The boy’s name was Bevin Casey, and he lived with Widow Byrne. From what Aina told me, both of them lost their families to wolf attacks during a cold winter several years ago. If the attacks started with this young man, so would my investigation.

Their home was smaller than Elder Quinn’s, but the style was the same. The foundation rested on massive logs, about a meter above the ground. The thatched roof rose at a steep angle to keep heavy snow from crushing it.

Beside the house, a teenage boy chopped wood with an axe. Brown hair curled around his head, and shook with each swing. The wood cracked in half, and he looked up at me.

“You’re the templar knight who killed the witch aren’t you?” Excitement rose in his voice. I nodded. “Can you teach me how to fight them?”

“There will be none of that young man!” A woman’s voice yelled from inside. A window opened, and a head of golden locks popped out. “It hasn’t even been but a few months, and you’re already looking for more trouble?” Even through the angry tone, I could hear worry at the core of her words.

“You can’t tell me what to do! I’m going to become a knight. I’m going to kill the aes sídhe!” Water welled up around the boys eyes as he turned to me. “Take me with you, I want to become a knight.”

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I’m fourteen.” He fought to hold back the tears, holding his head a little higher.

“Why do you want to kill the aes sídhe?”

“They killed my parents,” he said. “They have killed so many. Death is what the lot of them deserve.”

“A knight’s duty isn’t to pass judgement on evil. Only the gods have that right. Our duty is to protect those around us.” I kept my voice level, even as memories of my own past welled up. Spite and hatred once filled me the same as this boy.

“Then I’ll become a knight to protect the people who need it,” he said.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“The people here need you. You don’t need to be a knight to help out here.” The widow’s face, worried from the moment the window opened, finally softened. Her care for the boy was clear.

“But,” he started. His small shoulders shaking with emotion. “I couldn’t do anything. I tried. I know I hit one. I hit it with my axe, but it didn’t,” his voice trailed off.

Whatever attacked him was definitely aes sídhe. Invulnerable to weapons unless they are made of the right material. Some were weak to cold iron, others could only be harmed by alchemical silver. The boy’s axe was neither.

“Tell me more about what attacked you.”

“They were like wolves, but they were bigger. Their eyes glowed green,” he paused again. The memory wasn’t easy for him, that was clear. “They smiled. Even in the darkness I could see them smile. They enjoyed hunting me.”

The wolves of Osraighe, a group of aes sídhe that could change between human and wolf. Once they were part of the kingdom of Osraighe, but they were wiped out when the Holy Empire unified the region. What few survivors remained formed small packs and avoided the central cities. Many of them deeply resented the empire and attacked small villages.

I assured the young man that I would protect the village, and asked him several more questions about his attack, and why he believed his parents had also been killed by the same creatures years ago. Most of the village believed it was common wolves that killed the hunting party. The only survivor, a man named Weylyn Faolain, ran away in fear before he could see them clearly. There had been no attacks since.

Bevin’s story of the attack made my blood boil. They chased him in circles for over an hour, feeding off his fear. The beasts slowly bled him with cuts all over his body. Finally one sank its teeth into his neck and he lost consciousness. Then, he woke up under Widow Byrne’s care. The healer had brought him to her door late that night, already in stable condition.

The remnants of the Osraighe kingdom weren’t known for leaving people alive. Even after they killed their prey, the clan was known to rip the body apart until only scraps were left. What had stopped the pack from killing the boy? Suspicion towards the healer grew again. There were too many coincidences behind the event. How had a healer stopped a whole pack?

“Thank you for sharing your story. You are very brave for facing that and still wishing to be a knight. Just remember, there is a vast difference between justice and revenge.” I told him.

“I will try sir.”

“Thank you sir knight,” Widow Byrne called. “Perhaps you would like to come inside for a cup of tea?”

Bevin returned to his work of chopping wood and I entered the house. The woman asked me to remove my shoes as I crossed through the doorway. We sat at a table very low to the ground, the tea already prepared.

“I want to thank you for talking to him. The boy is headstrong, and I fear nothing I say reaches him.” A sigh escaped her lips. “It hasn’t been easy raising him. He constantly reminds me I am not his mother.”

“I’m sure he is grateful for all you’ve done.” The small talk continued for a while. Many in the village were relieved that the witch was no more, and glad I survived.

She was happy to answer my questions about the different attacks around the village. With the exception of the boy, all the attacks seemed to be the work of the witch. Small curses afflicted hunters, lumbermen, and their families. All of the victims, including a few more seriously injured people, were taken care of by the mysterious healer.

“We’ve been very fortunate. Every time there was a serious injury, he was always in town to pick up supplies.”