The sterile, chemical smell of the hospital was usually irritating to Fenrir, but he had always found it bearable when moments like this came along.

“And then, and then,” Mary was saying in between wheezing laughs, “you stared at me like I was the crazy one for saying my entire personality was an empty whisky bottle.” Fenrir shook his head at her, grinning and the memory. He could sit beside her bed in the tiny visitor’s chair all day and probably would’ve if the hospital hadn’t limited his staying hours. The story that the two of them had created was that Fenrir was Mary’s grown nephew. The nurses would occasionally mention to him how sweet it was that he would visit his old aunt and put up with her constant chatter as he was leaving. Fenrir would nod and smile back and wonder what they would be like if they knew what would be coming if they so happened to let Mary pass away. He wondered who would be the first target in his losing control. But for the time being he was content to listen to Mary and reminisce about their first meeting.

“I will forever be glad that you didn’t call the cops on me that night.” He told her.

“I’m just glad you didn’t get mad after I shot you.” She responded with semi-seriousness. Fenrir just smiled and rested his head on his palms. “And after I talked your ear off you left before my dad could come home and flip.” She continued. A bout of chest-rattling coughs shook her and cut off her speech. Fenrir stood up and poured a glass of water from a metal pitcher beside her bed that sat on a dainty little desk. He offered the cup to her, but she waved it away. “No, I’m good,” she told him, her grey eyes twinkled up at him and he set the cup back down on the desk. She sat up straighter and folded her hands in front of her, the signal that Fenrir recognized as her way of telling him that she had something important to say. He sighed reluctantly.

“Here we go,” he said in a resigned voice as he sat back down.

“Fen,” She started in softly.

“Hmm?” He responded and rested his elbows on his knees to put his head back on his hands.

“I know, we both know, what’s going to happen, and how you’re going to take it.” Fen broke eye contact. “Look at me,” she ordered and he complied, “I don’t want it to be like that.” She tipped her head closer, “I’m going to die,” She whispered, “and nothing you do can stop that, not now, not ever.” She reached out a small, wrinkled hand to grip his wide wrist. “Before I go. Take a new mission.” Fenrir sat up straighter and gave a cheesy salute.

“What is your mission, oh supreme leader.” He said in a somewhat lighter tone, the corner of Mary’s mouth twitched, but the mood was easily dampened.

“I want you to find someone else, make them your new mission. Find someone young so they will keep you on your toes and live long enough to grow close. Not another old geezer like me, sitting in this hospital bed with nothing better to do than talk of the good old days.” Fenrir sighed and leaned way back in his chair. “Just try,” Mary implored him.

“All right,” he grumbled, “I’ll try.” He looked away again. “I found a serpisoud’s trail a few miles off from here.” He said before Mary could proceed to lecture him. She crinkled her eyebrows.

“Is that the donkey-looking deer thing with paws and a crooked neck?” She asked, settling back as well. Fenrir nodded.

“They can be troublesome, you know, eating children, killing livestock, the works.”

“Yeah, I remember, you’ve told me about them before. I’ve never actually seen one though.”

“There’s not many left, they have that sort of diet that get on people’s nerves so naturally they were mostly killed off a long time ago. The ones left usually stay underground. They’re not native to this region either, beats me how this one came here from Australia to Minnesota. Anyway, I’ll follow it around and keep it from most trouble.”

“I sure hope so,” Mary yawned sleepily in the middle of speaking, “ we don’t need that sort of thing out here.”

Fenrir nodded and watched her, she seemed to be getting more and more tired each day.

* * *

Kathy Allister was slicing up apples for her daughters in the large kitchen of their sizable two-story house. That was the one thing she insisted their new home must have when they moved up here, a good kitchen. She placed the slices on a dinner plate and poured some honey on the side.

