The fire crackled and popped an accompaniment to grandfather's gentle snore. The children circled their grandmother, watching her expectantly. She smiled at them sweetly and surrendered to their wishes.
    "Very well," she told them. "A story and then it's off to bed with you, right?"
    They nodded eagerly.
    "Alright." said grandmother. "What story would you like to hear?"
    "Something new!" blurted out Tyler. His cousins threw in their vote with a nod.
    "Something with fighting." said Mycoal. He was for anything with a good scrap in it.
    "I want a love story." Jessica said and received some disgusted looks from the boys. Nobody argued, though. Despite her size, Jessica had some very persuasive methods of getting her way.
    Shyly, Darien suggested that the story might have some magic in it. Everyone agreed that magic would be good.
    "I think I have one that you might like." Their grandmother said.
    "What's it called?" asked Mycoal.
    Grandmother shook her head, "I don't think it's got a name."
    "Well, what is it about?" Tyler wanted to know.
    "You'll just have to listen to the story." She told them and with that she started her tale.

    Once upon a time. . .

    there was a boy born who was the youngest of seven brothers. Other than the fact that he received an abnormal amount of hand-me-downs, the boy wasn't really any thing special.
    Then the boy grew up and began fathering sons of his own, and before long, there was another seventh. Now this was serious business, for as everyone knows, the seventh son of a seventh son will most certainly turn out to be some sort of wizard or sorcerer. Generally, small villages of the sort where he lived didn't like having those types around.
    So the father, who had grown tired of things mysteriously bursting into flame every time his infant son threw a tantrum, decided it would be best if the boy went to be with others of his kind. Hopefully, they would know how to control him. The child's mother had fought him tooth and nail over the whole business, but he had stood his ground. His mind was made up and there was no changing it.
    The father pulled himself up into his saddle, took the child from it's sobbing mother and rode off down the little country road. As he rode he would stop and ask other travelers if they had heard of any wizards or such in the area. If they didn't thrust the sign of the evil eye at him, they would tell him of a group of wizards that lived in a fortress deep within the mountains and warn him to stay away from there. He accepted their knowledge but ignored their warnings, following their directions up into the snow capped peaks.
    It was well into the darkest days of winter when the haggard father and his infant son rode up to the gates of the wizards castle. The sight of it's massive towers and huge stone walls almost made the man turn back, but he knew that this was not an option for him.
    He got down out of the saddle and waded through the snow to the castle's thick oak gates. He pounded his fists on them three times before there was any answer from inside.
    "Who goes there?" Boomed a voice from behind the door.
    "A weary traveler who has brought his wizard son to be with the rest of his kind."
    The little peephole slid open and a wrinkled eyeball was thrust up to it. "Wizard, eh?" came the voice that belonged to the eye. "He don't look like no wizard to me."
    The father removed the blanket wrapped around the child and set it's bare feet into the snow. The child screamed a blood-curdling scream and all the snow within a five foot circle suddenly melted.
    "Never shed's a tear, eh?"
    The father shook his head. "Ne'er a one."
    The eye-ball gave that a strong "Hrmph!" and the door was thrown open. A slightly bowed man who looked about two hundred years old, much too old to be running around answering doors anyway, stood behind the door.
    "Seventh son of a seventh son?" the old man asked.
    The father nodded in reply.
    "Should have known." muttered the old man as he half heartedly took the child from it's father.
    Seventh son's of seventh son's were always a real handful.

    Wind-blown clouds cast weird shadows across the snow covered ground, as the storm picked up handfuls of the white powder and turned them into minature tornadoes.
    A small cottage sat in the middle of the tempest blown field, looking almost too frail to withstand the force of the blows it was receiving at the hands of the storm.
    Inside the cottage a family huddled around their fire, thankful for it's warmth. There were four people in this family, the father, who was a thick, solid man named Edward, his pretty yet slightly plump wife Mary, and their two children, Skylar and William.
    Skylar was just shy of her fifteenth birthday and spent most of her waking hours daydreaming of princes and shining armor.
    William, their son of barely nine didn't daydream of princes but there was usually armor involved in his fantasies of world-wide conquest. His favorite times were when some traveler would come through with news of some far away war.
    The wind stirred again, giving the cottage a good shake. In the midst of it's howl came a sound that raised Edward's head.
    "Was that one of the sheep?" He asked, his face creased with worry.
    As if in answer the noise came again. The terrified bleating of one of their ewes. Edward grabbed his wool coat and a lantern as he raced for the door leading into the cellar. He closed the door securely behind him as he passed through it and shrugged into his jacket. It was thick and would keep him warm in the frigid cold outside. By the light of the lantern he made his way through the cellar to the corner where the tools were kept. From these he selected a heavy, three pronged pitch-fork that was used for moving hay.
    To the left there was staircase that led up to the doors linking the cellar with the outside. He climbed these and threw open the doors at the top. Bitterly cold wind struck him, numbing his face and hands. He ignored it and stumbled out into the snow.
    There was a sheep corral next to the cottage and it was here that the terrified bleating of the sheep was coming from. Edward came round the corner and was greeted by a savage snarl. A large wolf stood knee deep in the snow trying to pull the body of one of the sheep through the rails of the corral gate.
