed two horses!

Pushing the girl away from her, Emma rushed to the stable. The doors of one of the stalls were open. The woman looked in and recoiled, covering her mouth with her hands in horror. Two horses lay in a pool of their own blood...

Lowns Women's Equestrian School. 20:30 the same day.

"Introduction to the case, says Connor Doyle. We came to Lowns Girls' Equestrian School at the request of local police, concerned strange circumstances the death of two horses. The only witness, Helen Bennett, a student at this school, claims to have seen a strange creature at the crime scene. End of recording," Connor clicked the button on the recorder and put it in his pocket. Lindsay walked up to him.

-Have you seen dead horses yet? – she asked.

“No, I didn’t have time,” Connor shook his head.

“Come on,” she shivered chillily. - The sight is not very pleasant.

They crossed the crowded courtyard and entered the stables. Connor headed towards the stalls, and Lindsay remained on the threshold. A few seconds later, a slightly paler Doyle approached her:

“Yes, it’s not very nice,” he said, touching the knot of his tie, as if he wanted to loosen it. -Where is Anton?

“I’m here,” Anton approached them. “I examined the wounds on the throat of each horse.” I can’t say anything definite yet, but it looks like they were inflicted by the claws of some animal. This creature has three claws on each paw... and they are very sharp.

“I see,” Doyle nodded. “Lindsay, find the principal of this school, Miss Lownes.” We need to talk to her.

Lindsay nodded and left the stables. Connor stood motionless for a second, and then walked up to one of the people walking around the corpses of horses.

– Yes... There are no deviations in the environment. “All the indicators are normal,” said Peter, showing the display of his device.

He walked to the corner of the stall and stood there.

-What is it here? – Connor asked, following him. Peter shrugged, and suddenly bent down sharply. When he straightened up, there was something red in his hands. Connor took a closer look. It was a tuft of wool.

- Miss Lownes? – Lindsay approached a tall, thin young woman with pleasant features and blond hair scattered over her shoulders, dressed in a beige suit.

“Yes, it’s me,” the woman nodded and extended her hand to Lindsay. – Emma Lownes.

Her handshake was quite strong. Lindsay looked at her sympathetically.

- I understand it’s hard for you now...

“My horses...” Emma Lownes said sadly. – I treat all my horses like children... It's so terrible.

“I understand,” Lindsay nodded. – When I was nine years old, my cat was hit by a car. It was terrible! To this day, just remembering this makes me sad.

Emma looked at her gratefully.

– I’m glad that you understood me... Who, who could kill them so cruelly? Who did they bother?

“We're trying to find out.” “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions,” Lindsay said.

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Current page: 1 (book has 22 pages total) [available reading passage: 15 pages]

Curtis Jobling
Rise of the Wolf

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet or corporate networks, for private or public use without the written permission of the copyright owner.

Part I
Autumn, Cold Coast

Chapter I
Parting words

Drew knew the predator was nearby.

Reaching out with his lips to the blades of grass growing under the hitching post. Drew stood on the roof of an old rickety barn in which tools and other belongings were stored, rummaging around the golden meadow in search of some important sign unknown to him.

“Get off the roof and help your brother,” the father shouted. “We need to load the cart before the rain comes.”

“But, Dad, there’s something wrong here,” Drew responded.

“Either you come down, or I myself will climb up and throw you off,” the father warned, glancing briefly at his son.

Drew looked around the field again with narrowed eyes, and then reluctantly jumped down into the muddy, rain-sodden farm yard.

“You are ready to come up with anything to avoid hard work,” muttered his father, throwing another bag onto Trent’s back.

Drew strained to lift a rough canvas bag, placing it on the back of Trent, who had descended from the cart, and their father went to the barn to fill bags with the remaining grain that needed to be taken to market in the neighboring town of Tuckboro.

