A Wolf on the Rug

This is the beginning to my fantasy story. Please enjoy and review!!!

Jakube was laughing at his mother’s side. Barely thirteen, the boy was already six feet tall, with tousled black hair and sparkling green eyes. His mother was a dwarfess, barely five feet tall, and her son towered over her. She had dark brown hair, not quite black, and was heavyset, with thick, strong arms and legs. Her eyes sparkled too as she looked up at Jakube. She loved to laugh, but could be quite serious at times. She also had an intense imagination and made everything seem like an adventure.

Holding his mother’s arm was Jakube’s father. He was an enormous, broad-shouldered man with thick black hair that shined in the sunlight. He was strict but very kind and gentle with his wife and son as he led them through the streets of Haariba. It was not very crowded at noon, but still he took great care to keep them close. He always feared that his small wife would not be seen by horseriders or some traveling werewolf or werecat and would be trampled, and, although she could quite take care of herself, she let him worry over her.

Jakube pulled away from his mother for a moment to go glance at some new item in a store window. His mother’s startled but laughing voice called him back as his father’s louder, more worried one shouted his name. Although he was only a few feet away, his father was frightened. His father had come from Valguron, a much larger and much more dangerous city than the small town of Haariba. If you lost sight of your child for a moment in Valguron, it was likely you would never see them again.

Jakube shrugged off his father’s warning for a moment as he stared eagerly at the item inside the store. His father’s voice came once more…

Then an earsplitting scream shot through the loud street noises and his father’s words were cut short.

Jakube whirled around, terrified before he even saw the blood, the carriage laying over the two broken bodies, the rider leaping from his seat to the horse’s back and racing away, not wishing to be charged with murder, whether accidental or intentional.It took only a moment to see what had happened. Jakube's mother had broken away from his father for a moment to get him, and the carriage had rushed around the corner, the horses wild, the rider out of control. Jakube’s father had leapt forward, trying to shield his wife’s body with his own.

As Jakube stared at the dismal scene before him, the figures of his parents, caught in one last, desperate embrace, he had an overwhelming feeling that he was absolutely alone.

***

5 years later

 

            The night wind had rushed inside the house when Jakube had opened the door earlier and had, since then, swirled through the room, refusing to depart entirely. Now it advanced on the boy, its cool fingers rustling his thick black hair as he stirred ever so slightly from his almost slumber. Jakube was jerked into consciousness by its tugging and, finally, the wind fled. The boy’s eyes opened to familiar surroundings. His parents’ house, that had become his when they had died, was small but welcoming. The living room, the room he was in, was large, and the flickering firelight barely illuminated its features. The shelves with some of his personal belongings, the few animal skins hanging over the large hearth, the two large chairs pushed together facing the fireplace, one of which he was slumped over in. Finally, his eyes fell upon the thing that still made him feel the most burning pain: his stool. His stool he had always sat on as a child, where his mother would read to him and his father would tell him stories. The stool used to be right in between his father and mother’s chairs, but he had long ago banished it to the farthest corner from them, where it gathered dust and cobwebs, not touched for five years, for the very feel of it made him remember all the hurt, the pain and loneliness. So the stool stayed in the corner, barely illuminated by the fireplace’s light.

            Jakube did not see any of these things though. His eyes opened to the only thing in the room not lavish or familiar. That was the large grey werewolf, curled up on his best rug before the fireplace.  The werewolf was huge, almost eight feet tall, and had towered over Jakube. He had had to stoop through the door way, even though Jakube’s father had been six feet and six inches tall, towering over his mother, who had been a dwarf and had barely been five feet tall. His father had made the doorway enormous, but the werewolf had hardly managed to drag his enormous body through it.

Jakube, though only seventeen, was already over six and a half feet tall. He himself was lean but broad-shouldered, but he was nothing compared to the werewolf. The werewolf could have felled the boy with a single blow. He was twice Jakube’s width in shoulders and was as stocky as a dwarf and as tall as a werecat.