    It had no intention of losing it's kill, and warned Edward to keep his distance with a low growl. Swiftly moving shadows that were the other members of the wolf pack circled the two like hungry sharks. The winter had been very hard on the pack, and it hadn't had a solid meal in months. Usually they avoided humans but the gnawing in their bellies had forced them to new hunting grounds and the strong scent of mutton was more than they could resist.
    Edward understood that the wolf pack was probably at the end of their rope, but his family needed these sheep for food and clothing. He couldn't afford to lose any of them and if he let them get away with this one, they would be back for more.
    He thrust the pitch-fork at it threateningly, trying to drive it away from the carcass. It snarled and snapped at him and feinted left and right in the snow. He took another step toward it and jabbed at it's face. The wolf roared in frustration, realizing that it was going to lose it's kill.
    Edward raised the pitch-fork for another jab and felt a horrible tearing in his leg. His knees buckled and he fell on his hands and knees in the snow. The lantern flew from his hands and buried itself. A large, grey wolf had him by the leg and was shaking and thrashing it's head, tearing his flesh. He screamed in agony and swung his pitch-fork at it. The tines cut a deep groove in it's skull, spattering the snow with blood. The wolf yipped in pain and fell away from him.
    Hearing their companions plight, it's brothers rushed to it's rescue. One took a snap at his thigh, but Edward caught it under the jaw with the butt of his weapon. It fell away, kicking, and was quickly replaced by another. It was a lean white one and was intent on a chunk of Edward's side. He took the bite in the arm instead and delivered the wolf a powerful punch to the nose. He turned in time to see the sheep-killer jump for his throat.
    An instant before those massive jaws closed on his jugular, a thick, muscular arm snaked out and snatched the wolf out of mid-air. The giant body attached to the arm turned and tossed the wolf, sending it flailing across the snow.
    Edward scrambled to his feet and tried to get a glimpse of his savior. In the dim light he could see that it stood on two legs, but it was not human. He was given the impression of huge size and a hair-covered body.
    The beast caught one of the wolves by the scruff of it's neck and whacked it's head into the corral wall. The next he gave a firm slap as it jumped, dropping it into the snow, stunned.
    Five of the wolves attacked the beast at once and their combined weight dragged it down into the snow. More rushed into the fray. Frenzied rage became flesh and it scratched and clawed it's way out of the pile, roaring in anger. It turned and ran toward the surrounding forest at a ground-eating pace, the wolf pack at it's heels.
    Edward was left alone to catch his breath, hardly believing what had just happened. If it wasn't for the blood, the tracks in the snow and the dead sheep, it might have all been a bad dream. But then he tried to take a step and was quickly reminded of the wounds in his leg. It burned horribly and he could feel the warm flow of blood into his boot.
    When Mary saw his leg she immediately told him to remove his trousers and lay on the floor. He was much to tired to argue with her, so he did as he was told. She cleaned the wound with some foul smelling stuff that had been passed down to her from her mother and she ended up having to stick several stitches in the deeper gashes. When she had finished, she handed him a quilt and told the children that they could come back into the room.
    "Now what in God's name happened out there Edward?" She demanded.
    "I don't know Mary, and you shouldn't be takin' the Lord's name in vain, my love."
    She threatened to box his ears so he told her what had happened, as far as he understood it. The children sat in horrified silence as he told how the wolves had nearly killed him and shocked awe when they heard of his unnatural savior.
    "Must have been an angel." Mary told him.
    "I don't think angels have fur and claws, Mary."
    "Then you tell me what it was."
    "I don't know." he replied.
    Then he arose from the floor and announced that he was going to bed and suggested that every one else follow suit.
    And they did.

    Edward woke with the sun and it only had a ten minute head start on him when he stepped out into the open air. The wind had died down and the clouds were starting to thin out. The air still had a bite though, so he pulled his jacket closer around him.
    Mary had insisted on wrapping several layers of cloth around his bite marks and although two hundred horses couldn't pull the words out of him, he appreciated it. His leg was quite stiff and a bit painful to walk on. But he knew that there was no use in complaining when you got a job to do, so he just ignored the pain and went about his work. He walked around to the corral and started kicking through the snow in hopes of finding the pitchfork and the lantern he had lost the night before. The pitch-fork wasn't too hard to find because it's handle was still partially unburied, but the lantern seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. He had almost given up when his foot caught something and he detected the faint tinkle of glass. He pulled it out of the snow and cursed when he saw that the globe had been broken. That would cost him a pretty penny the next time he got into town.
    He decided that there was nothing to be done with it for the moment so he had best just put it into the cellar and go about getting rid of the dead sheep's carcass.
    He mumbled angrily at himself when he discovered that he had also left the cellar door open the whole night. He didn't feel that being attacked by wolves was any excuse for forgetfulness. A considerable amount of snow had blown it's way in and if he didn't keep the cellar dry he was risking a bad case of mold on the wool that they had sheared this year and the family couldn't afford to lose that money come market time this spring.
    He set down the lantern and pitch-fork and cut a slice in one of the sacks that they packed the precious fleece in. He rubbed a few wisp of the downy material between his thumb and index finger and decided that it wasn't ruined.
    Something in the pile of sacks moaned.
    Edward grunted in surprise and stumbled backwards. He searched for some weapon to defend himself and the closest thing he could find was a bailing hook. He grabbed it and held it a threatening manner.
    There was only quiet from the pile of wool.
