Night Of The Wolf

The bell rang from the trees at 11:17, one clear note that shivered through the iron nails in Mara Ellison’s cabin walls.

She stood beside the woodpile with an axe in her hand, staring at the black line of spruce beyond the yard. Moonlight silvered the snow between the trunks, but nothing moved there. No branch stirred. No animal crossed the open ground.

Then the bell rang again.

Mara lowered the axe.

“Jonah?” she called.

The cabin window behind her glowed amber. Her brother’s shadow passed across it, broad-shouldered and slow. A moment later the door opened, spilling firelight over the porch.

“What is it?”

“The bells.”

Jonah looked toward the trees. “What bells?”

A third note floated out of the forest.

Mara watched his face. He did not flinch. He did not even turn his head.

“That,” she said.

“Wind.”

“There isn’t any wind.”

“Then a fox got into something.”

“Foxes don’t wear bells.”

Jonah stepped into the yard, pulling his coat closed. The cold had sharpened since sunset. It pinched through Mara’s gloves and made the axe handle slick against her palm.

“Come inside,” he said.

“I heard them last night.”

His expression changed, but only for an instant. “You heard something last night.”

“Three notes. From the north side.”

“And now?”

“East.”

Jonah glanced at the trees again. “You’ve been awake too long.”

Mara looked past him at the cabin door. The latch hung crooked where someone had forced it earlier that evening. A strip of splintered wood lay beneath the threshold. She had promised herself she would stay inside until dawn, with the rifle across her knees and the fire fed high.

Then the bells had begun.

Somewhere beyond the spruce, a wolf gave a low, broken howl. Another answered farther off. A third rose close enough that Mara felt the sound in her ribs.

Jonah’s hand went to the rifle leaning beside the door.

“That wasn’t a fox,” Mara said.

“No.”

“Did you hear it?”

He looked at her then. “I heard the wolf.”

“But not the bells.”

Jonah’s mouth tightened. “Mara, the north road is closed. The creek’s iced over, and the old trail is full of drifts. Whatever is out there, it can wait until morning.”

“By morning, someone else may be gone.”

The words fell between them.

Neither spoke of Elsie Venn, whose lantern had been found swinging from a dead pine two nights before. Neither spoke of the boot prints that began at her doorstep and ended in the middle of the road. The village had called it a wolf attack because the alternative had no name anyone wanted to say aloud.

Mara set the axe against the woodpile.

“I’m going to the treeline.”

Jonah moved in front of her. “No.”

“I’m finding where the bells are coming from.”

“No.”

“Then come with me.”

His eyes flicked toward the cabin. “Someone needs to stay here.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

The bell rang again, nearer now. Not east. Not north. Somewhere just beyond the first row of trees.

Mara felt the sound travel through the soles of her boots.

Jonah had heard nothing.

She stepped around him.

He caught her sleeve. “Mara.”

She looked down at his hand. “Let go.”

“You don’t know what you’re following.”

“That’s why I’m going.”

His grip tightened. “If those bells are real, they may be bait.”

“Then whoever set them knows we’re here.”

A howl rose behind the cabin.

Jonah released her.

Mara took the lantern from its hook beside the door. The flame inside it leaned sharply toward the forest, though the air in the yard remained still. She lifted the rifle from the porch and checked the chamber by touch.

Jonah swore under his breath. “Stay where I can see you.”

“I’ll try.”

“That wasn’t permission to run ahead.”

She crossed the yard before he could say more.

Snow creaked beneath her boots. The fence posts stood waist-high in the moonlight, each one capped with white. Beyond them, the first trees waited in a close, dark row. The lantern cast a weak circle over the snow, but the forest swallowed it after a few yards.

The bell rang.

Mara stopped.

This time the note came from directly ahead.

She pushed through the fence.

A spruce branch slapped her cheek. Cold needles scattered down the back of her collar. She lifted the lantern and searched the ground. There were tracks everywhere - wolf prints, narrow and deep, crossing one another in frantic loops. Some led into the woods. Others turned back toward the cabin.

Jonah came through the fence behind her.

“See?” Mara whispered.

He raised the rifle. “See what?”

She pointed at the tracks.

Jonah crouched and brushed snow from one print. “These are old.”

“They’re sharp.”

“Sharp doesn’t mean fresh.”

The bell sounded again from the left.

Mara swung toward it. The lantern flame jerked, stretching sideways. Between two spruce trunks, a pale glimmer moved low to the ground.

“There.”

Jonah grabbed her shoulder. “Wait.”

The glimmer vanished.

A howl broke from the right.

Then another from behind them.

Mara turned....