Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale Read Online Free PDF Page B

squealed for information. Men yelled at dogs to be
quiet and pulled them back. More weapons were brandished. Thal
cringed lower.
    A man with long hair, a leather hat, and a
cloak embroidered with fish and vines arrived.
    “How many are there?” he asked.
    The fat man answered, “Just this one. He
appeared like a ghost.”
    “Get your pistol,” the long haired man
snapped when he saw it in the dirt.
    Reluctantly the fat man stooped in front of
Thal. He snatched the pistol and scurried back.
    “He doesn’t seem violent,” the long haired
man observed. He motioned for the others to lower their
weapons.
    “What’s your name?” he asked.
    Thal hung his head in frustrated silence.
    The people began asking more questions.
    “Where did he come from?”
    “What people have hair like that?”
    “Do you suppose he’s an escaped
prisoner?”
    That suggestion caught the leader’s
attention. “All the more reason that we should show him kindness,”
he said and he received a few agreeable chuckles.
    “Yes, be kind to him,” said the woman with
the patchy shawl.
    The leader took off his nice cloak and
approached Thal. The fluttering of the voluminous cloak made Thal
nervous. It seemed like a net was about to be thrown over him, but
he sensed no malice in the man.
    When the fabric settled over Thal’s back, the
covering was unexpectedly pleasing. A man had so little to separate
him from a harsh world, and clothing was a welcome gift.
    The camp leader put his hands on Thal’s
shoulders and drew him to his feet. Strength and confidence were in
the man’s grip, and Thal met his eyes.
    “We won’t hurt you,” the leader said, and
Thal did not doubt his sincerely. He tried to respond, but words
still eluded him.
    The woman came to Thal.
    “I’ll take him to my wagon,” she said. “Poor
creature, whatever could have happened to him? Not in all my days
have I seen one such as you appear in the night.”
    She prattled on about her experience with
wanderers and fugitives as she led him away. Her motherliness
comforted Thal. The leader kept a hand on his shoulder probably in
case he became dangerous, but Thal was glad of the contact. With
the swarm of people around him, his sense of humanity was rushing
back.
    He was set down by a fire. Its heat was
shocking, but he controlled his initial alarm, and the discomfort
soon passed.
    “I suppose he’s hungry. Never met a fugitive
that wasn’t hungry,” the woman said. She turned and barked at a
skinny girl peeking around the wagon to bring bread.
    The leader folded his arms and regarded Thal
thoughtfully. Two other men joined him and studied the newcomer.
The rest of the people filled the darkness in every direction and
stared with open curiosity. Dogs circled but did not come
close.
    “Andreli, what do you make of him?” one man
asked the leader.
    “I’m not making anything of him yet,” Andreli
admitted.
    Thal had listened to the short exchange
closely and grasped that he had just heard the man’s name. All men
had names he recalled.
    “An…drel…i,” Thal said slowly. He was very
pleased with himself to have formed some coherent syllables.
    “Yes, Andreli, that’s me, and who are you?”
the man asked excitedly.
    For a moment Thal struggled but then finally
said, “Thal.”
    Andreli came back with several more
questions, but Thal was not able to converse. The woman insisted
that Thal should eat. She handed him a chunk of rye bread.
    He accepted it gratefully. The texture was
odd and lacking the satisfying carnality of raw meat, but the
graininess was pleasing in a new way.
    Happy to see him eating, the woman sat back
on her heels. “Since none of these louts have the manners to
introduce me, I’ll have to do it. I’m Emerald,” she said with an
imperious air.
    Thal nodded but did not attempt to say her
name while his mouth was full of bread. Emerald caught the eye of
the scrawny girl and told her to find some clothes and a blanket.
She rummaged through a