How the werewolf had ended up at his house, Jakube did not know. How he had even managed to knock on the door he did not know! The werewolf had almost fallen on the boy when he had opened the door, so exhausted was he.

 Jakube didn’t know much about werewolves, but his father had told him that on the night of a full moon, if you were in a place with many rogue werewolves, to not go out at night, for they lost all control and reasoning. Sometimes, if they were well mannered werewolves, a part of society in general, they wouldn't behave that way.

His father also told him that on the night of a new moon, the werewolves were so weak they could hardly move. They would often sleep the whole night and the next day, and finally, the moon would hit them with her rays, and they were able to wake up.  

It was the night of the new moon, and the werewolf was fast asleep and, Jakube hoped, would not wake until the next morning at least. He wondered where he had come from, and why he was here. He was a messenger, but could also be a warrior or a scout. Jakube guessed it was the first.

So, what business did a warrior werewolf have with the folks in the Hills of Moreodun with a message, and who sent him? It had to be some great Warlord, or a ruler of some distant city.

Jakube probably could have held the werewolf off had he awakened with no moon in the sky. Still, he was nervous with the monstrous being, As soon as the wolf had appeared, Jakube had gone to ask one of the people on the nearly empty street to take a message to his on of his closest friends, in fact his closest friend, Zander. Zander and he had been friends since they were barely five and had gotten on a wrestling match on a rather muddy stream bank. The bout abruptly ended when they both fell into the freezing stream. Jakube was angry until Zander had surfaced, laughing, and he had, like all easily convinced five-year-olds, changed his mind abruptly. They laughed together and, after that, had become the best of friends. 

Now, Jakube needed his friend’s help. His message was simple, just asking him to come visit him. Zander had come quickly, for he knew it was only on a very special occasion he stayed the night, or if Jakube was in trouble or needed help. He uessed it was one of the latter, as his friend would have told him of any special occasion days, even weeks in advance.

So, Zander rushed to Jakube’s dwelling as quickly as his pony would carry him. Normally he would walk, but it was a dark night and he could scarce see the road, let alone find his way to his friend’s house.

When he glanced in his friend’s window and saw the werewolf, a horrible fear and guilt washed over him. Fear because the werewolf looked ferocious and huge, guilt because his pony, Fergath, was terrified of werewolves.

Zander had a good reason to be frightened, for he was about dwarf-sized, and many people asked if he had dwarf blood in his veins. He certainly had no idea, and his parents weren't ones for family history. Zander’s father was a strict man, and everything his son did seemed to disappoint him. Zander tried hard to impress him, but his father, even if he was pleased, would not say anything.  He didn’t seem sure of how to talk to his son. Jakube believed Zander’s father did love him, but his friend was hardly sure. Zander’s sisters and little brother hardly noticed how hard their father was on their oldest sibling, and often didn’t understand their brother. But there was still a fiercely strong bond between the siblings. Zander would defend them from anything from large dogs to teasing boys. His sisters were his pride and joy, and no one would ever be a better older brother than as Zander was to his only younger brother, Hayden. Zander was incredibly loyal to his family, and was just as fiercely loyal to Jakube.

Now the boy entered Jakube’s house. The werewolf was even larger than he had thought, covering the entire rug and hearth. Zander was only a few inches above five feet, and Jakube towered over him. Zander had some of the stocky build of a dwarf, and was much stronger than he looked, but even so, he was a scrawny boy. He sometimes even felt nervous around Jakube, but quickly would shake the feeling off.

But, at the sight of the enormous beast on his friend’s floor, he wished more than anything he could leave, run home and pretend he had not gotten the message. But, his loyalty for Jakube won out, and he stayed.  

He was relieved when the beast did not stir. At first glance he though Jakube was asleep, but as he crept closer, he saw his eyes open.

“Thank you for coming.” Jakube said quietly.

“Of course I came.” Zander said lightly, smiling, remembering guiltily how much he hadn’t wanted to enter the house.