Tall, broad-shouldered, blond and blue-eyed, Trent was an exact copy his father, Mac Ferran. Drew was his complete opposite - short, thin, with a mop of thick brown hair that fell over his face with the delicate features he inherited from his mother. Although the twin brothers were sixteen years old and already on the threshold of maturity, it was clear to anyone at first glance which of them “ate more porridge in childhood.” At the same time, despite their external dissimilarity, Drew and Trent were as close as brothers can be.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Trent said, heaving the sack onto the cart. “He just wants to leave as quickly as possible to get to the market.”

Trent dumped the sack he had brought onto the cart, while Drew dragged the next one to the cart. Trent always trusted Drew implicitly whenever they left the house together - if his brother said something was wrong, nine times out of ten it was.

– What’s wrong there, do you think? – Trent asked.

Before answering, Drew took another look around the field surrounding the Ferran farm.

- I can not say exactly. Wild cat? Or dogs? Or maybe a wolf? – he suggested.

– It’s dark and so close to the farm? You're crazy, Drew. Wild dogs- maybe, but for a wolf?

Drew knew he wasn't crazy. Trent, of course, was strong, healthy, a natural rider, but he knew too little about the wild. Drew, unlike his brother, turned out to be a born tracker and had the gift of subtly feeling and understanding this very nature and its inhabitants. When Drew first went to the fields with his father as a boy, he learned to herd sheep with amazing ease. Drew understood animals perfectly, knew how to get along with them and find mutual language. He always unmistakably recognized the close presence of any animal, from the smallest field mouse to a huge - fortunately rare in these parts - bear, learning about this by the reaction of other animals or the barely noticeable traces left by them.

But today he had a strange feeling. Drew felt that there was someone nearby, and that someone was watching him on the sly, but it was impossible to understand who it was. Drew knew it might seem strange, but he could clearly smell the scent of a predator in the air. Drew's ability to sense danger has more than once provided invaluable assistance to his family and helped save livestock from danger. Today, despite the fact that the day turned out to be windy, Drew could smell the subtle scent of a stranger. This predator was large, he was hiding somewhere nearby, and Drew could not find a place for himself because he could not only track down this stranger, but even understand what kind of animal it was.

– Do you think this is the same beast from yesterday? – Trent asked.

This is exactly what Drew assumed. IN last days sheep behaved unusually during night grazing.

They didn’t look like themselves, and Drew himself was overcome by some vague but bad forebodings. Usually the sheep readily obeyed his commands, but in recent days they had become more and more uncontrollable. True, the full moon was approaching, and on such days not only animals behave strangely - Drew himself also experienced some kind of vague anxiety and anxiety. He had an unpleasant feeling, as if some predator was stalking him in his own yard.

Yesterday, towards the end of the night's grazing, Drew corralled most sheep, after which he began to collect the remaining ones that had gone further from the house. Finally, only one last ram remained, having climbed to the very edge of a sheer cliff hanging high above the coast. The Ferran farm was located on a rocky cape jutting out from the Cold Coast into the White Sea. Drew found a ram on the edge of a cliff - the animal was shaking with fear.

The ram trembled, beat the ground with its hooves, threw back its head with its eyes bulging in horror. Drew raised his hands - this should have calmed the animal, but this time the effect was exactly the opposite. The ram shook his head, greedily swallowing salty air with his open mouth, and backed away. He took a step, two, the pebbles rustled as they flew down, and then, looking wildly at Drew, the ram fell down and disappeared over the edge of the cliff.

Drew ran to the place where the animal stood, grabbed the rocky edge of the cliff with fingers white from exertion and, bending over, looked down. From a forty-meter height, he saw a ram - motionless, crashed to death on sharp coastal stones.

Drew rose to his feet and looked around to make sure he was alone. In the moonlight the guy didn’t see anyone, but at the same time he couldn’t shake the feeling that the animal that had scared the ram to death was still somewhere nearby. Drew ran headlong towards the house, not stopping for a second, and only caught his breath after he slammed the front door behind him. And now, on this rainy morning, Drew experienced the same nightly anxiety. Tonight you will need to stay as close to the house as possible with the sheep and keep an eye on them.

- Drew! – the father called out, pointing to the remaining bags piled at the open gate of the barn. - Come on, pull them up. I want to get to Tuckboro before dark, boy.

