A housewarming

A Housewarming

The sounds of nocturnal insects rose in riotous symphony. Above, a blanket of black velvet sported a myriad points of light. Off to the side of the road two wagons loomed in silent vigil over six sleeping forms gathered around a campfire, now smoldering.

He was traveling through a forest, leaping over fallen trees and exposed roots, walking over rotted leaves and parting the undergrowth. The forest was shrouded in night, starlight its only luminance, yet he was seeing the deeper shadows perfectly clear. The realization came to him suddenly and shockingly. He was not himself. He was some thing else. It was no small animal scurrying through the woods, but something huge and bent on carnage. Although in his vision his eyes did not wander from the path ahead, he knew he was not alone. Others followed him, as if he heard their breathing. He was leading a pack, headed in the direction of six people resting in a clearing by the roadside.

Brannin 'al Korah was instantly alert and bolted to a sitting position. He broke out in a cold sweat. His wife, lying under the blanket with him, jumped with a cry, looking at him wide-eyed. "What is it?"

He glanced at his three daughters, at the tall, young man that had accompanied him on business, and could not suppress a shiver.

"Something bad is coming." He grunted, donning black boots. "Get the girls up and no more questions for now." The look on his face accentuated his last words.

Brannin's wife moved quickly to awaken her daughters and begin packing. Brannin awakened the other male member of the group, Arvil Thorm, Beckoning him to follow quickly. Brannin dropped two lanterns by Arvil to light and went to one of the wagons where he reached for a woodcutter's ax, and a double-bladed battle-ax, a relic of his soldiering days. The woodcutter's ax he dropped next to Arvil. He sought out some good size sticks which he gave to his family except his youngest.

Here they would make a stand. Flight was out of the question. Traveling by wagon would be slow in the near dark and confrontation against the enemy with panicked horses while hitched to a wagon would be dangerous.

All watched Brannin silently, waiting. He looked at each of them and grimaced. They wanted an explanation. For an answer he moved away from the group and hefted his great battle-ax. The years had widened him around the middle and frosted his black hair with gray, he was still powerfully built, wearing a loose, light shirt and dark trousers.

For a moment he suffered from doubt. Gods! When was the last time he had one of his-visions. Years ago. Long before he married and raised a family. It was a part of his fighting days. He had never mentioned them to his wife or anyone else. But he had never doubted them then. He would not doubt this one now.

He froze. He was seeing himself coming up the road. Ahead he saw two points of light glowing to his left. He saw two wagons and several people, mostly women, gathered next to one of them. A man stood by himself near the road.

Brannin shook himself and ran back to the group. He ordered the women atop the second wagon, giving them the twin lanterns, and instructed the young man to stand at the rear. He stood on the right side of the wagon facing the road, glancing all around him, his eyes resting upon the darkness beyond the light from where he knew the predator was steadily approaching.

There were five of them, approaching abreast. The lamp light cast a silvery sheen upon their eyes as they approached silently. Only the youngest girl cried out, the rest holding their breaths as they stared at the huge figures. They were wolf-like but larger than any wolf in these parts, surely.