“Girls, snacks!” She called up the stairs. There was an immediate reaction as two young children came barreling down the stairs. The messier girl with baggy camo pants and a black t-shirt skipped down the steps taking two at a time and clutching a large paper hat on her head. The second was identical to the first except for her purple skirt, glasses, and overall neatness, she also had a paper hat on her head, tilted at an awkward angle. “What do we have here,” their mother asked excitedly.

“Pirates,” the first, named Harper, said simply, snatching an apple piece.

“Oh, you’re pirates,” Kathy commented, the girl wrinkled her nose.

“No, we’re sailors, we fight the pirates.” She corrected.

“She’s a sailor,” the second girl, who was called River, further elaborated, “I’m the captain, see?” she lifted a side of her skirt to show a tree pin attached to the hem.

“Yes, I see, my mistake,” Kathy responded. She always enjoyed watching her kids and their crazy adventures. Their imagination always amazed her. “Can captains and sailors have a snack?” She set the plate on the dinner table and let the two sisters munch away. Kathy climbed up the stairs to take a look at their rooms. She had commanded them to clean them up before they played and managed to coerce them to do it, now she had to see how badly they had messed them up.

Surprisingly, both girls’ rooms were unmarred by their rampant play-acting. Confused, Kathy continued looking. She gave a small, rueful grin when she stepped into her husband’s office. Two opposing lines of stuffed animals faced off with several other toys scattered around the room in strange places. She heard the back door in the kitchen slam and small voices shout in joy outside. She walked down the stairs and watched her offspring running like mad underneath the trees. It was a gorgeous Canadian summer and the outdoors called to every young child with its tantalizing breeses, bringing on the scents of new life. Kathy sighed and wished she could allow the girls more time to explore their new yard, but the sun was just starting to set and they needed to clean up their mess in the office before their father got home.

Oh, well, five more minutes. She conceded as the two seven-year-old girls attempted to climb a wide and stately chestnut tree.

Later that night as the kids had donned their pajamas and were brushing their teeth, they narrated the adventures of the day to their mother. The pirates had abandoned their attempt at robbing the ship and a giant volcano had erupted, turning the sea into a rock and stranding their ship. Their father had come home before they had finished cleaning the office and had to help them prepare for bedtime. Mr. Shaun Allister was a researcher and professor of science at Winnipeg University, an accomplished fellow with a strong taste for neatness and reason, but was also kind and fair, one who could admit when he was wrong.

“Why does dad have to work in the summer?” River asked with her toothbrush still in her mouth.

“Our teachers don’t have to work in the summer,” Harper stated.

“The college has a summer semester, so dad works in the summer to teach all those guys and girls,” Kathy explained to her kids.

“Oh,” was River’s only reply. Harper winked at her and they both giggled.

“Do you two have ants in your pants?” Kathy asked, putting her hand on her hips. “You’re more wiggly than a worm on a hook.” The girls shook their heads conspiratorially. “Then get going to bed,”

For once the girls listened to that particular command and skittered off to their separate rooms, their only request for the new house. That and a small opening to connect the two rooms. Shaun had cut a small hole, large enough only for the girls to crawl through, in the wall that split the two spaces and covered the cavity with a miniature door. Kathy wondered what the use of having two different bedrooms was if you were just going to join them together again, but she soon realized why the twins had been so adamant about their request. River had decorated her walls with letters from her friends, written in nearly unintelligible second-grader scrawl, and a beautifully patterned quilt that she had fallen in love with. Her bed was covered in a deep violet bedspread and had a rack of baskets beside it that held her several stuffed animals. Harper, on the other hand, had completely covered her walls with crayon scribble drawings of wolves and scenic paintings she had done herself, she wasn’t all that bad of an artist either, for a seven-year-old. Her stuffed animals were scattered on her firetruck red blanket and sheets, each in a particular position that Harper dubbed her army. Beside the head of the bed on the frame there was a small, sheathed hunting knife stuck in the crack between the sideboard and the mattress. Kathy hadn’t been too pleased about giving a knife to such a young child, but Harper had only wanted two things for her birthday. And Christmas. And the birthday and Christmas before that. A dog or a knife. She got the knife.

