D.D. Ward is Writing

The howling continued to dog them that night. The next morning, Theresa searched around their camp. She pointed out lupine looking tracks in the mud. The tracks circled their camp. Amber shivered at how close the werewolves had come to them without being detected. “They could kill us at any time.” Amber said. Theresa shook her head, “No. But they want us to think that. They are toying with us, like a cat playing with a mouse. But the mouse still has teeth. And the cat may regret its play.” “What do we do?” “I will set traps for our pursuers.” Theresa used the daylight to set up her traps. She set up metal bear traps along the most likely avenues of approach. She hid the traps with brush and debris. And then she set more obvious deadfall traps made from gathered wood and leftover rope. Theresa finished. And then she went back and removed her tracks by brushing the forest floor with a cedar branch.  As the daylight faded, they surveyed Theresa’s work.  “Won’t they see the deadfa...

The sun rose on the first dawn of the fourth week since their attack, and the two women were already pushing through the woods.  “I need to do something about this dress.” Amber said, as the dress caught on yet another bush.  Theresa looked back. “I could teach you to gird your loins.” “Isn’t that something people say? They say it when they need to brace themselves for something bad.” “It comes from older cultures, before people started wearing trousers. It refers to a way of tying up a robe or dress so that one can walk and run. It’s not attractive, and your legs will be more exposed to getting scratched. But it will make walking through the brush easier.” “Is this what an adult should do?” Amber asked. “If you like. An adult would find a way to manage and make do under the circumstances.” “Then please show me. I want you to know that you can rely on me. I won’t slow us down.” “I’m your bodyguard, my lady. You can rely on me. It is not your job to be reliable.” “But I can. An...

Having made the choice to go off road, the going became difficult. Amber’s dress slowed her movement and Theresa had to blaze a trail with her broadsword. They pushed through heavy underbrush by day and camped by a large fire each night. The howls continued to follow them. But as night after night passed, their pursuers did not attack. “Why are they not attacking us?” Amber asked.  “I suspect they know we have been injured.”  “So?”  “So they may be waiting to see if we turn or if we die.” Amber shivered. She leaned against Theresa and sighed.  “You know, this could almost be romantic if not for the whole werewolves stalking us thing.” Theresa looked at Amber and then shook her head, “I’ve never had much interest in romance.” “But you must see my point,” Amber said, pouting, “Two people isolated and having to rely upon each other to survive. Novels are full of such circumstances.” “Do those circumstances typically include a monster hunter and her much younger charge?”...

They walked without incident for two weeks. On the first night Theresa built a makeshift lean-to from the scavenged cloth. And they shivered together beneath the likewise makeshift blankets night after night as they continued on their journey.  At the start of the third week, Theresa stopped Amber at a woodland crossroad.  “What is it?” Amber asked.  Theresa pointed at the mud. Amber looked at the mess of boot prints and wagon tracks, then shook her head. “What am I looking at?” She asked. “I have seen that boot print before. The one with the chip in the heel.” Amber looked again, “I’ll take your word for it. But so what? We’re on a road. I assume they are traveling in the same direction as we are.” “They’re not,” Theresa said. “They have crossed our trail twice, at this crossroads and the previous crossroads. The tracks have been fresh both times. They’re keeping pace with us. Watching us. I suspect they are hunting us.” Amber shivered, “Who are they?” Theresa shook her ...