Drew lazily trudged towards the barn, but, catching his father’s angry gaze, he quickened his pace.

Drew's mother, Tilly, came out onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Be gentle with him, Mac,” she said to her husband as she approached and straightened a lock of hair that had fallen on his forehead, soaked with sweat. “He probably hasn’t recovered from yesterday yet.”

- Didn’t leave? – Mac asked skeptically. “However, it’s not him, but I who will have to fork out for a new ram.” If I hang around here until dark, everyone else will buy up all the decent ones.

He looked at Drew, who was dragging the last two bags to the cart, and shouted:

“If you tear the bags, I’ll deduct it from your salary, buddy!”

Tilly bit her lip. Her maternal instinct told her to rush to the boy's defense, but that was hardly wise. Mac is already in a bad mood, and if she stood up for Drew, it would deteriorate even more.

Drew stopped, throwing one of the bags over his shoulder, and looked back at his parents standing on the porch. The father shook his finger at him, and the mother shook her head sadly. Then she said a few words sharply to her husband and, annoyed, disappeared into the house. The father looked after her, shook his head in puzzlement and followed his wife. Drew trudged toward the cart.

- Did you have a fight again? Trent asked, stacking the last of the bags and tying them securely to the cart with thick rope.

Drew nodded, guessing that his parents had quarreled. They constantly quarreled over him. Drew had long suspected that his father and mother were hiding something, but he just couldn’t figure out what it was.

Undoubtedly, family life was brewing big changes- after all, Trent will leave very soon native home to join the army. Not without scandals, but Trent still achieved his goal - permission to become a military man, which he had dreamed of since childhood. Father with early years taught his sons to wield weapons, passing on to them his own experience acquired in ancient times. Under the old king, Mac Ferran served in the Wolf Guard, and there was hardly a corner of the entire continent of Lyssia that he had not visited. But a lot has changed since then, and if Trent manages to fulfill his dream, he will serve the new king, Leopold the Lion, who is not at all similar in character to his father. After the death of the old king, a lot changed in this part of the Seven Lands - Leopold ruled very harshly, and difficult times came for many residents of Lyssia.

Their father grumbled that the new Lion Guard had become a pale shadow of its former self and had become nothing more than fanned out former glory a gang of tax collectors. Be that as it may, Mac Ferran considered it his fatherly duty to teach his sons to stand up for themselves, so both brothers were good with a sword.

Although Drew could become a skilled warrior, he had no desire to accompany his brother to Highcliffe to join the Lion Guard. His home was a farm, and he did not at all want, like many young people, to “see the world.” He knew that his mother really liked his tendency to be a homebody, and she was glad that her boy would always be near. Drew suspected that his father was disappointed in him, but they never had a conversation about this topic. In general, it seemed to Drew that his father had given up on him a long time ago - if a son lacking ambition wanted to spend his whole life on this farm, then so be it. In addition, Mac Ferran often said that on the farm one more pair of hands would never be superfluous, so Drew would be good for something. Coming from Mac Ferran, such a remark could be considered something of a compliment.

The large gray shire was pulling on his harness, impatiently pawing the ground with his hooves - it was clear that he was impatient to set off. Finally, he threw his head back and even took a couple of powerful steps forward, causing the cart to shake, causing Trent to roll off the sacks and onto the back edge of the cart.

- Whoa, Amos, stop! – Drew shouted, slamming his palm on the edge of the cart. The horse calmed down and backed away slightly, nodding his head as if asking to be excused.

“He wants to move,” Drew said, looking at the gathering rain clouds. “And I have to say, I don’t blame him for that.”

Trent jumped off the cart and went into the house. Drew followed behind to say goodbye.

The brothers found their parents in the kitchen, where they stood with their arms around each other.

“Well, okay,” said the father. - I think we can go. Trent, grab the basket from the table, it's our lunch.