With the tiredness that only comes from being a mother, Kathy made her way to the master bedroom. The still, Canadian summer night was calming to her exhausted mind. She decided to call it a night, there would be nothing more to do until the morning.

In the girls’ rooms, there was just the exact opposite energy. Tiptoeing from her bed, Harper held her breath slightly, trying to be as stealthy as possible. She inwardly winced at her popping ankles and the creaking of the floorboards, wondering if her parents downstairs could hear every noise. Apparently not, as there was no sign of them coming up to check on her, so Harper continued her escapade to the hobbit-sized door in the wall. She opened it slowly and peered into her sister’s room. The covers were pulled up over River’s head and light emitted from under them. River was staying up to read, again. Harper crawled across the floor to her sibling’s bed and gently tugged at the blanket. There was a muffled yelp from underneath them and River pulled her head out, her purple-framed glasses laid crooked on the end of her nose.

“Not yet,” She hissed to her overeager twin, Harper sat beside the bed with a restless air, “you have to be patient. We leave at midnight.” River turned back to her book, The Hardy Boys book 2: The House On The Cliff. Harper twisted herself to see what she was reading. “Check your bag, see if you have everything,” River whispered to her, shoving her away from the bed. Harper fell on the floor listlessly and just laid there.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“I already did,” She grumbled back.

“Go back to bed,” River ordered and Harper rolled on her back, “we’ll make too much noise if you stay here. If mom finds us we’ll never make it out.” Reluctantly, Harper crawled back through the door and back onto her bed. She decided to take after her sister and pulled out her own Hardy Boys book and a pair of black framed glasses. She pulled a small flashlight out of her black satchel that lay at the foot of her bed and snuggled under the blankets. Harper could read for hours on end but found herself checking her clock every few minutes, so she eventually just stopped coming out, despite the temptation.

The lights on the digital alarm clock slowly shifted and after what seemed like an eternity, it was 11:57. Harper did one last quick rummage through her bag to make sure she had her knife, the flashlight, a bandana, her Daring Book for Girls, a ball of twine, and a ziplock full of crackers. River slipped through the side door into Harper’s room, she had her own bag. They solemnly waited the last few minutes in the dark before slinking into the hallway. The house was just light enough to make out the outline of the stairs, but still dark enough for them to feel nervous about climbing down them. They didn’t dare risk the flashlight while they were still in their home. Carefully, the girls slid down the steps. They crossed the large kitchen and unlocked the back door. With bated breath, they stepped onto the back patio.

After they shut the door behind them they were flooded with euphoria. The sense of

adventure, of being in a dark new place with no one to hold them back, was almost overwhelming. Now free to do as they pleased, they pulled out their flashlights from their matching satchels and shone the lights over the lawn. Running now, they fled into the trees, their young hearts beating fast, the darkness, not an oppressing force, became a new friend, eager to show them the secrets of the woods in a new view. Instead of a daunting ominous silence, the forest was filled with new and original sounds, the croaking of distant bullfrogs, the sing-song hum of crickets, and the shockingly loud hoots of owls. River gripped Harper’s hand, trying to slow her down, but Harper couldn’t be repressed. She dragged her more hesitant sister deeper into the woods, down an old trail that had been beaten into the forest floor by unknown shoes. It was only a few minutes before the girls stopped to look at their surroundings more closely.

“You’re sure you know how to get back,” River asked.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harper assured her, “we’ve been running towards the moon along this path, so if we walk with our backs to it we should be home in no time.” Harper prided herself on her sense of direction and ability to figure out how to get places, especially places she shouldn’t be. She grinned confidently at her twin.