    He cautiously reached down and grabbed one of the bags by it's top. He gave it a vigorous tug, dragging it with him as he backed up quickly. A naked boy lay beneath it, pale and shivering. His skin was criss-crossed with scratches and deep gashes. Gashes not unlike the ones on Edward's leg.
    The boy was no one that Edward recognized so he guessed that he must not have been from that area. He just stood there for a couple seconds, not altogether sure of what he ought to do. Finally, he stuttered out, "Are you all right, boy?"
    He felt a little bit stupid after saying that. The boy was naked and bleeding to death. He obviously was not all right. Edward forced himself to his senses and hollered to his wife up above to bring him a blanket.
    "Whatever for?!" she called down to him.
    "Just do it, Mary." he yelled back to her and added "Don't let the children come down here.
    When she heard that Mary realized that her husband was very serious and the boards creaked above his head as she ran to find a blanket for him. Edward leaned down so he could hear how the boy was breathing. The breaths were short and raspy but more importantly, they were there.
    The boy shivered, spasm like and muttered, "I am sorry, brothers."
    Edward ran a hand across the boy's head and told him that everything would be alright. He looked back at the door that led into the cottage, wondering what was keeping Mary. She would know what to do about this. One of his wives many talents seemed to be that she made sick people well. He never quite understood all of her little herbs, potions, and ointments, but only an idiot couldn't see that they worked.
    The door was thrown open and she came down the stairs carrying a blanket made, of course, from wool. She looked a little bewildered for a moment until she saw the boy, and then the mother in her took over and she got down to the business of caring for the hurt boy. She told Edward to pick him up and bring him upstairs and started in that direction herself. By the time that he had reached the base of the staircase she had already whipped the kids into shape and had them heating water and tearing sheets into bandages. In the midst of all this madness, it seemed that only Mary knew what was going on.
    Edward was instructed to lay the boy on their bed and then promptly told to get the heck out of the way. He had no problem with that, for he knew how his wife was in situations like this and figured that outside would be the safest place for him. He quickly sought the nearest exit.
    Mary got her bags of ointments and sat down on the bed next to the boy. Her best guess was that he was around fifteen or sixteen years old. Hopefully he would be strong enough to survive losing so much blood. She started cleaning wounds with warm water and rags, stitching the ones that needed it covering the rest with ointment of different kinds, depending on the nature of the wound.
    When she was done, she covered him up and tucked the blankets in around him. The boy looked very pale and she couldn't help worry for him.

    When Edward came back in several hours later, he found her in the kitchen working on a pot of soup. He gave her a kiss and asked how the boy was. She told him that he had been asleep the last time she checked on him. Edward opened the bedroom door and stuck his head in. The boys eyes were open.
    "Mary, he's awake."
    She came over and pushed him out of her way. Edward followed her into the room, staying by the wall so as not to get in her way.
    Mary pressed her hand to the boy's head and asked "How are you feelin'?"
    He gave her a weak smile and a weaker shrug. Then he turned his gaze to Edward and spoke in a low, raspy whisper, "You are the man that the pack attacked, aren't you?"
    Suddenly, several things fell into place all at once, namely the bite marks all over the boy's body and why the boy would be running around naked in the middle of a snow storm. He grabbed Mary by the shoulder and pulled her away from the bed.
    "What manner of devil are you, boy?" he demanded.
    "I'm not a devil, sir." the boy said back. He had a thick, harsh accent that Edward could not place. Despite the boys protest, Edward remained unconvinced.
    Mary pushed Edward away from her. "What has gotten into you, Edward?"
    "Can't you see, woman? This lad is the beast that fought those wolves last night."
    For a moment she looked as though she would laugh at him and then she just turned very angry. "Edward, I am not appreciating this foolishness and I won't stand for it. This boy is in no shape to have you harassing him so I think it would be best if you found yourself something better to do. Outside!"
    The boy spoke up at that moment. "Ma'am?"
    Mary turned toward him and told him not to worry. The boy shook his head. "Ma'am, what he's talkin' about isn't foolishness. It's the truth."
    She looked to Edward for some clue as to what the boy was talking about. He shrugged, as lost as she was.
    "What do you mean, lad?"
    The boy pulled himself up into a sitting position so that he could talk. "You see, ma'am, I turn into that thing on the nights of a full moon."
    "You mean you're some kind of flamin' werewolf?" asked Edward.
    "Yessir."
    "Aw, criminy!" was Edward's reply as he stormed out of the room. After Edward had left the room and she heard the front door slam as he stomped out, she turned back to the boy.
    "How can this be?" she asked.
    "Well," said the boy, "Do you know what happens if you're the seventh son of a seventh son?"
    "You become a werewolf?" she ventured.
    The boy smiled at this. "No ma'am. Seventh sons of the seventh son tend to be a bit on the magical side. Most of them end up being wizards of one sort or another."
    "Is that so?" she said, as if he had just told her that bears were inclined to relieve their selves in the woods.
    "Yes ma'am. Well, as you might have guessed, my father had seven older brothers and so did I. I guess I was quite a handful as a baby because he left me with a castle full of wizards before I was even a year old. I don't even remember my mum and dad."
    "So how did you become a werewolf?"
    "Oh, that didn't come along until a lot later. You see, it turns out that I was a bit more powerful than anybody expected. I was just a little over four years old and I could already pick up spells like they were bad habits. Most of the wizards were quite proud of me and could always spare a moment to teach me a new trick or such. I would only have to see it once and could repeat it back to them in perfect detail."