Trent took the basket and walked to the front door, behind which he could see the cart waiting for him and his father. The brothers always took turns accompanying their father to the market. Situated about ten kilometers from the farm, the town of Tuckboro was the closest “center of civilization” to them - not at all that far if you ride on horseback along the coastal road that winds along the edge of Dyrewood Forest. Another road passed over the bay along the top of the cliff. Of course, the journey took much longer on a heavily loaded cart than on horseback. In the summer, a trip to Tuckboro with its shops, eateries and other attractions was always a bright event, adding variety to the monotony of life on the farm. However, with the arrival of autumn, this journey became much less pleasant. For some reason, pouring rain with a piercing wind always fell on market day, as if deliberately trying to spoil the mood of a person who was hoping to have a glass of ale and maybe even flirt with a pretty girl.

Mother was clearing the remaining bowls from the table after breakfast. Drew took the heavy raincoat off the hanger and carried it to his father, who was waiting near the door.

“We’ll try to get back before dark, but it depends on our luck with the road and the weather,” said the father, buttoning the copper buttons of his raincoat up to his chin. – Today, perhaps, try to herd the sheep closer to home. After yesterday and all that stuff, okay?

Drew nodded in agreement. At this time, the mother said goodbye to Trent. A light rain began to fall.

- Try not to lose a single sheep again. And look after your mother,” the father added when Tilly walked away a little.

Then he patted his thigh, making sure his hunting knife was still there. Drew handed his father his powerful bow, and then went to get a quiver of arrows lying under the stairs. It must be said that Mac Ferran rarely resorted to using a knife and bow while traveling, especially in last years. It used to be, when the brothers were still just kids, the coastal road was swarming with bandits - that’s when bows and blades were considered necessary ammunition for every traveler. But later, local farmers and merchants jointly organized self-defense units, which quickly dealt with the robbers. Some were killed on the spot, others were tried and then hanged in Takboro, the rest simply fled in search of safer places for their fishing. Now the main danger that could be encountered on the road was a boar, a large wild cat or a wolf. But the retired guardsman firmly adhered to his old habit always take a weapon with you.

Mac Ferran stepped out the door, followed by Trent, with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and his hood pulled down to his eyebrows, out into the fine, tedious rain.

They climbed onto the cart, and Drew ran out after them to give his father the forgotten quiver. Amos neighed joyfully, moving his legs impatiently. Drew extended his open palm to pat the horse's muzzle, but he suddenly pulled back, arched his neck unnaturally and snored nervously. Amos was clearly uncomfortable, and Drew wondered if the horse was feeling the same nervous, tense atmosphere that he was feeling.

- But! - Mac Ferran shouted, snapping the reins in his hands.

The old horse moved forward slowly, pulling the heavily loaded cart behind him. Drew continued to stand a little to the side, watching the large spinning wheels cut ruts in the wet clay. The drizzling rain gradually turned into downpour, thunder rumbled in the sky, and the cart blurred and disappeared behind a veil of water.

Chapter 2
A storm is coming

The hatchet hovered in the air for a moment, the light of the lit lamp reflected on its blade. Flashing like lightning, the hatchet fell down and with a dry crack similar to a bolt of thunder, it broke the log placed on the butt in two. Drew hung the hatchet on a hook nailed to the wall of the barn, collected chopped logs from the floor and, taking down the lamp hanging from the ceiling beam, headed back into the house through the cold rain.

After his father and Trent left, the farm became very sad. The storm did not subside, the glass in the windows rattled, the shutters slammed, the rain mercilessly lashed, and the wind howled menacingly. The entire yard turned into a huge mud swamp. Above the roar of the wind, Drew could hear the bleating of sheep coming from the pen behind the barn, where he himself had driven them that evening.

Drew secretly hoped that his misunderstandings with animals were behind him, and was very puzzled when he discovered that the curse hanging over his head had not gone away. When he drove the sheep out to graze in the meadow, they still behaved capriciously and unpredictably. It was hard to believe that these were the same sheep that a week earlier, at the first call, willingly ran to Drew. Seven days ago they were completely different, but with the appearance of an invisible predator they became nervous and uncontrollable. At first, Drew tried to flatter the sheep, persuading them to come out to graze for an hour near the house, but, not achieving his goal, he gradually began to lose control of himself and began to shout at the sheep, which he had never done before. The sheep, in turn, did not want to follow his commands - this was also the first time this had happened to them. All this time, Drew listened and watched warily, trying to find the slightest clue that could explain what was happening, but in vain. Now he had no doubt that this stranger - whoever he turned out to be - should be very much feared.

