Page 2 of Wolf's Bane
By the soft light of the ancient lanterns, Solenne tended to her father. Luis ran down the events of the evening. He and Godwin hadn’t even needed to track the bestial wolf. It waited for them beyond the estate’s gates, which showed a disturbing intelligence, in Solenne’s opinion.
She dreaded the turning of the solstice and equinox, when the nexus energies surged and monsters prowled the night. Everyone knew that. The Marechal family had hunted those monsters for generations, since humans first arrived on the planet. Their ancestors had been granted land near a nexus point, marked by strange stone circles crafted by an unknown intelligence, and a charter to protect the neighboring settlements.
Monster hunting, however, wasn’t lucrative, and equipment—all silver-tipped and plated—had to be replaced frequently. Their estate was marginal land and last year’s drought had been hard on the sheep herd. Thankfully, being close to the nexus point meant their land held unique plants and herbs. The tonics and remedies she made supplemented their income, and she feared that it would be the entirety of their income if lambing season or the wool harvest disappointed.
Whenever Godwin brought up their finances to the village council, they made noises about taking the charter away. Modest compensation came with the charter, yes, but it had not been adjusted in decades. The council made it very clear that the Marechals were expected to sustain themselves with their land.
The situation was endlessly frustrating. Sometimes Solenne wished the council would take the charter and let someone else worry about keeping the village safe from the nightmares that prowled the night.
The Marechal name still commanded respect, for what that was worth.
Solenne applied the last of the bandages. She sagged into a chair with exhaustion and gratefully accepted a mug of hot tea. Six years ago, she had been at the university in Founding, determined to pursue botany. She never imagined that’d still be in her father’s house, worrying about sheep shearing.
“We must clean it again in the morning and apply more paste,” she said.
“He will survive,” Luis said.
“If we avoid infection, yes. I won’t be happy if he spends less than a week in bed.”
“Which he won’t allow.”
“Probably not, but his two children will nag him until he relents,” she said. “It’s his eye that’s the problem.”
Luis nodded. The siblings did not need to say that a monster hunter with one eye was as good as dead. No depth perception meant he couldn’t fight, or at least win a fight.
“We’ll send for Dr. Webb in the morning.” She’d worry about how to pay for the doctor tomorrow. In the past, he accepted a trade of a tonic of poultice. If not, the house was large and full of useless decorations. She’d rather have her father alive and possibly blinded than silver-plated candelabras.
Colonel Chambers had attempted to add one of the Marechal’s many defunct weapons to his personal collection, but Godwin had always refused. Perhaps he could be pursued to part with a piece. Various plasma pulse rifles and pistols, even something called an EMP cannon, gathered dust. None were operational. Godwin probably wouldn’t even notice if one went missing and the ready money would fix a good number of problems, like the broken glass panes in the greenhouse.
Solenne pushed the thought away. Selling a weapon—even a broken, inoperable weapon—behind her father’s back would be wrong. Godwin noticed little, but she knew that if she suddenly had money to spend, he’d notice.
“Scarring is in a bad place. He’ll be stiff,” Luis observed. They both knew what that meant.
Godwin could not be injured. Farmer by day and monster hunter by night, no one else could pick up the mantle. Luis, while large for his age, had only graduated from boarding school months ago. He was too young and under trained. Tonight’s mishaps proved that.
In her youth, Solenne had trained in the family’s profession, but so much changed when Mama died. Her training ended with a fractured wrist and arm. Then Godwin packed her and Luis off to school.
Unconsciously, Solenne rubbed her left wrist.
She wondered if Godwin regretted, as the wolf nearly gutted him, sending his children away, ending her training and delaying Luis’. Another set of eyes, another blade or bow, could have prevented this.
A howl sounded in the distance. A dish shattered on the floor.
“Oh, my nerves,” Cook said, bending to retrieve the fragment.
“It’s my fault,” Luis said.
“No, it’s that beast’s fault.” She looked down at her father’s bandaged face. Unless the beast was exceptionally old, therefore strong, it would be inactive until the summer solstice. “We have some time to prepare. We need help.”
She had letters to write.
The doctor arrived shortlyafter dawn. The news wasn’t good, but not as bad as Solenne and Luis feared.
Godwin would live, but he would lose the use of his eye. They had to wait until the summer solstice to determine if he suffered the effects of the wolf’s bite. Until then, Solenne would keep the wound clean and pour wolfsbane tonic down her father’s throat. He’d drown in the stuff.
Heartened by the doctor’s prognosis, she pressed two silver coins into the man’s hands.
He pushed them back. “I will not accept your coin. Godwin Marechal has given more to this village than we can ever hope to repay.”
