A silver minivan drove leisurely down the winding mountain road. Inside, the Alister girls gazed at the burred trees. Their punishment for the night of adventure was a week of indoor confinement and a visit to their senile, aging aunt. The sisters hated visiting auntie, she and her house always smelled like steamed broccoli, and because she lived so far out from civilization, it took a tedious road trip through the twisty countryside roads. The scenery for the drive was pleasant enough and provided apt diversity to keep the children’s interest. Still, the lengthy drive stretched out their dread of arriving at their foreboding destination. As the metallic car cruised into the narrow gravel driveway, Harper and River exchanged resigned looks.

“Best behavior,” Their mother reminded them as they pulled to a stop. The girls, including their mother, each put on a plastic-looking smile as they unbuckled and opened the doors. Auntie was already outside in bare feet, smiling like Christmas just came. She was a short, frizzy-looking woman with the widest glasses. The wiry lady wrapped her slick, black hair in a tight bun that stretched back her thin eyebrows. She squealed as the twins walked courageously toward her. She grabbed them and squashed them against her.

“Oh, my dearies!” She said in a fast-paced voice that sounded like she had just inhaled a pint of caffeine. That was another thing about the twins’ aunt; she always had something to say, usually about fifty-thousand of them. “Welcome, welcome, welcome, oh, welcome, we have so much to do! InfactI’vejustbeenbakingsomebreadthekindwithrasins-”

“Hello, Mable,” Kathy said patiently to her overeager sister-in-law.

“Hello, Kathy, good morning, well, noon, come inside! Come,” She guided her relatives to her small brick house. Harper and River inwardly groaned.

They sat on the beige sofa in the living room of Auntie’s house and listened to the high-pitched rambling from Mable’s mouth as they supposedly waited for the bread to finish baking. The twins watched the digital timer on the oven slowly tick away the seconds and minutes. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the fluffy mounds were baked.

“Here we go, whoopsie!” Mable announced as she pulled the sweet bread out of her wide oven. She placed it near an open window to cool off. “See, me personally; I don’t think anything smells better than freshly baked sweetbread.” River peered over the bread tins through the window. A dilapidated tin shed sat in the yard yonder.

“Hey, mom, can we go explore that old shed?” She asked her mother.

“Well,” Kathy began, but Auntie Mable interposed.

“Splendid idea, what a capital plan. I used to do the same thing when I was younger than you. I would take baby Shaun out and climb over the old machine parts papa kept there.” She giggled and went on, but River and Harper were already scampering out, satisfied that mom couldn’t keep them grounded if Auntie pinned her down. Maybe there was a use for the tiring woman after all.

“Good call,” Harper said to her sister.

The run-down structure looked like an ancient double doored garage with a corroded old car sitting on the left side. The vehicle was so rusted over the girls hadn’t even a clue what the original color might be. Odds and ends of antiquated tools and parts were scattered here and there, along with an old bird's nest resting on a beam in the wall. River trotted over to the nest and examined it with a careful eye. On the other hand, Harper walked over to a thick truck chain coiled on the floor in a heap. Each link was two fingers wide, and a massive hook was attached to one of the ends. Harper picked up the curve. The chain was shockingly heavy and not nearly as rusted as everything else in the ramshackle shop. The cogs in her little seven-year-old brain began twisting.

“Do birds sometimes return to a nest that they abandoned the year before?” River asked curiously and looked around. “Harper,”

“Huh,” she responded, still thinking.

“I asked if birds can return to abandoned nests,” River repeated.

“Oh, I don’t know, come here.”

“What,” River asked as she walked over.

“You know what we could do with this?”

“What,”

“A trap,”

“What,”

“A trap, we can trap Fenrir.” Harper’s brown eyes gleamed like they always did when a crazy plot hatched in her mind. “I know mom says he’s not real, but he’s real enough to see and feel, so he must be real enough to trap. We can rig up some sort of snare with this, we just need some bait, and we’ll put this in the woods so we can catch him.” River looked skeptical, as she always did when Harper began a far-fetched scheme. But, eventually, she would grin along. She usually did, anyway.

“This will be great,” she told Harper, “how will we get this home?”

“Let’s put it in the minivan trunk now. That way, mom won’t know we have it.”

The dynamic duo heaved up the chain and struggled, pulling the burdensome links along. They snuck under the open window, smelling the glorious scent of the sweet buns, and lugged it down the driveway. With much labor, they struggled to place the chain in the back of the car. After that ordeal, they returned to the shed, discussing their master plan.

“We’ll use that massive fir tree about 15 paces off the trail. The one that we wanted to build a human-sized nest in, we can make the nest later.“ Harper grinned as she scrambled up one of the beams in the shed’s wall.

“What’ll we use as bait?” River asked inquisitively. Harper swung back and forth on the beam.

“Mr. Branches.” She replied simply.

“We are not using Mr. Branches as bait!” River responded vehemently.

“Well, we need something that looks like that mule deer that chased us.”