    Suddenly the boy took a coughing fit and leaned forward wheezing. Mary gave his back a firm pounding and put a wash cloth in front of his mouth to catch his phlegm. When he had caught his breath he leaned back and relaxed.
    "Where was I, ma'am?"
    She set the wash cloth on the floor. "You were saying that the wizards liked to teach you spells and such."
    "Yes, I was. Not all the wizards liked me all that much. There was one in particular, a middle aged wizard that seemed to have all the emotion of a very sturdy brick wall. He had it set in his head that he would be the chief wizard someday but the more powerful that I became the less likely that came to be. Personally, I had no aspirations of being the chief wizard of their silly little fraternity. I just loved magic, and it sure seemed that the magic loved me."
    As he spoke, a sad look came into his eyes. He took a deep breath and went on.
    "Anyway, this wizard began to take steps to ensure that I did not take his place as the chief wizard. Without my knowing, he started slipping vials of a rather potent potion into my dinner every night. As far as I can tell, the stuff contained the blood of a werewolf. As the months wore on I started to feel stranger and stranger. When the moon started to get full, I would get moody, even savage at times. The wizard who had given me the potion in the first place came to visit me one night. He told me that he had noticed my behavior of late and he had a simple potion that would help me feel better. Not knowing better, I trusted him and accepted the last component of an elaborate potion that would cast a virtually unbreakable spell on me. It turned me into raging werewolf.
    My only consolation is that when I went into that raging form, the wolf lost control and threw the wizard from the window of the tower in which I lived. He fell two hundred feet to his death.
    Somewhere in my mind I knew how the whole thing might appear to the rest of the wizards. I certainly couldn't reveal that I had received such a curse.
    They would have done the only sane thing. Put me out of my misery before I could kill someone else. And if I didn't tell them, they would see me only as a brutal killer. It seemed that my only choice was for me to leave the sanctuary of the wizard's castle."
    "Is there no way for you to break the curse?" asked Mary.
    "The only way to break this particular spell is to cry."
    "Then why don't you just pinch yourself and make yourself cry?"
    "It's not that simple. You see, wizards can't cry."
    "You can't cry?!" she said incredulously.
    "No, ma'am. That's why this particular spell was put on me. I would have been able to unravel anything else he could have thrown at me."
    "So you left the castle?"
    "Yes ma'am. I went down the mountain and tried to stay in the woods, as far away from people as I could. I was fine during the day, but once night came I would start feeling strange again. Soon I would lose all semblance of controlled thought and the next thing I knew I would wake up next to the carcass of a deer or some such thing with my hands covered in blood and fur and what was left of my clothing would only be shreds of rags. I felt as though I were going mad."
    "You seem fine now." said Mary.
    "Aye," said the boy."That's because it's a new moon. Come the end of next month, the wolf is going to be back."
    "Well that gives us a whole month to try to figure something out." She got up and gathered up some of the dishes and rags around the bed."Why don't you try to get some sleep?" she said as she started for the door. She stopped just in side the doorway and turned back to him. "Do you have a name?"
    He acted as if that was an odd question. "I dunno. The wizards all just called me boy." He appeared to be concentrating very hard. "The wolves had a name for me. They called me Brother Two-legs."
    Mary only appeared startled for a moment, she looked as if she had a thousand questions to ask. But then the mother in her took over and recognized that the boy needed to rest so she simply said, "I think that we'll have to come up with something a bit more civil than that."
    And with that she left him to get his rest.

    When the boy awoke, he thought he was seeing some kind of holy vision. He hadn't seen too many girls in his life, being that he had spent it in a secluded castle atop a mountain, but the girl standing by the window was clearly the most beautiful in the world.
    "Are you real, angel, or am I still dreaming?" he asked.
    She turned from where she was looking out the window and smiled. "So, the wolf boy has decided to join the land of the living."
    He smiled back at her shyly and sat up. Amazingly, almost all the pain from his wounds was gone. Either Mary's many salves and potions had worked wonders on him or the werewolf blood that flowed in his veins gave him abnormal healing powers.
    He started to get out of the bed but the expression on the girl's face reminded him that he was not wearing any clothes.
    "Mum!" she stammered, "He's trying to get up!"
    Mary was through the door in a flash, telling him that he was in no condition to be moving around. She stopped in mid-lecture once she caught a glimpse of his wounds. They had all but healed. Some of them were only thin pink lines, already turning to scars.
    "How are you feeling this morning?" she asked.
    "As good as new." he replied. "Are there any clothes I can put on?"
    "Well, you're way too big to be fittin' into anything of Willy's, but we might be able to find some old clothes of Edward's in his trunk to put on you. They'll be a bit loose, but we can't have you runnin' around butt-naked, can we?"
    Behind her, Skylar breathed a sigh of relief, as if they might have actually been considering that as an option.
    A little later, the boy came out of the bedroom dressed in a baggy pair of wool trousers that were tied at the waist with a rope and a patched, well-worn wool pull-over.
    When Edward saw him, he got up from where he was sitting at the table and went out the door. "I got sheep that need tending." he said grumpily.
    It was clear that Edward was still not comfortable with having a boy that turned into a killer werewolf living under his roof. Mary had taken the boy under her wing, though, and once she had set her mind on something she could become about as compromising as your average mountain. And since he couldn't change her mind, he had decided to just become difficult.