“I knew you would.” Jakube gave him a knowing smile. Had he seen him hesitate at the window? If he had, he would never tell. “Did you bring Fergath?”

Zander sighed. He could hide nothing from Jakube. “Yes.”

Jakube frowned, a look so sad and upset that it always made Zander want to get him to laugh again, quickly, to get the expression off his face. But now he wasn't sure what to say.

“I’m sorry.” Jakube murmured. “I shouldn't have made you come.”

“No, it’s all right.” Zander said quickly. His friend smiled. A sad, knowing smile. If that was anything Jakube was, it was sad and knowing. He always knew everything Zander didn’t say. He could read him like a book. And, although he pretended otherwise with his wide, boyish smile and easy laugh, there was always an underlying sadness that you could feel around him. You could see it in his eyes as he laughed, but they kept the same pained look, like the very sound of his own laughter saddened him. The torture of being parentless, all alone, would never really leave him, and Zander, try as he might, could not replace his lost family. It was the only thing about being with Jakube that made him feel like a failure.

Zander quickly changed the subject, looking away from Jakube’s face, his searching, haunted eyes. Haunted still with the sight of his parents lying still in the road. Zander could see it as clearly in his irises as if the image were still reflected there. “So, where’d he come from, anyway?” He muttered, nodding towards the werewolf.

“I’m not sure-” Jakube began, but a deep, rumbling growl interrupted him.

“That’s none of your business boy.”    

Zander started, then stared angrily at the werewolf. It hadn’t moved a muscle. “Who’s business is it then?” He asked loudly, and Jakube heard an anger in his voice he didn’t usually hear. It was the same voice he used on young boys that were rude to his sisters. Zander was very, very annoyed.

“That’s none of your business either.” The werewolf muttered, now lifting his head to stare at Zander with his large, green eyes. He squinted a little. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” Zander retorted. “And why are you in my friend’s house?”

Realization dawned in the wolf’s eyes. “Oh. You must be Zander. He said you might be here. I am surprised you didn’t run.”

“Run?” Zander raged. “I wouldn’t run from the likes of you! Jakube could easily best you with no moon!”

Now the werewolf was getting angry. He began to rise. “Is that what you think?”

“Zander…” Jakube began quietly.

“You foolish boy!” The werewolf snarled. “You know nothing! You are so naïve it’s pathetic!”

Zander’s face was turning red. The words were familiar. So many people had spoken the very same things to him. But coming from this werewolf, the words were unbearable. He opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. The werewolf took a step forward, and suddenly, Zander was as frightened as he was angry. The werewolf would kill him. He knew it. He froze at the thought of it. The werewolf took another step towards him, teeth bared, nose quivering with his scent. The scent of his fear.

“Enough!” Jakube shouted, leaping to his feet between them. He turned slowly to face the werewolf, staring up into the wolf’s face with no fear, only a set determination. He was not nearly as large as the werewolf, but right then, to Zander, he seemed to tower over him, to be looking down instead of up. “Listen wolf.” His voice was slow, calm, but also dangerous. “This is my house, and you do not need to stay. You will not speak to Zander like this while you are here. Either go to sleep by the fire, or get out.”  

The werewolf sat there, glaring at Jakube, a rumbling in his throat like the beginnings of a growl. Jakube stared back at him, his gaze never wavering, as defiant as the wolf. The rumble grew louder and louder, and Zander lay his hand on the hilt of his only dagger, ready to throw it into the werewolf’s heart when he lunged at Jakube.

There was no need. The rumble grew into a chortle and chortle turned to laugh and the laugh turned into a roar. The werewolf howled with laughter, and Jakube stood, his facial expression unchanged, but Zander could tell he was unsure of what to do. He never took his hand from his dagger and merely watched the wolf.

“Oh,” The wolf said after his laughs had subsided. His voice was no longer rough or angry as it had been before, but was now quiet and had a soft kindness to it that surprised Jakube. “Veradagon was right in choosing you, boy, I can tell!”