Spending the day alone with his gloomy thoughts did not improve Drew's mood - it was as gloomy as ever. The unknown danger that sowed panic among the sheep also had an impact on Drew himself - he felt restless, anxious, and even refused dinner, which had never happened to him. Pushing the door open with his elbow, Drew entered the hallway with an armful of firewood, shook off his wet raincoat from his shoulders, kicked off his boots and barefoot, shivering from the cold, hurried into the living room, where his mother sat in a chair in front of the dying fireplace, knitting in her hands. Drew threw a handful of kindling into the fireplace, placed a couple of logs on the dying coals, and then curled up at his mother's feet, his open palms extended toward the fire.

- How are you feeling, son? - asked the mother, putting down her knitting needles and a skein of wool.

She leaned down, gently ran her hand through Drew's damp hair, and then placed her palm against his forehead, checking his temperature. Drew knew he had it high.

“Not bad, Mom,” he lied, fighting the cramps in his stomach. Drew looked up at the mantelpiece, where an antique brass carriage clock hung under his father's Wolfshead Guardsword. It was almost half past ten in the evening - by this time father and Trent usually returned home. Drew assumed they were delayed due to bad weather.

Standing up and stretching, he forced a smile, it was the best thing he could do for his mother.

- Do you want some tea, ma? Drew asked as he headed into the kitchen. Hot tea is the only thing his stomach can hold right now.

“With pleasure,” his mother said after him. Drew filled the kettle with water and placed it on the big old stove. If his brother clearly followed in his father’s footsteps, then Drew was like his mother in everything, having adopted her calm, peaceful disposition and easy-going character. He always believed that his mother had lost a lot in her youth when she entered the court service as a scullery maid at Highcliffe. If circumstances had been different, with her sharp mind and resourcefulness, she could have become a very educated person.

Leaving the kettle on the fire, Drew returned to the living room and sat cross-legged on the rug by the fireplace.

- Will you have dinner? – the mother asked carefully.

- No, I don’t feel like eating at all, Ma. Sorry,” he replied, remembering how much time she spent at the stove preparing dinner. He wanted only one thing - to go to his bedroom and lie on the bed, leaving his mother to have dinner alone.

Drew knew that kitchen table covered for everyone, including his father's, Trent's, and his own.

“There’s no need for an apology, dear,” said the mother. “I understand what it’s like when you feel sick.”

She looked at Drew carefully, as if reading his thoughts.

“I hope nothing else worries you.” “She patted her son on the shoulder soothingly. “I know you didn’t want to lose the ram.”

Drew nodded. He was really haunted by that incident, but he wasn’t the only one. Drew spent the whole day trying to figure out why the argument broke out between his parents, but his mother knew how to skillfully evade his questions. But although she never said anything, Drew nevertheless managed to understand something.

The argument between father and mother did not seem to have broken out because of yesterday's incident. Of course, the father was very annoyed at the loss of the breeding ram, but from the mother’s evasive answers it clearly followed that Drew had not done anything wrong, and he believed her. She could remain silent when necessary, but she would never lie to her sons. No, the reason for the quarrel that broke out between the parents was different. The clue lay in the strange behavior of the sheep, but that was all Drew could figure out. If a little earlier his father had dismissed Drew’s assumptions, now he himself was surprised to notice that he thought something was wrong.

Drew was brought out of his reverie by the rapid drumming of raindrops on the glass - it seemed that at any moment the glass could shatter into pieces. Picking up another log, he threw it into the fireplace with the others.

The flames shot up high - the fire in the fireplace was burning hot, the wood was crackling, hissing, and shooting sparks. Drew walked to the large bay window. Through the sound of the rain, he heard the sheep bleating in the pen. Shouldn't you go check them out? Through the storm clouds one could see the blurred, full disk of the Moon, illuminating the farm yard with its ghostly light.