    Mary told the boy not to worry, that Edward could only stay angry for a very short amount of time, and he would be coming around before they knew it.
    She served him up a heaping bowl of hot mutton stew. The boy thought that he might be starting to see a pattern here. For some reason, this family really liked sheep.
    One whiff of the stew reminded him that he hadn't eaten in almost twenty four hours. He inhaled the first bowl and shoveled in the second just as quickly. He was halfway through the third when he noticed that he was being watched. Mary and Skylar studied his eating habits with interest.
    "I see your appetite has returned with a vengeance." commented Mary.
    He smiled sheepishly. "I think I'm full now, ma'am."
    She took the bowl from him as he got up from the table and went to the door. The sun was shining brightly and was doing it's darndest to melt all the snow that still covered the ground in places. From the woods, he could hear the calls of birds. There was a feeling of spring in the air and no one felt it as much as those who lived in the mountains.
    The boy came around to the open side of the corral and found Edward hard at work shoveling manure into a crude wheel-barrow. The older man gave him a suspicious look as he crawled over the fence, into the corral with him. The boy grabbed a rake and started to tug and pull at the frozen manure and sod covering the ground. Within a couple minutes, he was drenched in sweat and had very little progress to show for it. He didn't give up. Instead he tore into the job even harder.
    Finally, Edward suggested that he try near the front, where the sun had melted the ground a little. The boy found the ground much easier to rake and before long he had a pile for Edward to scoop up.
    Even as the sun was melting the snow and the frozen ground, Edward began to feel his own icy distrust of the boy begin to melt away. They found their stride and the corral was done in half the time it usually would have taken. As it always was on the farm, the work was never done. The spent the afternoon out in the forest gathering fire wood. As the sun began to set, they walked back toward the cottage. As Edward stepped pass the boy to open the door he gave him a firm pat on the back. The boy smiled.
   As the weeks went by, the family came to accept the boy as part of the family. There was soon no hesitation before they set that extra place at the table. Mary decided that the boy should be called Fen and the name caught on. Edward found that the boy had bottomless reservoirs of energy and loved to help around the farm. William began to talk to Fen as they lay in their beds at night. It turned out that Fen had read thousands of books while he had been at the wizard's monastery and still knew hundred's of stories about heroic battles and great victories.
    And Skylar? Well, Skylar wasn't all together sure how she felt about the boy. Sometimes, he could seem so stupid. Once, she had told him that there was a new queen taking the throne down in the lowlands. He had looked at her, serious as could be and said "We have a queen?" But then, other times he could be absolutely wonderful. She had picked a flower out in the yard one day and held it to her nose to take a whiff. He had come off of the porch and told her what a poet four-hundred years ago had said about the fragrant little bud. The words were so beautiful, certainly not fitting for this wolf-boy.
    Even though the family was happy to have Fen around, in the back of everyone's mind the moon was growing fuller and the boy would start changing soon. Mary had been studying her books of herbs and potions into the wee hours of the morning, hoping to find something that would keep the boy from becoming the wolf. It turned out that lycanthropy was not a common affliction.
    It was Edward who finally came up with a temporary solution. It was only days before the full moon when he rushed into the house and shouted "I've got it!"
    He told Fen to follow him, but the whole family came to see what Edward had come up with. He took them out to the edge of the clearing to where several boards lay on the ground. He grabb1ed them and hefted them out of the way. Beneath them was a very old, dried up well. Fen leaned over the edge and looked down into it. It was a good twenty feet to it's cobblestone bottom.
    "What do you intend to do with this, Eddie?" asked Mary. She sounded very suspicious.
    "We're going to put Fen down in there when he changes." said Edward.
    Mary released an exasperated gasp. "You'll do no such thing! I won't stand for it!"
    "Do you have a better idea, Mary?"
    Fen mumbled something. Mary turned to him and said "What did you say?"
    "I said that it's alright. I'll stay down there."
    She turned back to Edward. She looked as though she might cry. "Oh, Eddie, there's got to be another way."
    "If there is, honey, I can't think of it."
    Fen nodded in agreement. "It's the only way."
    Edward and Fen spent the next couple of days building a set of heavy doors to cover the top of the well. Each was carved out of solid slabs of oak and they weighed about two hundred pounds a piece.
    They devised and built a set of cranks and pulleys so they could open the huge doors. As a last precaution they added an oak beam that crossed the two doors and could be locked into place.
    When they finished, they both stood looking at their handi-work. Fen looked sad and more than a little scared. Edward put his hand on the boy's shoulder.
    "Don't let it worry you, Fen." he said."We'll let you out every morning and you can stay out 'til just before sunset. I'll put a bunch of straw down in there for you to sleep on later, so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable."
    "I'll be fine." said Fen. "It wouldn't be safe to have me running around free once the wolf comes on."
    The following evening the family had an early dinner and then they took Fen out to the well. Edward brought along his roofing ladder and knelt down to hold it as Fen climbed down into the well.
    "Fen." he said.
    The boy looked up. He looked very small down there in that deep hole.
    "Sir?"
    "I'll see you in the morning, son."
    A grin spread across the boy's face. "Ain't no one ever called me son, before."
    Edward hauled the ladder out and began to work the crank that lowered the covers. Skylar sat by the edge of the well and watched Fen's upturned face. The covers closed and she began to cry.
