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Sequel to The Interlopers-More English Work |
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“Wolves!”
“No, that cannot be,” Georg cried. “You must be mistaken. Perhaps you’re seeing things,” he offered, the words of a man refusing to accept the truth. To believe that the time of his passing was nigh.
“No, I am not. I know what a wolf looks like, and those, Georg, are wolves,” Ulrich replied grimly.
“At lest we’ll die fast,” He added.
“We will die as nourishment for wild dogs, hopelessly pinned under this here birch tree. I would rather my death be a valiant one. Something men and women will tell stories about.”
Ulrich laughed, “You think that the poaching of what little game there is on this land will help you do that, my dear neighbour?”
Georg turned his head to look at him, as hard as it was for him to see. If his eyes hadn’t been covered in his own precious blood, Ulrich thought he might have been glaring.
“This land is rightfully mine Ulrich, and you know it!” Georg shouted angrily.
“Come now, let’s not ruin the peace we’ve made between us tonight, all because wolves have found us easy for the taking.” Ulrich glanced at the wolves.
Even at this distance, and in the dark, it wasn’t hard to see the intent to kill and make a meal of them in the eyes of these beasts. It wasn’t hard to see into their eyes and spot the malice that these creatures harboured in their hearts; the same kind of malice that he once harboured in his own heart, the same impulse to kill.
“Georg, I think we should pray; beg the Lords forgiveness so that when we die, we don’t spend all of eternity burning in the pits of hell,” Ulrich said.
“I refuse to believe that I will die this night!” Georg shouted. He began to struggle hopelessly once more, most likely doing more harm to himself than good.
Ulrich heard the snapping of twigs and soft padded footsteps come towards the two of them. The pack of wolves had now surrounded them. The growls that followed only reassured him that, sadly, his demise was at hand.
The wind picked up again, carrying with it, the growls, howls, and any other sound the wolves made. Georg continued his struggling, vainly trying to free himself.
“Georg, stop it!” Ulrich shouted.
“I will not!” he shouted back.
Ulrich wanted to smack some sense into the man. They were as good as dead, why couldn’t he see that? He looked around as the wolves closed in, one particularly close to Georg.
“Georg! Georg, stop it!”
The wolf crouched down into a ready position. It was then that Ulrich knew it was all over or maybe it was when the wolf pounced on Georg. When he heard Georg’s agonized cry before it to, was carried away by the wind.
“Georg!” Ulrich stared in horror. The wolf was savagely attacking Georg’s throat. He could feel flecks of warm liquid all over his face.
He became angry; how dare these vile creatures impede their efforts of peace. How dare they kill Georg! With his only free arm, he reached for his rifle, which was just within his reach.
Fingers numb from the cold wind that now blew; closed around the rifles barrel. He pulled it to himself, trying to hold it properly so he could fire it, but he was having no such luck.
Another wolf pounced, this time at him. Powerful jaws bit into his arm, through muscle, down to the bone. He shouted in pain, his grip loosening, the gun slipping out of his hand.
When he was sure the wolf would tear off his arm, and let the rest of his pack have at the remainder of his body, seven gun shots, one after the other, rang out above the wind.
Two of the wolves fell, dead, including the one that had had a vicious hold on his arm. The others ran; their prey had been saved by fellow men.
“Ulrich,” one of them shouted, “is that you!” Relief flooded Ulrich, relaxing every tense and sore muscle in his battered body.
“It is James!” he called.
His dear brother knelt down beside him, blocking his view of Georg’s lifeless body.
“Are you all right?” he asked, searching for any more injuries besides his arms and legs.
“Georg is dead, “ a voice said. He recognized it as his cousin Faibian.
“Good, it’s one less we have to worry about,” James said.
“No,” Ulrich said, “it isn’t good.”
“Why not brother?” James asked.
“I will tell you as soon as you get this tree off of us,” he said.
Before they moved the tree, James freed his brother’s arm from the tangle of branches. Afterwards the seven of them half rolled, half lifted the tree off of them.
“Now,” James said, after sending one man to get a horse drawn buggy, “tell us why it’s not good that Znaeym is dead?”
“James, Georg and I made peace while both of us laid trapped under that tree. We will no longer fight with the Znaeym family. Not over this land, nor anything else, “Ulrich explained, “Is that clear? Do you all understand and agree with that?” he asked. Each man nodded.
Ulrich winced, as James continued his gentle examination.
“Good.”
“What about the other Znaeym’s?” Faibian asked.
“We will tell them and then we will give Georg a proper burial… on this land-…” “What!” James interrupted.
“We will bury him on this land, and we will tell his family he died valiantly.”
“Ulrich,” both James and Faibian said in unison.
“That is what we will do, understand?” Both nodded once more.
When the horse drawn cart arrived, they gently lifted Georg’s body into the back of the cart, and then they lifted Ulrich up as well. James stayed in the back with his brother while the others ran ahead of the cart.
As they trotted back to their home, the wind stopped, the clouds disappeared, and the sky grew pink as dawn approached. It made the Carpathian Mountains look like nothing more than shadows.
 Mistress_Gigi · Wed Jun 21, 2006 @ 08:56pm · 0 Comments |
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