Suddenly, Drew felt a new attack of fever, stronger than ever. His head began to spin, and in order not to fall, he grabbed the heavy curtain with a trembling hand, squeezing it so that his fingers turned white. Drew's breathing became hoarse and uneven, and streams of sweat rolled down his face, flooding his eyes. Drew ran his hand over his face, and the sleeve was immediately wet with sweat, sticking to his skin. What kind of illness happened to him?

Drew looked up at Luna, trying to focus his gaze, trying to clear his head of the painful sensations that had spread to his entire body. Drew's skin broke out in goosebumps, his whole body itched as if it were on fire. An attack of nausea came over me - my stomach clenched, ready to throw out the breakfast Drew had eaten this morning. The world began to rotate faster and faster around an axis, the base of which was the dazzling white point of the Moon.

Focus on the Moon!

Drew's body began to calm down, the pain leaving him as quickly as it came. The skin became cold, the nausea went away. What was wrong with him? The rain outside began to subside, becoming light, almost soothing. The sheep fell silent in their fold. Drew released his grip on the curtains, brought his hand to his dry throat and massaged it lightly.

The calm that enveloped Drew was somehow unnatural, depriving him of strength.

“Are you okay, Drew?” – asked the mother, getting up from her chair.

“Not really,” he replied. – I feel sick. I think it's because of the sheep. I try not to think about it, but I just can’t.

The mother stood next to him, chewed her lip, wiggled her eyebrows, and stroked Drew’s cheek.

“Ma,” Drew asked, taking a deep breath. - There's something wrong with me. What exactly?

- Nothing, my dear. Absolutely nothing.

The mother's face became so sad, as if it had instantly aged.

“I know there's something you never told me, Mom,” Drew said and continued when she tried to protest, “Please don't deny it.” I saw you talking to your father. You are hiding something from me. I know this is true, and listen to me until the end. I need to express this. I just want you to know that I believe you. Whatever is bothering you or Dad, I know you are doing the right thing. And I hope that I can somehow cope with this misfortune, whatever it may be.

Drew was surprised to see tears flow from his mother's eyes at his words.

“Oh, Drew,” the mother said barely audibly, smiling and sobbing. “Always so smart, so sensitive.” You have no idea what your words mean to me. Please believe me that there are no parents in the world who would love their child as much as your father and I love you.

Drew leaned back slightly and thought with some displeasure that his mother was skillfully protecting his father in this way.

In response, the mother laughed and hugged Drew.

“I know I didn’t mean to, silly, I know I didn’t mean to.”

She hugged her son even tighter. The storm subsided, the thunder was no longer heard, even the rain stopped. The whole world fell into silence.

“Don’t try to be like Trent,” his mother added, barely audible. “The time will come when my father and I will need to tell you a lot.” But there is one thing you should know by now... You are not like your brother.

Drew raised his eyebrows in surprise, trying unsuccessfully to understand what was behind his mother’s strange words. At that moment, the kettle began to boil in the kitchen, it whistled - at first the sound was quiet and low, but then quickly began to gain strength and pitch. The hairs on the back of Drew's neck stood on end. The mother had not finished speaking yet.

- You another.

Drew wanted to know as much as possible, but barely had time to open his mouth when the small glass panels that made up the bay window suddenly turned into a hail of flying fragments, and the window frame cracked and collapsed into the room.

Curtis Jobling

Rise of the Wolf

Autumn, Cold Coast

Parting words

Drew knew the predator was nearby.

He looked around the barley field, across which dappled shadows ran and the ears swayed in time with the storm clouds passing above them. Behind Drew, his father and his twin brother continued to load the cart, lifting onto it the sacks of grain carried on heavily bent backs along the attached boards. A gray heavy Shire horse was already harnessed to the cart, its lips reaching out to the blades of grass growing under the hitching post. Drew stood on the roof of an old rickety barn in which tools and other belongings were stored, rummaging around the golden meadow in search of some important sign unknown to him.

“Get off the roof and help your brother,” the father shouted. “We need to load the cart before the rain comes.”