    Feeling just a little bit guilty, the family went back to the house. Behind them the sun dipped down below the mountains. Brilliant shades of red and yellow traced the horizon and the sky in the east was already starting to darken.
    Edward sat down on the porch and pulled out the workings for a pipe. Moments later, as he puffed the pipe to life he heard the first sounds coming from the well since he had closed it up. He heard a snort and a soft scratching. His ears strained to catch even the slightest sound from the well's direction, trying to tell if it was still Fen in there or if the beast had come on yet.
    He jumped, startled as a thunderous roar of rage erupted from the well's lid. The wolf had realized what sort of a predicament it was in. It was not happy about it.
    There was more scratching and the the well's lid bounced when as the wolf slammed up into it in an attempt to escape it's prison. The was a frustrated bark and a grunt when it fell back down into the well, unsuccessful.
    Edward was glad he had taken the precaution of building such a solid lid to the well. Any weaker and Fen's dark side would have been free.
    Edward got up and tapped the ashes out of his pipe bowl. Worrying about it was not going to help anything, and besides, it was too late to try anything else at this point. Heavy-hearted, he went in to join his family. As he closed the door, the wolf began to howl.
    His wife sat knitting, her hands snapping and jerking in quick agitated movements as she made the intricate loops and knots. William lay on the floor, idly playing with toy soldiers. His face was sullen, and Edward could tell that his mind was not on his game. Skylar sat by the the window facing out toward the well. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Every time the wolf would howl, she would flinch a little.
    He decided it would be best for him to find something to do in the basement. Down there, he was delighted to find that the dirt walls and the house above him muffled the wolf's incessant howls. If he thought that Mary would have let him get away with it, he might have tried to sleep down here.
    As it was, sleep did not come easy for him that night. It was well after midnight and he was still laying awake, listening to the loud baying coming from the well. All of a sudden, it stopped. He sat up right.
    Had it gotten out? He slipped from the covers and tip-toed into the front room. when he leaned to look out the window he saw why the howling had ceased.
    Looking like some ghostly figure, her white nightgown catching the full moon's light, Skylar lay on the well's lid. Edward could hear her talking in a soothing voice, comforting the angry beast below her. There was a low begging whimper and she shushed it with a kind word.
    Edward pulled a chair from over by the fireplace and sat down in front of the window so that he could watch his daughter. In a couple of minutes he found himself dozing of to sleep. It seemed that Skylar's voice soothed more than just the savage beast.
    He awoke a little later, and he could see that his daughter had fallen asleep out on the well cover. He grabbed the blankets from her room and very quietly, he walked out to where his daughter was sleeping. As he drew near he heard a low growl and froze in his tracks. The beast was sniffing around at the bottom of the well. After a couple of seconds, it whined and he heard it lay down. He walked the rest of the way to his daughter and carefully covered her up. He then returned to his chair by the window and to his sleep.

    And this is how the months passed. For most of the month, Fen stayed in the house as one of the family. when he felt the change coming on, he moved out to the well at sundown, and Edward would help him out the next morning. Skylar continued to sneak out to stay with the wolf, and Edward continued to sleep in a chair with one eye on her.
    Spring turned into summer, and Edward allowed Fen to take the sheep up into the hills during the day, and he let Skylar go with him. The two were quickly becoming inseparable, and something about seeing them together reminded him of himself and Mary many years before. Six months before, he had been afraid to have this strange wolf boy staying in his house, now he felt comfortable leaving his daughter in Fen's protection. No one ever told Fen how Skylar spent her nights while he was down in the well, but Edward sensed that deep down, Fen knew and loved his daughter all the more for it.
    The boy was taking well to the life of a shepherd and farmer. He threw himself into it whole heartedly. Edward suspected that he was just trying to find something to keep his mind off of his losing the ability to work magic. He could only imagine what that loss must be like for the boy. Something like losing your hearing or your vision.
    Fen was still able use some of what he had learned at the wizard's castle. Much of what wizards did did not require magic. It was just a knowledge of what existed in nature and how it could be used. When Fen and Skylar went up into the hills with the sheep, he was always on the lookout for herbs and roots that he could use in his potions. He shared his knowledge with Mary and she was delighted to be able to add to her families medicine bag. Fen had even been able to provide her with a mixture that, when rubbed in the hair, changed your hair color for a short time.
    After a long day in the field, Edward almost didn't recognize the red-head that met him at the door as his wife.
    It was the seventh month since Fen had joined their family when trouble began. The summer heat was still in full swing, but the leaves were starting to turn various shades of red and gold in preparation of the fall and winter still to come. Everyone in the house were wondering what they were going to do once it started getting colder and Skylar would no longer be able to sleep outside and sooth the beast at night.
    Mary worked harder than ever on her werewolf cure, and poor Fen found himself trying all sorts of foul tasting brews every day. He doubted that she would ever find a cure for his condition in the natural world, but he humored her. He felt that it would take nothing less than a miracle to return him his humanity.
    One day, Fen was out in the vegetable garden, planting seeds that would be pumpkins and gourds later in the season. He had dug a small hole with his hoe and bent over to drop in a seed when he heard a voice call his name from the tree-line. It took him a second to realize that the voice was not speaking in human tongue. And it had not called him Fen, it had called him Brother Two-legs.
