The Wolves in the Woods

Interlude: The True Soldier Fights

The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.

— G.K. Chesterton

***

A mysterious stranger catches an interesting detail while out in Paris.

***

            Cool breezes brushed past the faces of people walking to and fro. Bags and various belongings in hand, with dancing snowflakes tickling their noses. A warm and pleasant aroma wafted up, embracing all around with heartfelt enthusiasm. People skittered about on their daily business. No one particularly minded who they saw or didn't see. They were too focused on their own inner worlds to pay much attention to anyone besides themselves.

Let alone a large man sitting by himself in a little corner café enjoying a light, midmorning meal. Complete with a copy of some pretentious human's work to pass the time. These people really needed a better outlet for these kinds of thoughts, the man thought. Because how, pray tell, was this in any way alright to publish to the masses? Was the author some sort of masochist or something? He wouldn't know, since the author had passed away at least two hundred years ago. Not that he had any interest in digging up memories of someone like that. Nor was he interested in sparking another conflict with a clear loser.

"Hmm..."

The large man stroked his goatee, contemplating what to read next. His half-empty teacup sat next to a small helping of plain vanilla madeleines. There weren't many desserts without chocolate, and these particular ones he had to ask for without the syrupy poison. But he had to admit the humans outdid themselves with these little things. Perhaps he could bring some back for his buddies once he was done here. They were perfect for on-the-go snacking.

Looking up toward the display case, the man's ears pricked up hearing the humans around him chattering and gossiping. It wasn't any different than what he'd heard in other places with a lot of humans. There was a lot of talk between friends about what their dating lives were like, whose husband was going where, and who was going to lose what job.

He'd long since grown jaded to the kind of slander humans threw at one another.

"... Eleanora got sacked, did you hear?" he heard some office ladies gossip two tables over.

"No way, really?" the other office lady gasped. He resisted the urge to huff. She sounded more like a teenager than an adult woman.

"Yeah," her companion replied. "She got caught yelling at someone..."

He found himself tuning out the rest of the conversation, completely disinterested in what was being discussed though he was curious. It was impolite to listen in on people's private affairs, after all.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. With practiced ease, he turned his head to glance better at who was sneaking around. Or perhaps, it was better to describe it as someone throwing a fit after not getting what they want. Something he saw all too often with the charge under his care. Heavy footsteps stomped nearby, followed by three disgruntled voices from what sounded like three teenage girls. The one throwing a tantrum suddenly stopped behind him, shouting something at the three girls.

"I thought you were supposed to find out the truth!" the loud one bellowed. At once, the other patrons at the café quieted down. The man resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Didn't they have anything better to do?

"We are," one of the other girls said. "But we don't accept sources from people like you." The man chuckled while the temper-tantrum girl sounded like she was choking on her spit.