Helena

  The family resumed their formation and marched forward. The path was uneven and wet from the rain of yesterday night. The bushes and trees drew close as they progressed; their thick roots protruded from the earth, as though they were trying to break from their entombment, and their leaves covered the family with a dark mantle that made the path somber and desolate. This time, Helena was careful where she put her feet, not wanting a repeat of last time. After walking about a mile, the trees began to spread apart, the ground became dry and flat, and the ceiling of leaves above thinned out. Gracious moonlight poured on the path.

  Ahead, Helena could see the glade her grandfather had mentioned.

  “Wait for my signal,” Eric said, raising a hand. He hid behind a tree and watched the glade. The others did the same, choosing trees and bushes to hide and watch.

  On the glade stood the braskar, surrounded by wolves. The beast was larger than the average bull, but with shorter and thicker legs. Farmers saw them as the larger and more dangerous version of the wild hog, though not as equally problematic, for they liked to keep themselves within the woods and the terrains near the mountains. It was not the first time Helena had seen one. On rare occasions, a pack of them would wander near the family’s lands, probably drawn by the free food in the vegetable fields. The Hunter family had to act quickly and expelled them back to the forest, while giving them a good scare, killing one if necessary, otherwise they would come back again.

  The wolves looked smaller and lighter than the braskar, but they were still larger than the dogs back at the manor. People called them Drag-wolves, a breed of wolves larger than their southern counterparts. They were infamously known as the favorite pet of the Redmawns. When redmawn hunters raided a village, they used drag-wolves to search and drag out the people hiding in their homes, then they were chopped and cooked in large bonfires in the middle of the settlement.

  It was a common tragedy around the world for villages and small towns to be completely devoured by the redmawns and their pets. But not anymore. The world had moved on, and humans were wiser and stronger than ever before.

  Helena counted six wolves: three faced the braskar, boxing it in a triangle, while two more stood behind, looking. The last wolf, an old one, spotted the family hiding in the bushes and came to meet them. He stopped before them and growled, warning them not to interfere with the hunt.

  “Ha! Dad, look at this maggot over there trying to flank us,” Natalia said, looking at the bushes to her right. “For some reason, this one makes me mad.”

  Helena followed her aunt's gaze and found a black wolf hiding behind the bushes—its blue eyes were staring at them.

  “Victor, keep an eye on it,” Eric ordered.

  “Aye.”

  The braskar raised its head and blared a long, ear-ripping shriek. Helena winced and quickly covered her ears. She saw the wolves halting their advance, stunned by the scream, but then they began to growl in response, louder and louder—the scream had only made them angrier.

  “This is the annoying part of taking down one of these,” Natalia said as she put small pieces of cotton in her ears. “It’s worse than a crying pig. You two do the same, or you’ll get a torn eardrum.”

  Helena and Victor nodded. They took pieces of cotton from their pockets and stuffed them into their ears. It felt uncomfortable, and she couldn’t hear well, but it was better than being deaf. Having some cotton at hand was part of their tools when exploring the forest.

  As the wolves got closer to the braskar, the beast swung its head in a semicircle, using its long tusks as a weapon. Two wolves dodged the attack, but one was grazed and rolled over the grass, wailing. It got up and ran away, breaking the triangle formation.

  Seeing this chance, the braskar charged, using its immense body as a ram, tusks ripping the ground.

  The wolves quickly jumped away from it, giving the beast a wide berth that it would not miss.

  The baskar took off, leaving its hunters in the dust. A concert of furious growls broke out.

  “It’s fleeing towards our lands,” Natalia shouted.

  Eric didn’t waste time and dashed into the glade, ignoring the wolf before him, who wisely decided not to block his way. Natalia rushed after her father.

  Eric and Natalia stopped before the braskar, blocking its escape. The beast raised its body and smacked the ground with force. Yet Eric and Natalia remained still, longsword drawn, left feet forward, legs spread apart, body lowered, and standing diagonally towards the beast. The tip of their swords pointed at the braskar's face.

  “Come on, Ale, let’s go!” Victor shouted and sprang ahead, leaving her behind.

  Wake up, Helena! She yelled to herself and went after her brother.

  Victor took a position behind Eric and Natalia, pointing his spear at the braskar. Helena stood a few steps behind everyone, as she wasn’t as good at fighting as they were.