    He spun around and saw Brother Snout Scar. He was the leader of the pack of wolves that Two-legs used to run around with. He was named for a viscous scar that ran over his snout that he had received from an angry female elk that had been defending her calf from the wolf pack. Wolves named their pack mates by their most prominent physical feature.
    "Well, don't you make a fine human?" said Snout Scar, his words a combination of yips and whines.
    Speaking in wolf, Fen said, "Why have you come here? I don't run with your pack any more." He could feel the hair standing up on the back of his hands and neck. Snout scar hated humans and it worried Fen to have him this near to his adopted family.
    "Why do you run around with these humans? Don't you miss running with the pack? Don't you remember how it was to be a wolf and feel hot blood running from your jaws, and knowing that you had provided for the pack?" The big wolf settled down on his haunches and appeared to make himself comfortable. "I've come to make a deal with you."
    "I'm not a wolf, Snout Scar. I've found a new pack and I don't want any of your deals"
    Snout scar snorted in contempt. He could not understand how Fen could chose to live under a roof rather than the open sky. Not to be free to run the forest would be like hell for a wolf. "You were eager enough to be a wolf when the snow was here last and you were cold and freezing. Look, all I want is just to take care of the pack. Is that bad?"
    Fen shook his head. "What do you want?"
    "The pack has eaten well this summer, but it will be winter soon, and food will be hard to find. We want sheep."
    "No!" said Fen. "Stay away from the human's sheep. If I catch you trying to kill one of the man's sheep, the pack will have to call you Brother Gums His Food or Brother Broken Legs."
    "How things change." He got a sly look in his eyes. "I hear they lock you up when ever you start to act a little too much like one of us. You wouldn't be able to do much from down in that hole would you? You try to keep me from the sheep and maybe I'll have to pay a visit to one of your precious humans. I've noticed that you run around with the girl a lot."
    Fen snarled at the wolf and stepped toward it with the hoe poised to strike. "You stay away from her, Snout Scar! I'll kill you if you go near her. Do you understand?!"
    With a snicker, the wolf got to it's feet. It stretched lazily, as if it didn't have care in the world. "You're right." said Snout Scar. "You're no wolf." With that he loped off into the forest.
    Fen ran to the house and told Edward what had happened. Edward took a moment to think it over and told Fen that he would go into town tomorrow and buy some wolf traps. He didn't let Fen know how worried he really was. One thing was for sure. Skylar had slept outside for the last time.
    They set traps all around the property the next day. Fen did not tell Edward how much he hated the things. When he ran with the wolves there was no greater fear then getting caught in the teeth that will not let go.
    As the month got farther along the weather got colder, and they started finding wolf tracks closer and closer to the house. Edward started carrying a pitch-fork with him, and instructed the rest of his family to stay close to the house. Occasionally, in the evening, he would see a couple of the skinny wolves standing at the edge of the forest. They watched him and the sheep coral hungrily.
    And finally, the time of month that they had been dreading arrived. The moon had been nearly full the night before and Fen could feel the animal within beginning to stir and stretch it's legs.
    There was quite a fight with Skylar when she was told that under no circumstances was she to go outside tonight. She fussed and argued for hours, but her father was a brick wall on the subject.
    When it came time, Skylar, Fen, and Edward went out to the well. Edward stayed back as Fen and Skylar talked next to the well's rim.
    "I can't leave you alone." she whimpered to him.
    He gently kissed her forehead. "It's going to be okay, Sky. You know that there's no other way. With the wolves running around, it's just too dangerous."
    He and Edward had decided it would be better if they didn't tell her that the wolf had threatened to hurt her in particular. "You've got to promise me that you won't try to come out here tonight, Skylar."
    She hesitated and then finally, she promised. He nodded and stepped away from her. Edward came with the ladder and helped Fen down into the well.
   Just before he lowered the cover, Skylar said, "Wait." She pulled one of the long blue ribbons from her hair and handed it down to Fen. He held it to his nose and inhaled with a smile.
    "I love you." she said.
    "I love you." he said.
    The cover closed, shutting them off from each other.

    Hours later, Two-legs lay in the bottom of the well. He held a strip of cloth in his paw that he was not quite sure where he had gotten, but the scent of it soothed him. It made visions of something beautiful dance in his head, and his snout pulled up into a wolfish grin. With it in his paws, he hadn't felt the usual rage at being locked up.
    In the middle of the night, he awoke to a familiar scent. The pack was here. He remembered that he used to run with this pack, but now the fact that they were there worried him. A low growl started deep in his chest.
    "Hi, Two-Legs." yipped a voice above his head.
    There was the scratching of claws on wood as Snout-Scar pulled himself up onto the well cover.
    "You shouldn't have let them put up the traps."
    Some where in the distance, a sheep bleated. Two-Legs suddenly understood. By setting traps, they had marked the farm as their territory, and now the wolves were coming for a territorial fight. Two-Legs roared and jumped a the top of the well. He fell short by a couple feet and dropped back down into the well. He heard Snout-scar chuckle above.
    Edward woke up at the sheep's first bleating and got straight up out of bed. He grabbed his pitchfork and ran out the front door. He was stepping off the porch and on his way to the sheep coral when the full weight of a wolf hit him in the shoulder and knocked him to the ground. He had been ambushed. And then he realized that he had not had the chance to close the door yet. He rolled in time to see two of the wolves streak into the house.