“A mule deer is an actual species of deer, Harper.”

“I know that, but what else are we going to call the thing that chased us.”

River huffed at Harper’s line of reasoning.

“Mr. Branches is not bait.” She uttered. Harper dropped down from the bar to negotiate.

“Would you rather use Mrs. Branches?” She questioned shrewdly.

“Mrs. Branches is with child!” River gasped. “Mr. Branches is going to be a father.”

“There has to be a sacrifice from one of them.”

“Use your stuffed animals.”

“I don’t have any deer.”

“Well, you’re not going to use one of mine!”

The argument went on for quite some time. They were still arguing when Kathy came out to the shed and announced that they had spent enough time away from their chores and needed to get home. They argued in the car almost halfway through the ride home when their mother asked them what they were bickering about, which shut them up for the time being. Kathy wondered what had gotten into the twins. They had disagreed before, but the quarrel was short-lived each time, with one party quickly realizing she was in the wrong. It was rare for any feud to last up to 10 minutes. Harper and River couldn’t wait to get out as the small van pulled into their driveway. They wordlessly fled the vehicle and retreated to their respective rooms. They each sat on their separate beds, thinking the predicament over. The spark of adventure glowed in their minds, the concept of capturing the beast that had rescued them. River thought that maybe it wasn’t fair to try to catch him. After all, he hadn’t done anything to them besides help. But her promise that she'd release him swiftly dispelled that notion. The more they thought, the stronger their resolve became to trap their new acquaintance. The only problem was that River was still unwilling to allow her precious Mr. Branches to be the lure.

Later in the day, the sun began its travels into the underworld when Harper crawled into River’s room. She sat by the other’s bed and tapped the floor. She then finally looked up at River.

“We can find a different bait if we need to,” Harper spoke, “I could, maybe, leave out Sir Xavier. He’s been through a lot. He can take it.” That was Sir Xavier Flufflebuff Duffer, her one-eyed jaguar. River sighed.

“No, I don’t think that would work. Mr. Branches is the only one we know Fenrir will go for. It has to be him.” She gazed over to the 3-foot-long stag that sat with his doe at the end of her bed. “I don’t think he will mind too much if we keep a close eye on him and ensure he’s fine.” Harper nodded eagerly.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“When do you think we should start?” She asked.

“Next week, we’re still grounded. Even if we got off easy at Auntie’s,”

“Yikes, we forgot to take the chain out of the trunk!”

The children did manage to hide the chain behind the house the next day, and the minute their mother had decreed their term of penalty was complete, they were heaving it through the yard. Their short, 7-year-old legs and arms were doing their best to cope with the weight of the metal links. They huffed as they slowly made their way down the path to the massive fir tree.

The construction of the snare went like this, Harper climbed up the trunk of the evergreen with the hooked side of the chain looped over one shoulder. River did her best to support her from the ground, but there wasn’t much she could do about the weight of the chain. Harper did manage to reach a credible height off the ground, though. The hooked side of the chain was thrown over a limb and lowered to the ground. There, River took the end and made a loop, fixing the hook through one of the links. With the coil on the ground, she carefully placed Mr. Branches in the middle. With a grin of satisfaction, Harper shimmied down the tree and landed with a thump beside her sister. She supposed that their new imprisonment device was infallible.

“Now what?” She asked.

“We wait,”

The waiting proved to be the most demanding and tedious task they had accomplished so far. They originally hung around the snare site, but after a good few hours River pointed out that there was no guarantee that Fenrir would ever show up, and there was no point in wearing themselves to a frazzle. She suggested that they let the trap be and check it every so often. Their definition of every so often turned out to be every five minutes.

* * *

“You need to stop bringing me these,” Mary chastized Fenrir as she bit into a cranberry scone, “too much sugar, probably. I suppose you’ll be wanting one.”

“How gracious of you.” He commented as he picked one from the box he had brought along for his visit.

“Sharing is good,” she replied, licking the sweet crumbs from her finger. She gave him a sideways glance, “a lesson a lot of people need to learn.”

“I share,” Fenrir stated in a mock hurt tone.

“That wasn’t what I was trying to say.” She mentioned.

“Sure,” he laughed.

“I was just wondering if you’ve been making any new… acquaintances. No, no, don’t do that.” She admonished, “the head tilt thing. You know it’s confusing.”

“I have friends,” he said.

“No, you don’t,” she responded flatly. He scowled.

“Here,” she uttered in a lighter voice. She lifted the box of the remaining scones, “use these. People love getting treats.”

“No, those are for you,” he began, then saw the two small treats left in the corner on the package.

“Come on, take them. I shouldn’t have so many, even if you eat them all.”

He slowly took the box from her with a guilty look.

“You’ll find a use for them.” She assured him.

* * *

“We’ll be outside,” Harper called. The sandy-haired teenage girl that lay reclined on the living room sofa didn’t even grunt in acknowledgment as she scrolled through TikTok. Harper rolled her eyes, and River nodded at the gesture. They booked it out the back door and ran straight for the path into the woods. They trotted down with a warm breeze tickling their backs and playing through their shoulder-length dark hair. Mr. Branches stood expectantly in the middle of the chain loop, his eyes wondering where they’d been.