“Either you come down, or I myself will climb up and throw you off,” the father warned, glancing briefly at his son.

Drew looked around the field again with narrowed eyes, and then reluctantly jumped down into the muddy, rain-sodden farm yard.

“You are ready to come up with anything to avoid hard work,” muttered his father, throwing another bag onto Trent’s back.

Tall, broad-shouldered, blond and blue-eyed, Trent was the spitting image of his father, Mac Ferran. Drew was his complete opposite - short, thin, with a mop of thick brown hair that fell over his face with the delicate features he inherited from his mother. Although the twin brothers were sixteen years old and already on the threshold of maturity, it was clear to anyone at first glance which of them “ate more porridge in childhood.” At the same time, despite their external dissimilarity, Drew and Trent were as close as brothers can be.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Trent said, heaving the sack onto the cart. “He just wants to leave as quickly as possible to get to the market.”

– What’s wrong there, do you think? – Trent asked.

Before answering, Drew took another look around the field surrounding the Ferran farm.

- I can not say exactly. Wild cat? Or dogs? Or maybe a wolf? – he suggested.

– It’s dark and so close to the farm? You're crazy, Drew. Wild dogs - maybe, but what about a wolf?

Drew knew he wasn't crazy. Trent, of course, was strong, healthy, a natural rider, but he knew too little about the wild. Drew, unlike his brother, turned out to be a born tracker and had the gift of subtly feeling and understanding this very nature and its inhabitants. When Drew first went to the fields with his father as a boy, he learned to herd sheep with amazing ease. Drew understood animals perfectly, knew how to get along with them and find a common language. He always unmistakably recognized the close presence of any animal, from the smallest field mouse to a huge - fortunately rare in these parts - bear, learning about this by the reaction of other animals or the barely noticeable traces left by them.

– Do you think this is the same beast from yesterday? – Trent asked.

This is exactly what Drew assumed. In recent days, sheep have been behaving unusually while grazing at night.

Yesterday, at the end of the night grazing, Drew had driven most of the sheep into the pen, and then began to collect the remaining ones that had wandered further from the house. Finally, only one last ram remained, having climbed to the very edge of a sheer cliff hanging high above the coast. The Ferran farm was located on a rocky cape jutting out from the Cold Coast into the White Sea. Drew found a ram on the edge of a cliff - the animal was shaking with fear.

- Drew! – the father called out, pointing to the remaining bags piled at the open gate of the barn. - Come on, pull them up. I want to get to Tuckboro before dark, boy.

Drew lazily trudged towards the barn, but, catching his father’s angry gaze, he quickened his pace.

Drew's mother, Tilly, came out onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron.

He looked at Drew, who was dragging the last two bags to the cart, and shouted:

“If you tear the bags, I’ll deduct it from your salary, buddy!”

Tilly bit her lip. Her maternal instinct told her to rush to the boy's defense, but that was hardly wise. Mac is already in a bad mood, and if she stood up for Drew, it would deteriorate even more.

- Did you have a fight again? Trent asked, stacking the last of the bags and tying them securely to the cart with thick rope.

Undoubtedly, big changes were brewing in the life of the family - after all, Trent would very soon leave his home to join the army. Not without scandals, but Trent still achieved his goal - permission to become a military man, which he had dreamed of since childhood. From an early age, the father taught his sons to use weapons, passing on to them his own experience acquired in ancient times. Under the old king, Mac Ferran served in the Wolf Guard, and there was hardly a corner of the entire continent of Lyssia that he had not visited. But a lot has changed since then, and if Trent manages to fulfill his dream, he will serve the new king, Leopold the Lion, who is not at all similar in character to his father. After the death of the old king, a lot changed in this part of the Seven Lands - Leopold ruled very harshly, and difficult times came for many residents of Lyssia.

Their father grumbled that the new Lion Guard had become a pale shadow of its former self, little more than a ragtag bunch of tax collectors. Be that as it may, Mac Ferran considered it his fatherly duty to teach his sons to stand up for themselves, so both brothers were good with a sword.