The midnight air fueled their excitement as they daringly strayed from the path every so often, just to return a minute later. River stayed close to Harper as they dashed about, shone their lights into knotholes, and inspected the few insects that crawled around the foliage. Harper pulled out her knife to prod at an irritated spider when she heard the soft crunch of leaf litter being crushed by a soft step behind her. At first, she thought it was River, but then her sister grabbed her arm.

“Stop torturing the poor bug,” River ordered Harper. She was standing directly in front of her.

Harper whirled around and raised her flashlight, the move that probably saved her life. The beam momentarily stunned the donkey-like face that had been practically sniffing Harper’s neck. On instinct, Harper slashed at the animal with her knife. The blade sliced across the creature’s lip and left a deep gash. The beast pulled back its head and bared its lethal teeth to let out a pained howl. River was too scared to move, but Harper grabbed her and dragged her through the trees, finding the path and running down it, away from the creature, and she didn’t even realize she was heading deeper into the woods instead of towards the house. A scream tore from her throat as she heard the animal bearing down on them. She knew it was gaining, but she didn’t stop running, one hand holding the flashlight, the other with the knife and River’s wrist. They both heard the sound of running water as they took a turn in the bend, only to see a small canyon carved deep into the earth, formed by years and years of flowing water, wearing down the soil until the drop was too deep to attempt a jump. Harper and River managed to tumble to a stop and turn around to face the animal. They shone their lights into the approaching monster’s eyes as it loped around the bend of the path and trotted unhurriedly at the children. They gaped at it, horrified. The creature had a crooked neck that twisted on itself grotesquely and stilt-like legs that ended in dainty paws. The creature slowed as it neared the children, it shook its small antlers and sniffed the air as if deciding whether the kids were worth another cut on the face. It decided they were as it suddenly charged. Harper pulled River behind her and screamed again as she raised her knife.

A blur hit the animal from the side and sent it sprawling. Both the creature and the blur disappeared into the woods and left a suffocating behind them, broken only by the happy burbling of the brook and the panting of the girls. Harper was the first one to move. She retook her sister’s hand and tried to lead her down the path. River stayed rooted to the spot, not willing to move.

“Come on, come on,” Harper growled and tugged her away, following the trail. She got about ten paces down before she spotted the second creature. Fenrir stared back at the children, fully aware of his extended biological weaponry, as well as a trickle of the serpisoud’s blood in the corner of his mouth. He was about to slowly back away from the frightened children and let them sort themselves out when a bright, glowing missile shot forward and hit him square in the forehead. He paused and cocked his head, giving the girl who had hucked her flashlight at him a vaguely disappointed look. Harper kept her hand extended after she threw her torch, wondering what to do next.

“I just,” Fenrir started, then decided to change the direction of the conversation, “what, exactly were you going to do after that?”

“I don’t know,” Harper quickly stated and continued to gaze wide-eyed at him. She then slowly crouched down and felt around on the forest floor for something. Her small hand felt a decent-sized rock somewhere beside her feet and she closed her fist around it. River noticed what her sister was about to try.

“Wha- no!” She hissed to her, grabbing the other girl's shoulder, “don’t make him any madder!” Harper lifted the stone. “No, no, no,” River continued to command. Harper hesitated, then lowered the large pebble down. “Now leave it alone, and-,” she was abruptly cut off by Harper jumping to her feet and hurling the stone at Fenrir. He didn’t even flinch as it bounced harmlessly off his shoulder. “Argh!” River exclaimed and ran her hands over her face in frustration. Harper turned around to face her. “What the heck was that?!” River nearly shouted.

“We’ve talked about this before,” Harper stated.

“Talked about what?” River shot back. Now it was Harper’s turn to roll her eyes in exasperation.

“You were supposed to run. That was the plan, I distract him, and you run the other way, remember?” Harper explained, waving around her hands to add emphasis.

“And just what, exactly, was your plan after that?”

Harper turned back to the giant, sabertoothed demon-like thing who was watching them with the interest of examining bickering monkeys at the zoo. She leaned close to River’s ear.