“What’s wrong? Why hasn’t anything happened,” Harper whined.

“He might never come back, Harper,” River consoled her while flicking a bug off her deer. “Or he might only come at night.” She had refused to let Mr. Branches spend the night out unsupervised. Harper bit her lip, wondering how she could weasel River into allowing Mr. Branches to spend a perilous night alone with a forest full of blood-thirsty beasts. “Let’s go to the chestnut tree and talk there. I don’t think Florence will notice if we stay here for a while.”

“I don’t think Florence would notice if a meteor came and blew up the house.” Harper scoffed.

* * *

Fenrir stopped sprinting in the woods outside the itty bitty town called Nettleville. He jogged for a bit, trying to remember his tracks. He searched for half an hour before his ears picked up young voices about a quarter of a mile away. He followed the sound and smiled when he saw the large victorian looking house. These people weren’t too badly off. He found the path he had walked down that night and stood there. The voices came from the large nut tree not too far from the house, but he didn’t immediately head in that direction. He didn’t want them or their parents freaking out and calling the police; he usually tried to avoid such unpleasantries. He walked down the trail as he thought and mused to himself. Not too far down, a metallic shine caught his eye. Off the side of the lane, an evergreen tree had a chain flung over a branch. The limb sagged dangerously under the weight of the chain. On the ground, there was a loop with a stuffed deer in the center, glaring back at him with glittering black eyes. Fenrir grinned widely at the crude snare, it obviously couldn’t pose any threat to anyone with its nieve design, but it was still an honest attempt. Fenrir stepped into the loop and examined it. He picked up the stuffed deer and replaced it outside the circle. He then lifted the coil and unhooked the end. He wrapped himself with the chain, pinning one arm to his side, then fastened the hooked end back on one of the links. He finished the look by sitting down and using his teeth to tie his wrists. He sat there for a second, gripped the chain, and jerked down with enough force to shatter the branch overhead.

The tree's children heard the noise from the forest and immediately bolted down the trunk. They raced inside to let Harper grab her knife, then sprinted back out as fast as they could. With their hearts palpitating hard, they zoomed down the towpath and made it to the fir tree in record time. Harper brandished her knife as they skidded to a halt before Fenrir as he sat cross-legged on the grass.

“Oh dear, you have gotten me.” He said in a highly monotone voice. Harper and River turned to each other with expressions of fierce joy on their faces.

“Finally,” Harper commented, “took you long enough.”

“Harper,” River softly reprimanded.

“Yeah, so,” Fenrir continued, “what are you going to do with me now.”

“We…” Harper trailed off.

“We… hadn’t gotten that far.” River finished.

“But we’ll think of something quick. We’re good at that,” Harper said confidently. Fenrir raised an eyebrow, then tilted his head. Braver now, Harper stepped closer to him. He stared up, a silent conversation passing between the two. River also approached her from the side. She examined him, he seemed to be in good health and uninjured, but with his head to the side, she noticed scar lines across the right side of his neck, deep slash marks repeated across his skin.

“What’re you doing here?” Harper interrogated.

“At first, I was tracking the serpisoud. The thing that attacked you.” He explained.

“Where are you from?”

Fenrir suddenly noticed River looking, and he straightened his head and shrugged his shirt up to cover the blemishes.

“Originally or recently?” He responded.

“Both”

“I was born in Norway, but at the moment, I’m visiting from Minnesota.”

Harper sat down in front of him and stuck her knife blade into the sod.

“Family?” She asked; he gave her a small smile.

“Ah, an aunt. She’s in the hospital, though.”

“Okay, I guess he’s alright, but we should keep an eye on him,” Harper told River, looking up at her. Fenrir ducked his head to hide a flashing smirk of amusement. He looked up at the girls when he had schooled his expression again.

“Does this mean I can get out of these?” He asked, holding up his chained wrists.

Harper looked to River, who shrugged.

“Yeah, sure,” she said, standing up and swiping the pine needles off her backside. “I’ll just-”

Fenrir hopped to his feet, making several loud CLANKs as links split and fell off him. He stood, completely free of his bonds. River took a step back and gaped slightly while Harper stood her ground, laid her head back to look him in the face, and looked supremely ticked off.

“That,” she growled, “is so annoying.” She walked over to the ruined chain and kicked it. “Well, that’s the end of that,” she grumbled.

“Sorry?” Fenrir tried. He felt a tug on his finger and looked down to see River staring up at him with giant, sparkling brown eyes. He marveled at the two, like fire and air, wholly different, yet there could be no separating them. He suddenly remembered the treat he had brought. He pulled a small, slightly squished package of wrapped-up scones and offered it to River. She unwrapped the brown paper and gave him a bright grin. Harper walked over and examined the pastries. She smiled at him as well.

“You’re okay,” she decided.