The Iron Wolf

Chapter Three

The BadLands in the day looked serene. Still and untouched, the jagged trees rose unhindered to reach for the cloudless skies. Shamblers who walked in the day were easy to avoid, in truth a single one was not to be feared. It was the hordes who prowled the forest that were the true dangers of the BadLands.

            The Iron Wolf walked with a gentle pace through the trees, the head of her infamous pelt down to let the soft breeze stir her hair. The noise of human clamor grew loud as the trees thinned, well-worn paths traced their ways though the forest as the edge of the BadLands gave way to small, sprawling meadow littered with human occupancy. Stretching only a few acres, tents and campfires decorated the grass, wavering lines of smoke rising above the trees to be swept away by the wind.

            The Iron Wolf approached with confidence, few but her pack dared to camp so close to the BadLands. Men huddled around the fires, busying sharpening knives or fletching arrows, a smattering of women among them. Most looked up as their leader came stalking back from her stroll through the BadLands. Some simply nodded, others raising a hand and an occasional spoken word greeted her, all she returned with a simple nod. They were loyal to her, and in this small valley surrounded by the darkness that was the BadLands, they had a moment of peace. 

            A man came trotting up to her, his height likening him to a giant rather than a man. The wolf pelt that hung from his shoulders was dwarfed by his size.

            "Lo, Wolf." he greeted her, his voice booming in a deep baritone that still shook the Iron Wolf's chest whenever she heard him speak.

            "Elias." the Iron Wolf greeting her second in command with a dip of her head. He was a gentle giant in times such as these, peaceful, but in the throes of a hunt, he was as vicious as the wolf he wore.

            "Back from the BadLands," the man said with a teasing smile, his humor as big as the man. "We weren't quite sure if you would sleep among the dead tonight or with your own living kind."

            The Iron Wolf shook her head. "Among the living tonight my friend, the Shamblers move slow and the hordes prowl in the heart of the BadLands at this time of the month."

            "And what of the horde you gathered but half a fortnight ago? What of them?" Elias questioned, his eyes narrowed with worry. He was one of the few who kept her in check in her rage. He had good reason to, his lover traveled and hunted with the Pack.

            "Gone, they were no more than twenty who were lured by my blood. The Shamblers served their purpose and with the ...meat gone, the horde fractured quickly enough."

            "Good, then you will have a clear woods to travel through." Elias pulled the Iron Wolf out of view between two tents. "One of our spies sent this, it arrived but this morning." He handed her a small scroll, the paper weather beaten. "We are lucky the bird found us so quickly."

            The Iron Wolf unrolled the small piece of paper, holding the faded ink to the sun as she tried to read the message. 

            "I advise that we leave, no matter how well you know the BadLands, we are losing men to the Shamblers. They will expect you to lead us into the wildwoods, it is our hunting ground." Elias watched her try to discern the message. "Let us go and haunt one of the border villages for a few weeks, allow the men to sleep without fear of dead men to come and slay them in their sleep. We could look for new recruits, we have but thirty odd wolves left of the Pack..." Elias continued on in his plans.
             The sunlight dragged the words into candor, showing the message of the faded ink. The Iron Wolf read it with narrow eyes, her lips drawing back into a snarl at the message. 'THE MIRROR IS HUNTING'.