Jakube gasped involuntarily. “Veradagon? But I thought he was dead!”

The werewolf immediately stopped smiling. “He is.” He growled, his voice somewhat nervous and rough like it had been before. “Mere slip of the tongue. Don’t think about it, he is dead.”

The werewolf seemed to be searching for words, frantically trying to cover up something that shouldn’t have been said.

“What are you saying?” Zander demanded.

The wolf sighed, sounding as tired as he must have felt. “Nothing. I…I will tell you all in the morning.”

The werewolf turned quickly back to the fireplace, curling up again. The conversation was clearly over.

Jakube offered Zander his bed, but the boy refused, searching until he found enough blankets for himself and his friend. He had to take the ones off Jakube’s parent’s bed. He didn’t mention it, but curled up in them, giving Jakube the ones off his own bed. But even a few feet away from them, Jakube thought he could smell the fragrance of his parents on the old sheets.

***

Jakube lay away thinking for a long time. He wished silently to fall immediately asleep, but the wish was not granted, and he stared at the ceiling, remembering and wondering. 

The feeling of the thick cotton of their blankets on his skin brought memories of his parents flooding back to him. Lying between them on a cold night when he had had a bad dream. The sound of his mother singing him to sleep. His father inventing a story for bedtime where Jakube was always the hero, saving the land from some evil being. All these memories comforted and haunted him, keeping him awake, staring at the ceiling, even as the voices of his dead parents rang in his ears.

“Jakube?” Zander’s voice caught him by surprise and sent him jerking upright, his muscles tightening as he stared frantically around the room. He relaxed as he remembered. There was a werewolf in front of his fire. Zander was with him. The wolf had said something about Veradagon…what had he meant?

Jakube pushed it from his mind, settling back down and turning to face his friend. Zander’s eyes were concerned and searching. For what, Jakube wasn’t sure. He stared at his friend, his blue eyes prying into Zander’s brown ones, as if trying to dig some secret from the damp, dark earth.  Zander ducked his head, looking away.

“Are you awake too?” He finally asked.

Jakube laughed tenderly. “It would seem so, wouldn’t it?” He took a better look at his friend. Zander looked tired, if not exhausted. He seemed to be fighting off sleep, fighting to even keep his eyes open. Jakube sighed. “You haven’t slept at all have you?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Not a wink.” Zander said, staring off into space, looking guilty. “But I’m not tired.” A large yawn betrayed him though. Jakube laughed.

“I can see that.” He smiled, then frowned, that sad frown of his, and Zander felt even more guilty. “Go to sleep Zander. It’s fine.”

“No, its not!” Zander said fiercely. Then his voice quieted. “I don’t dare sleep.” He was looking at the ground, but he did not seem ashamed.

Jakube smiled at his friend. Does anyone in these hills have such a friend as Zander? He thought, his smile turning into a grin.

“Well,” he said finally. “I’m glad of that. But now you rest and I’ll watch.”

Zander was too tired to protest, for he surely would have had he been more awake. But now he settled down on his blankets without another word, quickly surrendering to darkness and sleep.

Jakube watched Zander for a while, calm and peaceful in his sleep. He seemed to any watcher to be thinking, but he was not. He was merely staring and watching, his mind blank of thought, his eyes trained on the rise and fall of Zander’s chest.

And so it was, until the first light of dawn.

Author's Note

I would love any reviews, feel free to correct me, sorry if I made spelling mistakes.

Reviews

[jbwest31]

This is great! The one problem I had was you repeat names very often. Maybe replace a couple with some pronouns. that might help the story seem a little less repetitive.

[Aarea]

Ok, I will check that out! Thanks for telling me.

