'Kill them all.'
Zerah awoke before the dawn, and groaned. A small stone was digging into her hip and her shoulders ached abominably.
Another groan followed her attempt to sit up, and she swore bitterly.
‘That's not nice,' said little Esther.
'Neither is the rheumatics,' grunted Zerah. 'How long you been awake, child?'
'Ever since the howling,' said Esther, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. There's lots of wolves about.'
Zerah had heard nothing. Pushing herself to her feet she stretched, then walked to the buckskin, lifting her water canteen from the saddle pommel. After a long drink she returned to the children and the dead fire.
'Wolves won't attack us,' she said. 'Now you see if you can find a spark in them ashes, and I'll cook us up some breakfast.'
With a yawn she stepped outside. The air was fresh and cool, and Zerah could smell the dew on the leaves and the musky scents of the forest. The sky was lightening in the east, and early bird-song greeted her as she walked under the trees. Despite the rheumatic pain in her back and shoulders, she felt good, glad to be alive.
It's the youngsters, she thought; they make everything seem fresh and new again. Zerah hadn't realised how much she missed company until the stranger had arrived. It saddened her that he hadn't come back.
Jon was a good man, and quiet company. But the young ones were a joy, even when they squabbled. It brought back memories of her own children, back in the days of her youth, when the sky was more blue and the future was a golden mystery yet to be discovered.
Zeb had been a handsome man, with a ready wit that endeared him to everyone. And he was kind and loving. Everybody liked Zeb, because Zeb liked everybody. 'Never knew a man could see so much good in people,' she said, aloud.
When he died she remembered Padlock coming home. He put his arms around her and said, 'You know, Ma, there's no one in this world that he would ever need to say sorry to.'
Seemed like that was a good epitaph for a kind man.
Folks had come from far and wide for the funeral, and that pleased Zerah. But after he died the visitors had stopped coming. I never was the popular one, she thought. Old Zerah with her sharp tongue and her sharper ways.
She glanced up at the sky. 'Sometimes wonder what you saw in me, Zeb,' she said.
Turning to go back to the cave, she saw a paw-print in the soft earth. Kneeling, she ran her hand over it, opening her fingers to measure the span. It was enormous. Not a bear, though it was the right size. Nor yet a lion. Her mouth was dry as she stood. It was a wolf print — but larger than any she had ever seen.
Zerah hurried back to the cave. 'What's for breakfast?' asked Oz. 'Esther's got the fire going.'
'I think we'll wait until we reach town,' said Zerah. 'I think we should move on.'
'But I'm hungry,' complained Esther. 'Really starving!'
Zerah chuckled. Good God, woman, she thought, why the panic? You have a fire and a good pistol. 'All right,' she agreed. 'We'll eat first, and then travel.'
Walking to the back of the cave, she approached the buckskin. The horse was trembling, its ears tucked flat against its skull. 'It's only me, girl,' said Zerah. 'Calm down, now.' As she spoke Esther screamed, and Zerah spun round.
In the mouth of the cave stood a monstrosity. Eight feet tall, with huge shoulders and long arms, the fingers ending in curved talons, the beast was covered with silver-grey fur. Its massive head was lowered, its tawny eyes fixed on the two children cowering by the small fire. The buckskin reared and whinnied, catching the creature's attention.
Zerah Wheeler drew her old pistol, and wondered whether a bullet could bring the giant Wolver down.
'You stay calm, now, kids,' she said, her voice steady. Cocking the pistol she walked forward. 'I don't know if you can understand me,' she said, keeping her eyes on the beast, 'but this here pistol has six charges. And I hit what I god damn aim at. So back off and we'll all be happier.'
The beast howled, the sound reverberating like thunder in the cave. Zerah glanced at the fire. Beside it lay a thick branch festooned with long-dead leaves. Keeping the pistol steady, she reached down with her left hand and lifted the branch, touching the leaves to the little blaze. They caught instantly, flames searing out. Zerah stood and walked towards the creature. 'Back off, you son of a bitch!' she said.
The beast backed up — then sprang forward. Zerah did not give an inch, but thrusting the flames into its face she shot it in the throat. The huge Wolver went down and rolled. Zerah jumped to the mouth of the cave and shot it again as it tried to stand.
'Jesus wept!' she whispered.
Outside the cave were more of the beasts. 'Kids,' she called, 'I want you to climb that chimney at the back. I want you to do it now.'
Still holding the branch, she backed into the cave. A creature sprang at her, but calmly she shot it in the chest. Another ran from the right; a shot came from the back of the cave, shearing half the beast's head away. Zerah glanced back to see that Oz had her rifle in his hands and was standing his ground.
Pride flared in her then, but her voice was sharp and commanding. 'Get up that God damn chimney!' she ordered.
The beasts were advancing cautiously. With only three shells left, Zerah knew she could not hold them all
— nor would she have time to turn and climb out of their reach. 'Are you climbing?' she called, not daring to glance back.
'Yes, Frey,' she heard Oz shout, his voice echoing from within the chimney.
'Good boy.'
Suddenly the buckskin bolted past her, scattering the beasts as it made a dash for the transient freedom of the forest. In that moment Zerah turned and sprinted for the chimney. Slamming the pistol in her holster, she grabbed a thin ledge of rock and levered herself up, her boots scrabbling on the stone.
Swiftly she climbed until she could see Oz just above her, helping Esther. It was narrow in the chimney, but there was just room for the children to squeeze up on to a wider ledge below the cliff-top.
Pain flashed through her foot. Zerah screamed, and felt herself being dragged down. Oz pushed the rifle over the edge, barrel down, and fired. Zerah dragged out her pistol and put two shots into the Wolver below. It fell, its talons tearing off Zerah's boot. Oz grabbed her, and with the boy's help she eased her skinny body through the gap. Blood was seeping from a wound in her ankle, and a six-inch talon was embedded in her calf. Zerah prised it loose. 'You are brave kids,' she said. 'By God, I'm proud of you!'
From the pocket of her coat Zerah took a folding knife and opened the blade. Tf you'd be so good as to give me your shirt, Oz, I'll make some bandages and try to stop this bleeding.'
'Yes, Frey,' he said, pulling off his coat and shirt. As she worked she told the boy to count the shells left in the rifle. It didn't take long: there were two.
'I still have the little gun you gave me,' said Oz.
She shook her head. 'That'll do you no good against these creatures. Still, the noise might frighten 'em, eh?' The boy forced a smile and nodded. Zerah bandaged her ankle and then delved into the pocket of her coat, producing a strip of dried beef. 'It's not much of a breakfast,' she said, 'but it will have to do.'
'I'm not hungry,' said Esther. 'Are we going to die?'
'You listen to me, child,' said Zerah. 'We're alive, and I aim for us to stay that way. Now let's climb out of here.'
'Is that wise, Frey?' asked Oz. 'They can't get us here.'
That's true, boy. But I don't think that strip of beef is going to hold us for the rest of our lives, do you?
Now we can't be more than six, maybe seven, miles from Pilgrim's Valley. We'll be safe there. I'll go first, you follow.'
Zerah forced herself to her feet and climbed towards the patch of blue some twenty feet above her.