Ralphie followed Nigel and Benson through the winding rows of buildings of the encampment. Blanka’s ragged breathing was the only sound that broke the tense silence, her blood leaving a grim trail in their wake.

“The infirmary,” Benson said, pointing to a small ramshackle building.

The space was little more than a storage room, a few cots shoved against the walls and a battered metal cabinet that presumably held the village’s meager medical supplies. Ralphie’s heart sank as he took in the dismal surroundings.

“Put her on that empty cot,” Benson instructed, already rummaging through the cabinet. He emerged with a tattered roll of bandages and a bottle of what looked like rubbing alcohol.

Nigel gently laid Blanka down, his face etched with worry. “Hang in there, my love.”

Ralphie hovered nearby, not sure what to do next. He watched as Benson peeled back the torn fabric of Blanka’s shirt, revealing the ragged puncture wounds where the wolf’s fangs had sunk into her flesh. Ralphie swallowed hard, his stomach churning at the sight.

“We need to clean and dress those wounds,” Benson said, dousing a wad of bandages with the alcohol. “Boy, come hold her down. This is going to hurt like the devil.”

Ralphie hurried to Blanka’s side, pressing his hands against her shoulders as Benson began to dab at the wounds. Blanka’s back arched, a scream escaping her lips as the alcohol seared her torn flesh.

“Easy, easy,” Nigel soothed, his voice strained. “You’re doing great, love.”

Ralphie gritted his teeth, using every ounce of his strength to hold Blanka still as Benson worked. By the time the old man had finished cleaning the wounds, Ralphie’s arms were trembling with exertion, and Blanka’s face was slick with sweat and tears.

“Right, now for the bandages,” Benson said, reaching for the tattered roll.

Ralphie’s heart sank as he examined the bandages. They were stained and frayed, looking far from sterile. “Wait,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “Those bandages aren’t clean. You can’t use those on an open wound like that.”

Benson glared at him. “You got a better idea, boy?”

Ralphie faltered for a moment, then his eyes lit up as a memory surfaced. “Actually, I do.” He turned to Nigel, his expression earnest. “Remember that trick I learned in the Scouts? For sterilizing bandages?”

Nigel’s brow furrowed, and then understanding dawned. “Of course. The boiling water trick.”

“Exactly.” Ralphie turned back to Benson. “Do you have a pot or something we can boil water in?”

The old man looked skeptical but jerked his head towards a battered kettle in the corner. “That’ll do, I reckon.”

Ralphie snatched up the pot and hurried out of the infirmary. He found a bucket, scooped a pale of water.

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Where am I going to boil this water?

Everywhere he looked, there was nothing. A flicker of light caught his eye. Several moments later, he commandeered a cook’s small fire pit. He put the bucket directly on the coals. He winced as a hissing sound emanated as some of the water spilled on the flame. Luckily, the coals were not fully doused. Ralphie found some twigs to add to the flame. Further stoking the fire. Several minutes later, the water bubbled furiously. Careful not to spill the boiling water, he carried the steaming liquid back to the infirmary.

I hope I’m not too late.

No sooner than Ralphie entered the shack, Benson snatched the pot, wincing as the scalding liquid burned his bare skin. He dropped a tattered roll of bandages into the kettle. After a few moments of sterilizing the cloth, Benson fished out the bandages with tongs and laid them out on a clean surface to cool. “There, good as new.”

Nigel clapped him on the shoulder, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Well done, little brother.”

With the sterile bandages ready, Benson dressed Blanka’s wounds, winding the crisp white cloth around her shoulder and torso. Ralphie watched, his heart in his throat, as the old man worked with surprising tenderness. Benson sat back with a grunt, wiping his brow.

“That’s the best I can do for now,” he said. “Blanka’s a lot of blood, but the wounds aren’t too deep. With rest and changing her bandages regularly, she should pull through.”

Ralphie let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him in waves. Nigel pulled Blanka into his arms, holding her close.

“Thank you. We owe you,” Nigel said.

Benson waved a dismissive hand, but Ralphie could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile flicker across the weathered man’s face.

As Nigel carried Blanka out of the infirmary, Benson fell into step beside Ralphie. “Walk with me, boy,” he said, his voice low.

Ralphie shot a glance at Nigel, who signaled his permission before following the old man out into the cool night air.

“I owe you an apology,” Benson began, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. When you first arrived, I’ll admit I was skeptical. I thought you were just another group of drifters looking for a handout.

Ralphie opened his mouth to protest, but Benson held up a hand, silencing him.

“But you proved me wrong tonight,” the old man continued. “You and your brother have a fire in your bellies. A willingness to fight for what’s right, no matter the cost.” He turned to face Ralphie, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “We could use more folks like that around here.”

Ralphie swallowed hard, humbled by the weight of Benson’s words. “Thank you, sir,” he managed. “We’re just trying to do the right thing.”

Benson nodded, his expression grave. “Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you, that’s for damn sure. That wolf didn’t just wander in here by accident.”

A chill ran down Ralphie’s spine. “What do you mean?”

“That was no ordinary wolf, boy. It was bigger than any I’ve ever seen and far too bold. It was smarter, too—like it knew what it was doing,” Benson said.

Ralphie felt a knot of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. “You think it was…?”

“Unnatural?” The old man cut him off. “Aye, that’s what I think. We’ve got bigger problems than just a few mangy strays sniffing around.”

Ralphie digested this, his mind whirling. If Benson was right, if that wolf had been something more than a mere animal…

“We’ll need to scout the area come first light,” Benson continued, as if reading his thoughts. “See if we can’t find the source of whatever foul magic is at work here.”

Ralphie nodded, his jaw set with determination. “Count us in. We’ll help however we can.”

A ghost of a smile played across Benson’s weathered features. “I thought you’d say that.” He slapped Ralphie on the shoulder. “Get some rest, boy. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

As Ralphie made his way back to the shelter he shared with Nigel and the others, his mind was racing. He couldn’t shake the image of that wolf, its feral eyes glinting with intelligence that went beyond mere animal cunning.

Whatever dark forces were at work here, one thing was sure: they would need to be prepared for anything. Ralphie’s grip tightened on the pipe he still carried, the metal cool and reassuring in his hand.

In the morning they would face this threat head-on. Together.