[karen101]

I really like this. Its got mystery and intrigue. It makes me want to read more. I agree with othe posts regarding the repetition. The knowing smile was mentioned sevearl times in the space of a few sentences. But eell done. You should approach agents once it is finished

[Aarea]

Thanks for your review! I know I have to change it, I just haven't gotten around to it yet. Thanks for mentioning the smile thing, it really helps to know what I should look for to change. :)

[karen101]

I really like this. Its got mystery and intrigue. It makes me want to read more. I agree with othe posts regarding the repetition. The knowing smile was mentioned sevearl times in the space of a few sentences. But eell done. You should approach agents once it is finished

[crystalandra]

As a lover of fantasy I really enjoyed reading your story. The pacing is quite good and had me on the edge of my seat feeling sympathy for the main character especially after losing his parents. My one criticism though is in some places it becomes repetitive especially in the description of the characters. Yes, we get the idea that the main character's mother was small or that the werewolf is huge and even towers over Jakube--no need to go on about it. Other than that, fantastic work setting up the plot.

[Aarea]

Thanks a bunch for reviewing!!!!!!!!!!!!

[NAyersman]

I feel like this sets up your main characters pretty nicely and gives a start for the journey ahead. However, like Matt said earlier, there is quite a bit that is simply told flat out from the start in exposition like immediately telling how Jakube and Zander became friends as soon as you mentioned Zander as opposed to waiting to bring it up when Zander was actually entering the scene.

I feel like your opening sequence could have been simply incorporated into the meat of the chapter. The story of his parents' deaths could have been told by him remembering it while looking at their empty chairs. You repeated his parents' heights in the meat from the opening. Though mentioning that Jakube was 6' tall at thirteen was impressive, his being 6' tall at seventeen was surprising simply because that meant he hadn't grown in five years of puberty. I was also a bit curious as to how powerful Jakube's sense of smell is that he can still smell his half-decade dead parents on the bedsheets. It's your story to tell, I'm just giving the couple changes I'd have made to it. Do with my opinions what you will.

[Aarea]

Nope, you are absolutely right. I didn't even think about that, but now that I do, it is a bit weird...:) I'll have to change that. Thanks for telling me!

[NAyersman]

No problem :)

[Matthew Walsh]

I'm only an amature writer myself, so bear that in mind.
I think a review is best when it involves some criticism and not simply praise, but let me start with the praise. I think you have a wonderful start to a fantastic story here. You have good characters who seem very well defined with a detailed opener. The story also seems to have a good structure planned out.

There is one thought I would point out. You spend a lot of the opening telling us everything, without dialog or sense of activity. I think your story would open with more pull if the reader was watching it happen now rather than being told what happened before they started reading, if that makes any sense. As an example, instead of telling us about the werewolf lying on the floor and all of Jakube's thoughts up to this point, tell us instead about the knock on the door and the dialog between Jakube and the wolf. Take us through Jakube's conversation with the messenger who went to get Zander. No need to change the story, just involve us. Show it, don't tell it.

Just my thoughts.

Great start otherwise, I look forward to reading more.

[Aarea]

k thanks! I will definitely think about changing it, and thanks for the tip!

[Maria Lopes]

I would totally but This book! Keep on writting and Ill keep on reading! Beautifully written and enthicing!

[Aarea]

Thanks a bunch. I will keep putting stuff on here!:)

[chloe]

wow. i love this! its written like a professionally published book! i agree with Lauren! this is amazing wow!!!!!!!!!! im glad i found this you should really get this published!

[Aarea]

Thanks so much! I'm glad you liked it. I am considering getting it published someday.

[chloe]

yay! im really glad!

[Aarea]

K I'll tell them, well I wasn't going to, but then I put it one this website and this girl threatened me with my life if I didn't do it.;)

[chloe]

lol! i think you really should publish it! i really like it!

[Lauren]

holy crap! I love it, I have absaloutly no complaints about this. You have to get it published someday

[Aarea]

Thank you! I was really hoping someone would like it! My grandma is typing it for me because she wants to read it and she's all, It's amazing! But I'm never sure if she's serious or just being nice. Ok, what of yours do you want me to review?

[Lauren]

I only have the one book

[Aarea]

K I reviewed it. Get more writing on there girl! I want to read it!