  The braskar shrieked and pounded the ground, warning the family to stay away.

  Erick slid towards the beast, slowly, like a dancer flirting with his companion, measuring his approach and touch.

  Loud wails and howls broke out all about, halting Eric’s approach.

  It was the wolves. They became mad and started to run and jump around with frenzy, wailing louder and louder, like frail puppies crying to Mama for milk. The head of the pack, the old wolf, came running and began biting, growling, and pushing the others, restoring order to the chaos and halting the cries. He then drove the pack further away from the family and the braskar.

  “Ha! Do you see that, Dad? They’re mad ‘cause we stole their prey.” Natalia laughed.

  “Natalia, go over there and keep an eye on the wolves,” Eric said. “Victor, you and I will take care of the braskar. Wait for my signal to thrust the spear into his heart.”

  “Yes, sir,” Victor said.

  Natalia walked towards the wolves while giving a wide berth to the braskar. The beast watched her with red eyes but remained still. “By Helcred’s wrath!” She shouted behind the braskar. “Look at the size of those balls. No wonder the mutts couldn’t take him down.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “A pack leader, sir?” Victor asked.

  “Doubt it. A pack leader is never alone. Look at him. He seems old. Maybe one day he was one, but not anymore.”

  “Is he an outcast?” Helena asked.

  Eric shook his head. “No, the braskars are smarter. When a leader is deposed, he’s not expelled from the pack. The new leader allows him to stay around so he can protect the young. The wolves probably saw the pack and aimed for the cubs, but this one stood in their way.”

  “So, he sacrificed himself to protect the children?” Helena asked. The braskar looked exhausted and hurt. She could only guess how long it had been fighting the wolves.

  “Aye, he did just that,” Eric said.

  “Hello, my dear playmates,” Natalia said as she faced the wolves. “You’ve made the grave mistake of bringing your prey to our backyard. Now, come, my pretty wolves. Something tells me winter will be hard this year, so I need a new coat. Who’s the fortunate one?” She sneered at them.

  The wolves growled, snarled, and howled in a concert of fury. Some approached her, baring fangs as they jumped and thrashed about, but not close enough to be a threat. Natalia stood there, relaxed, silently staring with sword in hand.

  The braskar turned, probably interested in the scandal behind it, and stared at Natalia’s back. Helena could guess what the beast was thinking: it saw that open and defenseless back and felt tempted to stomp and mince it to death.

  “Hey, focus on me!” Eric yelled. He seemed to have also noticed the beast's intention. He started to swing his sword in the air and then rested it on his right shoulder. “Come at me, or should I make the first move?”

  “Let’s move back,” Victor said to Helena, giving Eric a wide space to fight.

  The braskar growled, as if it had understood Eric’s taunt. It slammed its hooves against the ground, raised its head to the sky, and blared another long, ear-ripping shriek. The beast then took a low pose, belly kissing the ground, muscles tensing, and tusks aiming at Eric’s body.

  Eric took a sidelong wide stance and pointed the longsword at the braskar. He made small circles with the tip of his sword, tempting the beast to come at him.

  Then, with a bang, the braskar lurched onward.

  Helena gulped as she saw the beast’s massive body sprinting towards them. In her mind, she saw how the tusks tore apart her thin body.

  The grass and earth broke under the beast's run, and its sharp tusks flew straight at Eric, but they hit air, missing their target by inches.

  Eric had stepped aside, dodging the attack with a dancer’s finesse. His sword glowed white as he slashed the baskar on its open side. Blood sprang into the air.

  The beast screamed and began to thrash his head about, hoping to hit something, but Eric was already behind him.

  Three slashes fell in quick succession—blood poured over the dirt. The beast screamed and began to roll on the ground.

  Eric jumped away from the danger. He then began to calmly examine his sword as he waited for the beast to stop thrashing around. He made the fight seem like a common, boring affair, as though he were killing chickens and was watching how the headless bodies jolted on the ground.

  The trashing stopped, and the braskar flipped over on his stomach. Eric saw his chance and lunged with superhuman speed. The sword glowed white as he cleaved off a front leg.

  The braskar fell, and blood flushed from his leg like a rivulet. The beast released another ear-ripping shriek.