“I can take him,” she whispered.

“No, YoU cAn’T!” River shrieked. Fenrir threw his head back and cracked up. Harper scowled at his laughter, but River, still fuming, didn’t have the capacity to be annoyed with anything besides Harper at the moment.

Eventually, Fenrir regained control over himself and looked back at the children. River was clenching her jaw and facing Harper with her fingers pinched together and shaking them at her sister. Harper had her arms crossed, still glaring at Fenrir, with her dagger held tightly. He softly grinned at them but, hid it by wiping the small stream of blood from the corner of his mouth. He relaxed, and, in a moment, he changed back into a more normal version of himself. He crouched down to get eye-level with the girls.

“Perhaps you two should skedaddle back home, if that is, you know how to get back.” He told the twins. River, bringing herself back around, pushed her glasses up her nose to get a better look at him. She exchanged glances with Harper.

“What if you’re like, I don’t know, like a bad guy?” She asked him tentatively.

“Like you’re gonna take us somewhere in the forest and kill us,” Harper added.

“If I wanted that, I wouldn’t have protected you.” He responded. He watched another mental exchange between the girls as they weighed the pros and cons. On one hand, he could end up hurting them, on the other hand, there were other monsters in the forest that would definitely want to hurt them. Eventually, River guided Harper forward and stood before him. Harper hung back a bit more, not willing to get too close and keeping her knife defensively raised.

“I’m River, River Allister,” she introduced herself, “and this is my sister.”

“I’m Harper,” the other reluctantly agreed.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Fenrir said as solemnly as he could, “my name is Fenrir.” River wrinkled her nose in confusion.

“You’re named after a mythological wolf?” She asked.

“Very good, you’d be shocked at how many people don’t get it,” Fenrir replied, more than a little surprised, “but make no mistake,” he continued, “he was named after me.”

* * *

Back at their house Harper and River stood in their parent’s room as they finished their tale. They waited for their parent’s reactions. They had both decided that the first thing to do when they got home was to tell on themselves. They might get in trouble, but at least their parents would know what to do about the monsters that plagued the grounds, right?

“Are you sure you two haven’t dreamt the whole thing?” Shaun asked tiredly.

“Honey, they even have dirt on their shoes.” Kathy pointed out. “They have been outside. They had to have.” There was another silent moment.

“Well,” Shaun started again, “I’m very disappointed in you for leaving the house like that in the middle of the night. Although I’m glad you told us quickly.”

“What about Fenrir? What are you going to do about him?” Harper asked.

“Sweetheart, we don’t know.” Kathy told her, “you know no monster man is running around the forest, that’s like believing in bigfoot or the boogieman.”

“We still don’t know who that is,” River said plainly.

“The point is, he’s imaginary, like in one of your games,” Kathy explained.

“But, he was so real, we saw him, and heard him.” Harper insisted.

“Your imagination always seems so much more real when it’s dark, your mind can play tricks on you. Right honey?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah it can, especially when it’s late.” Shaun yawned. The twins looked at each other.

“But, we-” River stopped, their parents always seemed so smart. She thought they knew everything.

“Say it, say he’s not real,” Kathy said patiently. The girls stayed quiet. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Do you have to hear those words exactly?” Harper tried.

“Let me hear them.”

River hung her head and mumbled under her breath.

“What was that?” Kathy tipped her head up.

“He’s not real,” River whispered.

“He’s not real,” Harper echoed, still confused.

“That’s my good girls,” Kathy smiled at them, “now go to bed, we’ll decide what to do in the morning, as well as find your flashlight, Harper.”

Without further ado, the girls trudged unprotestingly up to their bedrooms. Harper shut herself in and pulled off her dusty shoes. She hadn’t changed clothes when she had left for the woods so she didn’t need to put her pajamas back on. She was climbing into her bed when she noticed something resting on her pillow. She lifted it and turned it on. It was her silver flashlight.