Howls echoed through the night as a hungry pack of Forest Wolves moved through the dense forest towards a fresh kill. This side of the mountain was outside of their territory, normally this pack would stay far away from the reek of a human village, but something seemed to be making these wolves desperate and their desperation made them bold. Hunting was good here and they were close to starving, maybe they would stay for awhile.

Sarah was so scared, but her fear was momentarily replaced by anger as she remembered her brother laughing at her when she told him she had seen a wolf!

For some reason he acted like that a lot lately, like he didn’t believe her when she told him something important. But he’d soak up any made up story someone else told, so why wouldn’t he listen to his own sister? Her daddy listened to her though and wouldn’t let any monsters get them or the village. Weston usually did everything that daddy did, so it didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t listen to her too.

Weston was squeezing her arm so hard that it hurt. She could almost taste the dread radiating off of his body and it fed the spiky ball of fear in the pit of her stomach.

As the beast below released another howl, she closed her eyes and counted to three while focusing on her breathing, just like her father taught her. In those moments the makeshift spear gripped tightly in her small hands felt more like the weapon Sir Gordon had used to slay the dragon in the story, and she pulled strength from it.

When she opened her eyes she felt a measure of control over her emotions and she could see that Weston’s body language had also changed. His frozen fear had been replaced with fiery resolve.

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“We have to get out of here” she heard him whisper, “quietly!”

— — — —

Roland stacked the last pieces of split wood on the pile as he decided that he was finished for the day.

Although he felt like there was never enough time to prepare for winter, it was getting dark and his children were nowhere to be seen.

He was disappointed, but he wasn’t angry. Roland took in a deep breath of cool mountain air, before slowly releasing it and felt his mind calm.

As someone who had tasted a sample of some of the worst that life had to offer, he had to draw lines in the sand that his children were not supposed to cross. But as a father, he wanted his children to not only survive, but to thrive- so he chose to give them a measure of independence.

The small grain of wisdom he had earned over a lifetime of trial and error and years of retrospection on past mistakes, made him confident that in order for his children to succeed, it wasn’t enough for them to be physically strong. They needed to have strength of heart and mind. And that although it was rarely too late for a person to choose such a path, the sooner they did, the less of a burden they might carry upon their shoulders.

Roland felt haunted by the past, and if it was within his power, he wanted his son and daughter to have it better.

In this he considered his role as a father to be that of a guardian rather than a guide, because something within told him that a person must choose their path, instead of being pushed into it. Of course he would still guide his children towards the direction his experience told him was right, but he would do so subtly and without a heavy hand.

He chose to lead by example, trusting that when someone was ready, they would follow.

But that didn’t excuse his children from not doing their chores, and stocking firewood for winter was Weston’s responsibility. But worse than that, he had his sister out in the forest at dusk.

Roland saw potential in both of his children, and he was confident in their strength. But Weston was only 9 with Sarah three summers behind him and Roland knew from experience that the stories people told about monsters in the night were more truth than fiction.

So when he heard a howl in the night, sweat appeared on the grip of the wood cutting hatchet in his hand and he sprinted towards it.