Ghost Bear

In the darkness, through the trees and standing stones, Fixlla could see the wolfkin swaying and jerking rhythmically as they curlew-called in chorus. The sound was low as if not to carry far from the glade. The wolfkin circled a flat, dark stone in the centre of the stone circle. They had their backs to the ring of massive standing stones. There were eight of them, each standing over 12 feet tall. Weathered and beaten, they looked ancient, as if they commanded this space long before the structures of man had been raised and fallen again.

Around them, overgrown with forest, were the remnants of a stone forum. Paved areas, and wide walls broken apart by the power of tree roots and time. The party had come here after being invited by Alfred, the wolfkin’s undercover guardian. They followed the pack, leaving Backgammon’s Peak in the late afternoon. The wolfkin moved quickly through the forest and the party had arrived some time after the wolfkin. Fixlla looked for Alfred, he had not seen him since they parted two days ago. Patron and Wiz were somewhere near, concealed in the dark forest.

The full moon was low in the sky, rising behind clouds miles away. Fixlla looked at Rona Lona, who seemed preoccupied with the moon-lit edge of the distant clouds in the east. She had spoken of her night visions; a ghostly bear searching for her; how the visions were stronger when the moon was full. Fixlla felt on edge, like being caught in the open during a lightning storm.

Lupa, the young wolfkin leader, stepped onto the central stone, twisting and writhing, his baying quickening. He held a curved bone knife and placed its tip against his forearm. The moon crested the clouds and turned the scene to monochrome. Black shadows and shining surfaces. Fixlla heard Rona Lona pull a sudden breath. Lupa arched upwards and howled. Blood, black in the moonlight, gushed from his arm and splashed on the stone at his feet. The pack howled together, gyrating and leaping, lost in the frenzied dance.

“No, no, no,” muttered Rona Lona. Fixlla turned and saw a massive bear coming towards them through the trees. It didn't look solid. Although it moved through the forest as if it were real, Fixlla could see trees through its body. It worked its way towards them, never taking its gaze from Rona Lona, its fur silver-blue in the moonlight. Rona Lona stepped backwards, entering the clearing where the stone circle sat.

Fixlla notched an arrow and the bear began to run. A volley of arrows loosed from Patron, Wiz and Fixlla as the beast burst towards Rona Lona. She had backed up to a standing stone and set her spear. She groaned in fear as the ghost bear closed on her. Fixlla drew his sword and pulled his shield close. Rona Lona held against the furious charge, the bear's bone coloured claws tearing the armour on her shoulder, teeth snapping at her face as she thrust her spear upward.

As Fixlla stepped forward to strike a wild figure appeared, crouched on the top of the standing stone. Silhouetted in moonlight, a monstrous man-wolf with long arms and bright white fangs howled from the top of the stone and leaped onto the back of the bear, sinking its teeth into the neck of the creature. Both shimmered silver in the moonlight as they fought. Rona Lona stepped forward slicing with her spear and Fixlla joined the melee cutting and thrusting with his sword.

The bear was strong, but no match for the magic weapons of the party and wild energy of the man-wolf. It began to fade and reached for Rona Lona, its last breath shimmering blue and snaking towards her. Rona Lona scrabbled back into the dark shadow of the stone and fell still. The man-wolf leaped to the top of the stone and howled at the moon, deep gashes down its back and sides. The wolfkin, who had huddled together on the far side of the stone circle, whimpered and growled. Lupa lay with them, his cut arm held tight by the wolfkin shaman.

When Fixlla looked again the wolf-man had gone. Fixlla hoped he wasn’t too badly injured. He was sure it was Alfred, the clandestine protector and religious totem of the wolfkin. Rona Lona lay still in the shadow of the stone. He could see blood from the cut in her shoulder. Fixlla called a light in his palm and dimmed it so it would not distress the wolfkin. The wound looked superficial, it was bleeding but otherwise clean. Rona Lona looked very pale, her lips blue.

Fixlla scooped her up and brought her around to the inside of the stone circle. Fixlla thought she looked dead in the moonlight: limp with chalk skin and slightly parted silver lips. Patron bound Rona Lona’s shoulder.The woflkin came close and laid hands on her. The wolfkin shaman pulled Patron to Lupa’s side where he lay cradled by several young wolfkin. Lupa had lost a lot of blood, but was lucid. Patron set about binding Lupa’s arm. The wolfkin shaman bound over to Rona Lona’s side.

They spent the rest of the night inside the circle. Patron, Wiz and Fixlla sitting against an ancient stone, watching the dogs tend to themselves and to Rona Lona. The wolfkin shaman spent her time close to Rona Lona, singing and presenting a range of treasures to put on her skin or waft around her. A gemstone on Rona Lona’s lips, a crush of fresh herbs falling over her face, branches of a flowering bush beaten together above her prone body.

Before first light the wolfkin began to get restless. Lupa could walk unaided and the pack circled him, waiting for a lead. The wolfkin shaman looked up from Rona Lona, found Fixlla’s eye and held it. She then turned and followed the pack, which had somehow known it was time to leave. Rona Lona sighed and opened her eyes. She stretched, smarting at her shoulder and rolling to look at Patron, Wiz and Fixlla.

“That was weird”, she said.