  Erick didn’t waste time and cleaved another leg, then another, and another. He quickly circled around his opponent and decimated it.

  The braskar tried to stand, but its mangled body prevented it. The beast shrieked again, but this time soft and wet, as if it was begging to be left alone. Eric drew near the beast's face and stared down at its eyes: the braskar gave up.

  “Victor, the spear!” He yelled.

  Helena thought it was now safe and approached. The beast’s body was bloodied and crammed with wounds and old scars. It breathed slowly, and Helena could feel the tremor of its growls. She got near the braskar’s face and noticed its wet and red eyes that still had some hate in them. One of the eyes was completely pale, and the other was half white.

  “He was turning blind,” Helena whispered.

  “He’s a very old warrior,” Eric said as he placed a hand on the beast's body. “You can rest now.”

  The braskar released a long and melancholic wail. It was so tired and hurt that it didn’t even try to shake Eric’s hand off.

  Helena stared into the beast's brown eyes, and the beast into hers. She saw fear and fatigue in them. The hate was gone.

  Victor took a position and drove the spear into the beast’s heart. The braskar gasped. Helena saw how life began to wane from its eyes. The braskar never looked away from her, and she from it. They looked at each other until the end.

  Helena wondered what the braskar was seeing in its last moments. Maybe it saw its pack. His family. He saw them at home, saw them marching behind him into the feet of the mountains, where the forest would never reach. There they could run, and eat, and play, and be together all they wanted under a blue, open sky until night came around and it was time to return home. He would let the young ride on his shoulders, for he knew they were tired and needed to sleep. Maybe he saw his life with his family until something cold pierced his chest and took him away from them. He felt the pain, excruciating as he had never felt, and then numbness and fatigue filled his being.

  But, maybe, he did not care, because he was watching his family running safely under the sun, far away from the pain and cold of here.

  And, maybe, that was all that mattered to him, that he knew they were safe, in his dying breath.

  “Helena, what’s wrong?” Eric asked.

  “W-what’s wrong with what?”

  “Your eyes are red, lassie. Are you crying?”

  Helena wiped her eyes and shook her head. “It’s nothing. I... I was just thinking about the braskar. Do you think he thought of his family, Grandpa? Do you think he thought of his children as he was dying?”

  Eric frowned. He looked at the braskar’s body, then at Helena. “Child, are you… Yeah, I’m sure of it.” He smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes.

  “Hey! What do we do with them?” Natalia called out to them. Her voice was getting drowned out by the wolves' howls.

  Eric walked towards Natalia. Victor and Helena followed his steps.

  The wolves were frenetic, howling, growling, and flaring their fangs. They looked at the dead braskar and at its killers with such hate that if the old wolf was not there, biting and growling at his own pack to stay back, they would have tried their luck with Natalia.

  “They’re angry ‘cause we stole their meal,” Eric said calmly. He took a rag from a pocket and began to clean his sword from the braskar’s blood. “It’s unfair to kill ‘em.”

  Natalia sneered. “True, and who’s to guard our backyard if we vanquish our guarding dogs? Our fields will get overrun with braskars, or any other beast from the forest.”

  More wolves started to appear, summoned by the howls and cries, though they chose to remain far behind, watching. With the newcomers, Helena counted sixteen wolves in the glade.

  “Strange…” Eric said, looking at the wolves. “I think I recognize this pack, but I don’t see their leader.”

  “I thought their chief was the old black one over there,” Natalia said, pointing at the black wolf that kept his pack in line.

  “No, that one is not. The real chief looked a lot fiercer than him… I guess he died. The Old Man was very old.”

  “Old Man? You gave it a name?” Natalia asked.

  “Of course. I liked that one,” Eric said, smiling. “That could explain the cub over there. It’s taking his spot.”

  The old black wolf broke from the pack and stepped forward. His blue eyes stared at Eric. Man and beast watched each other for a while; a silent agreement was occurring between the two leaders.

  Eric glanced behind the wolf, where the newcomers were watching. Older wolves were among them, but none moved. They all watched silently, like ghosts of ancestors watching over their living descendants. It seemed that they all agreed to leave the old black wolf in charge of the negotiations.

  He was now the leader of the family.

  Eric chuckled. He scratched his beard and called Victor. “Lad, I need you to go back and bring Michael here.”