    He screamed his wife's name as he got to his feet. The sheep bleated again, this time in ernest. He snatched the pitch-fork off of the ground and bolted back through the door. He heard Mary shout in their room and heard a yip.
    When Edward had gotten out of bed, she had gotten up and lit a lantern. Moments later there was a banging out front, and he heard Edward shout her name. She had started his way when the wolves raced into the room snapping and biting at her. One had crouched and prepared to throw itself at her when she threw the lantern into it's snarling face. The wolf exploded into flame, while it's companion quickly left the room. Edward caught it in the hallway and drove the tines of his pitch-fork down through it's spine and into it's chest.
    Skylar and William appeared behind them, crying and asking what had happened. Mary ran from the bedroom, shouting that the whole room was on fire. They all turned and went out the front.
    Skylar took a firm hold of William's hand and dragged him away from the house as the roof caught on fire. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew that she had to get away from the burning cottage. Behind her, the roof went up in a whoosh of flame.
    From some where close by, she could hear a roar of rage and a heavy thumping. She spun around to get her bearings and spotted the well. Every couple of seconds, the cover would bounce up and thump back into place as Fen threw himself into it. Sitting atop the cover, a lone wolf stared at her with murder in it's eyes. It ignored the way it's seat bounced every couple of seconds. The wolf stood up and jumped down off of it's perch. It slunk toward her.

    Down in the well, Two-leg's chest heaved with exertion. His leg's quivered beneath him as he stared up at the ceiling. The last time he had hit the cover, he thought he had heard the wood splinter. He wasn't sure. He didn't have too many jumps left in him. He couldn't stop. Snout-Scar had threatened to hurt the girl with the ribbon.. He crouched and threw himself up the well. The claws on his paws dug into the walls, seeking purchase on the slick cobblestones that made them up. They caught about halfway up and he was able to launch himself from there. He felt the bones in his shoulder snap when he crashed into the cover, but he was also greeted with the groan of wrenching wood. The cross beam buckled upward and snapped. Both covers slammed back, and Two-legs found himself hanging from the wells rim.
    Before him lay a horrific scene. There was a boy, who looked familiar, standing over a struggle on the ground. The boy was screaming. Snout-scar was on top of the girl with the ribbon, biting and tearing. A man with the sharp three spikes ran across the clearing, intent on stopping the wolf. Behind the man, there was a woman who was shouting a word over and over. Somehow, Two-legs knew that the word was for the girl with the ribbon.
    Two-Legs scrambled over the well rim and lunged at Snout-Scar. Snout-scar turned just in time to see Two-legs huge body hurdling at him. Two-Legs hit the big wolf in a tackle and the two locked onto each other in battle. Two-legs felt Snout-scar's teeth tear into his neck, but he ignored the pain. He slashed at his opponents belly with his claws and tore at his throat with his teeth. They rolled across the ground, twisting and turning. Two-legs Secured a big mouth hold on the wolf's throat and sank his teeth deep. He felt Snout-scar jerk against him in an attempt to get away. Then he felt the warm flow of blood that marked the end of the fight.
    Two-legs pulled himself free of the body and dragged himself to his feet. His new pack was gathered around the girl with the ribbon. They were making a sound that reminded him of a wolf's grief-stricken howl. He stumbled toward them and all of them but the man shied away from him. The man held the girl out to him and said words that sounded angry.
    Two-legs saw that the girl was very still. He took her body into his crude hands and shoved his snout onto her long hair. He felt something in his heart tear loose, just as real as when he had felt something tear loose in his shoulder earlier. From deep down, a howl rose and filled the night.
    And this is when the miracle happened. When the wizard had put the spell on Fen, he had made a mistake. You see, wolves are the kind of animal that when they take a mate, they take it for life. And should they lose their mate, they show grief. When Fen became Two-legs, he was no longer a wizard who could not shed a tear. He was a wolf that felt unbearable sorrow with every fiber of his being.
    A single tear ran down his long, hairy, blood-covered snout. It hung off the end of his nose for a moment and then fell onto Skylar's upturned face. The effect was immediate.
    Spreading out from that tear drop, changes occurred. The werewolf began to turn into the boy. The girl's wounds began to close. The grass they were sitting on turned from a dried brown to a vibrant green. A circle of life spread around them. It passed onto the house. The fire went out and the burned timber and thatch roof began to change back to how it was before. Edward, Mary, and William stood in the middle of this miracle and watched as their dead daughter stirred and opened her eyes.
    "My love." she said, as if she had been waiting for him.
    At that moment, Fen realized what had happened. He looked at his hands in wonder. They glowed with magical potential. The spell was broken.

    "And that is the end of my story." said grandmother.
    "Wait!" said Jessica. "What happened then? Did they live happily ever after?"
    Her cousins broke out with similar questions.
    Grandmother thought for a moment and then she said, "Yes, I think they did live happily ever after. Now off to bed with you."
    They moaned but did as they were told. After the last one had gotten to his bed, she came back to wake grandpa. She gave his shoulder a gentle shake.
    "Let's go to bed, old man."
    He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Are you real, Angel, or am I still dreaming?"
    She playfully slapped his arm and said,"Why you sly old wolf, you." She started toward their bedroom as he got up out of the chair to follow her.
    "Oh, honey." she called back to him. "Could you get the lamp?"
    He turned, pointed at the lamp and winked. The flame went out with a puff.
 

    The End...for now

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