Black Wolf by Dave Gross

Author:Dave Gross
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Epic, Magic, Fantasy Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Fiction, Fantasy, Forgotten realms (Imaginary place), General, Sembia (Imaginary place), Good and evil
ISBN: 9780786942831
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 2007-08-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Black Blood

Summer, 1371 DR

Darrow did not escape the People of the Black Blood. He had run less than five miles from the lodge before the wolves dragged him to the ground. In the panic that seized him upon first seeing his pursuers, he dropped his useless sword and begged for his life. His screams for mercy did nothing to save him from the ripping claws of the werewolves. Nor did his blubbering pleas stop the hungry mouths from feasting on his body. Only as his lifeblood seeped into the soft ground of the Arch Wood did salvation arrive.

It came in the form of a silver wolf. The three-legged beast chased the other predators from the kill, then sat beside Darrow's dying body and looked down into his face. As Barrow looked up at the big wolf, it shifted back into the form of Rusk, the Huntmaster.

"The Hunt is over," he declared. Then with a chant to Malar, he pressed his burning hands on Barrow's gaping wounds and sealed them. He cast spell after spell, until at last Darrow could breathe.

"Why?" Darrow whispered "Why did you save me?" Rusk chuckled deep in his chest. "Because I have use for you."

* * * * *

During his first month among the People of the Black Blood, Darrow was everyone's servant. He fetched wood and water, cleared the fanged circle, and scraped the hides of deer and boars for crude tanning. If someone told him to do a task, he made himself useful.

At night he huddled in a corner of the lodge while most of the pack roamed their territory. A simple smoke hole served as a chimney for the fire pit, which was flanked by two rows of rough-hewn timbers supporting the sod roof. Various pack members had carved their names or marks in the wood over the years. Others with some talent had engraved scenes of humans and wolves hunting together. One depicted a passionate embrace between a dire wolf and a woman. Darrow found the image at once revolting and compelling.

The Huntmaster's inner sanctum was divided from the rest by an old tapestry depicting scenes of wolves and humans hunting and living together as an antlered god held his cloak to form the night sky above them. Even when Rusk was away, Darrow did not dare part the fabric to peer inside.

When the werewolves returned to sleep away the daylight, Darrow went outside to perform his chores alone. He hated the smell of the lodge when the pack was there. The smoke stung his eyes, and the odor of so many dirty bodies reminded him of his father's pigsty. Even as a boy he knew he wanted nothing to do with farm life, and this was far worse. He was living among monsters.

Soon he learned that he had become one of them.

After his first transformation, Darrow was sick for days. He remembered little of what occurred those three nights, but the days were full of exhausted cramps and bloody retching. No one tended to him in his misery, not even Rusk, who had saved his life.

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