Chapter 45. Charmed Animal

nce he was asleep, Terrel Enteiri preferred to stay that way, at least until the rice wine and bean cakes wore off.  The alternative, of course, was a hang over.  Sadly, in the small hours before dawn, that is exactly what happened to him.  First there was a howl which set his nerves on edge but which, nevertheless, failed to rouse him.  Then there was a wet snuffling sensation around his face.  Because he was wearing his mask over his eyes to extend the illusion of darkness well into dawn, whatever it was failed to slobber over more than his brow.  The third item, which did actually cause him to sit up and take notice, was a low terrible growl and the voice of an imperial guard demanding to know if the wolf belonged to him.

What wolf might have been a favorite answer provided he had been among the land of the sober.  He was sadly still in the realm of the inebriated and his tongue was somehow disconnected from the rest of his body.

“Gnarf?” he moaned as the bright brass breast plate and red robes swam into view.  He slowly turned his head toward the mountain of white snarling fur that was parked near his head.  It was no ordinary dog, at least nothing like any of the mangy strays or pampered pets that dwelt in the great city’s mazy alleys or grand homes. Bone white and muscular, its eyes glinted with the cold blue glimmer of starlight and its long muzzle was graced with an impossible number of dagger sharp teeth.  Terrel’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it.

“Next time you bring your pet into the city, keep it under control!” the guard said angrily, barely concealing his own terror of the bristling creature.  His mission accomplished, the man marched away quickly with many a glance over his shoulder -- which left Terrel alone with the immense hound.

The trouble with being Terrel was that he was not a typical dirt-loving, tree-hugging ranger.  He had grown up within the city’s walls and knew more about street fighting than he did about wildlife.  Even so, he knew there was something distinctly unnatural about this beast.  Why it had chosen to come to him, the exactly wrong ranger, was beyond him.  In any event, he was not interested in animals.  They tended to make living conditions even less manageable.  Next thing he knew, he’d have fleas.

“What d’yo wan, mutt?” he mumbled, noting that the creature had stopped growling and posturing and was now regarding him with a steady, curious gaze.  It responded with several loud bone-jarring barks which were no doubt enhanced by Terrel’s state of inebriation.

“Ne’r mind, then.  Shu’up and lemme sleep.  I’ll deal wi’ yeh in th mornin’.”

Terrel promptly fell asleep again.  In the morning he woke up with a start, puzzling over the strange dream.  He pried open a crusted eye and focused for a moment until he discovered the mound of ivory fur curled protectively near his head. Oh gods, so he had not been dreaming after all.  Where had the creature come from and why had it decided to stay with him.  He rose slowly, his head heavy and mildly painful as he lifted it to survey the littered alley that had served as his bedroom that night.  He abandoned his nest of blankets and folded it up as quickly as his hangover allowed.  All the while, the pale wolf regarded him with intelligent blue eyes.  In the gray light of dawn, the creature was even bigger than he remembered it.  The wolf’s withers rose nearly even with his elbows and its pale bulk was as solid and potent as a mountain peak. 

“I didn’t ask for a pet,” Terrel grumbled, “and I don’t much like dogs.  You’d better not mess with my stuff.”

The wolf’s stomach rumbled audibly at those worlds and it licked its immense jaws with a large pink tongue.  Great, now he was a zookeeper.  Just what he needed.  He ignored the animal as he laced up and layered his intricate Luxon armor with its ornamentation of red coral and lustrous jade.  He shouldered his pack with a graceful shrug and ran a gloved hand through his oddly striped brown and gold hair.  Terrel looped a cord around his three most prized bows and slung them across his back while a fourth, an ornate short bow, was strung and ready for use, clutched in his right hand.

“Goodbye, Dog,” he said, turning to leave. 

To his chagrin, the animal followed him.

“Go away!” he shouted, stooping to collect a nugget of dirt from the cobbled street and hurling it at the creature.  It merely stepped gracefully aside and glowered at him with its fierce blue eyes.

Well fine.  It could follow him all day if it wanted.  Terrel needed a drink, a decent meal and a bath after last night’s revelry.  Straightening his intricate jade-studded mask, he glared darkly at the creature before moving on.  Most likely the beast would just go away if he ignored it.  It was late in the morning and he cut through the stinking slum in haste, eager for the safety of Song’s dumpling stand on the southern end of the Marketplace. 

Sadly, the Am Fah conspired against him.  Three of the villains leaped out of the shadows to confront Terrel as he pounded over the dirty cobbles.  The assassin among them appeared to be their ring leader and tossed his daggers with a menacing air of calm accompanied by an ugly grin that made no improvement upon his scarred face.  A ranger stood behind him, an arrow nocked and ready to fly, while a greasy mesmer snickered wheezily, his face concealed by a gleaming half-mask.

“Time to pay your dues, half-breed,” the assassin gloated, laughing.

In a blur of white, the wolf tore into them and they scattered like bowling pins.  Terrel looked on in shock as the mesmer shrieked beneath the deadly white mountain of fur and fangs.  Dumbstruck, the three of them could only watch as the kicking and struggling man was pounded against the grimy brick wall, leaving a bloody imprint, and then and cast aside like a damp rag as the wolf turned growling with blood-flecked jaws to find another foe.

At that point they stirred from shock.  The two Am Fah swore and cried out in alarm as the towering mound snarled toward them.  The assassin conveniently vanished into the shadows leaving his ranger friend to fend for himself.  A wicked grin lay beneath Terrel’s mask as he watched the wolf shred the screaming fool with the ease and grace of an accomplished predator.

When the wolf was done, it turned growling to face Terrel, its pale fur darkened with blood.  For a moment he feared he was to be next and he raised his bow, knowing it would do him little good against the demon dog.

“Nice wolf,” he murmured, sweating.  It sat on its haunches, regarding him mournfully.

“I suppose you can stay with me if you’d like.”

Oddly, the creature seemed to nod its head.  Perhaps he should take a break from the rice wine.