"There was another one last night.” The Sheriff said grimmly through a handlebar mustache as Jeremiah stepped into the dusky office. The air was golden as the afternoon light shown through the shutters.

“Alright then, tell me the details.” Jeremiah said. The Sheriff motioned to him to sit down as he said this. The leather chair squeaking under him.

“It was the farmer out on the west peek of town. A pack of wolves got to him.”

“Wolves you say? I never thought they had a taste for human, nevermind coming into an area full of people.”

“I’m not sure what they were here for” stated the Mayor, “But what I told you was the truth. We found him ripped apart but an animal with the tooth markings of a wolf right outside the lining of woods by his farm. His wife found him.”

“But that’s the third one in two weeks,” rebutted Jeremiah, “Are you sure there isn’t a correlation?”

“I agree that it is a bit odd but all three died a different way. I mean they are all tragic but do you really think a person from this little innocent town pushed Jean Finnican off a cliff, made a snake bite Lourie Gill and set a pack of wolves on farmed Davis?”

“It’s just odd to me that in all happened in such a short time but you are right, tragedies happen.” Jeremiah stood up an walked over to the dust coated shutters. He looked out at the early summer terrain in Alaska. He hoped nothing else bad would happen to the town. “Is that all?”

“Yes, I will call your house if something else comes up.” The Sheriff said this as he turned to folders of paperwork stacked on his desk. Jeremiah gave a weak smile, shut the door and headed home.

The whole town was turned gold by the sun making every building and object have a supernatural glow. Birds flitted over head and sang songs to each other from tree to tree. It was a little chilly but compared to the winters here, it was a heat wave and Jeremiah did not plan on slipping on a jacket of any sorts. The town definitely had a new wind coming through it, he thought as he kicked the pebbles in the gravel sidewalk as he walked. Something was different and the air he breathed tasted less innocent.  

His tired feet eventually lead him home. He lived on the outskirts of town next to a thicket of woods. His long cabin home had a lot in common with him; They were both simple. The cabin was built by Jeremiah's grandfather with the help of himself. It consisted of freshly cut spruce trunks from the surrounding carnivorous forest and cement mud stuck in between. A wreath hung on the front door and the smell of freshly made food wafted out through the windows. His 1967 car sat in the gravel driveway, rusting because it was going on ten years and the only time he used it was when he left town.

He found his dog waiting for him just inside the gate. The dog stood up and tried to stick it’s head through gate to reach Jeremiah as he saw him coming, his tongue sticking out and dripping slobber.

“Hello Campbell. What is new with you?” the dog rolled over onto it’s stomach in anticipation for a stomach rub as Jeremiah came through the gate. He had gotten Campbell when he was just a puppy. A neighbor a couple doors over had had a litter of golden retrievers and said any puppy not taken would be drown. Campbell was the only dog left and even on his worst day, Jeremiah could never hurt anyone or anything which meant leaving the last pup to drown was not an option. “Something smells good don’t it.” Jeremiah got up to walked to the house and Campbell rolled over to follow him inside.

Inside was a beautiful woman cooking in the kitchen. This was his wife, Lillian, who so graciously took him and his quiet self to be her husband. He loved her and loved the marigolds she grew in the front planters and the vegetables she used to cook him stew which grew in the backyard. She was truly the most perfect wife and he wondered on the daily how she ever chose him. Her hair was wavy and the color of the night sky. It fell in long locks perfectly to her mid back. Her cheek bones were high and face symmetrical. He, not so much. His hair was brown but he could never tell if it was actually brown or had been coated by dirt over many days. His nose was a little crooked to the left and his body was skinny, too skinny. His father always called him skelly because of his skeleton like appearance. Either way, he was just happy he found a wife, never mind one of the most beautiful women in town.

She stood by the stove top stirring a vegetable and beef stew. An apple crisp baked in the oven.

“I made your favorite!” He said with a glowing smile. She walked across the room and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“And that is why you are my favorite” he joked.

Lillian did not like to leave the house much. He had asked her many times if she wanted his assistance with finding a job around town to keep her busy during the days when he was off at work but she was content with tending to her gardens in the back and cooking up a new creation each day.

“Any breaking news on the Louri Gill case? I do hope it get solved soon because today while I was weeding the garden, everytime I hear a noise I would Jump. Most of the time is was simply Campbell chasing around a rabbit like he always does but I have just been extra jumpy lately.”

“No nothing of that but a farmer on the Westside was killed last night by a pack of wolves so it may not be such a bad thing to be on high alert.”

Lillian turned around with big dark eyes, “Really?” she questioned, ”Around the town? simply odd. They must be sneaky because I haven’t heard a single howl from them and the noise usually echos around the valley.”

“Perhaps they were just passing”

“Luckily I have my brave little Campbell over here to protect me!” She walked over to the smiling dog and grabbed his face before kissing him on the head. It was obvious the dog loved the attention.

The two ate dinner together at the homemade wooden table Jeremiah had made once upon a time. He felt a lot more comfortable talking to Lillian than most people but still, most of the conversation was simply her talking and him listening intently. Hearing and caring about every word she says, but only replying on rare occasion.

Jeremiah woke that night to the sound of a gunshot and his body soaked in sweat. Around him in his bed a puddle sat. The shot had woken up Lillian too.

“What was that?” She whispered as she sat up on her elbows. He black curls lay in nests around her head.

“Stay here.” He demanded as he threw off his covers and jumped out of bed.

“Please be safe.” She tried to plead Jeremiah but before she could he had slipped on a brown pair of loafers and walked out the bedroom door. His sweat made a v-shape on his back.

He ran out the creaky front door and into the frosty midnight air which met his lungs instantly. The dew on the grass coated his shoes in cold as he ran towards the sound of a shout. His legs felt numb, not from the cold but from the adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins.

“Please, someone!” Someone cried from a block away. They sounded hoarse as if every word was hard to get out. Jeremiah bounded around the last corner to find the local clergy limping out of the edge of the forest by his house, a boy draped across both of his weak, shaking arms.

“My boy!“ He cried again. The boys had lay limp at his side and a hole draining blood sat in the right temple of his forehead. A gun was still grasped tightly in his now stiff right hand. The clergy slowly sank to the ground and dropped the boy onto the already blood stained grass.

“What happened?” Jeremiah asked numbly. He knew there was no point in trying to help the dead boy now.

The clergy buried his head into his son. When he looked up his blood stained tears rolled down his face giving him a unnerving look. “He said he heard voices calling for help from the woods.” The priest sobbed. He kissed the boys forehead over and over.

“Hey, I need you to look at me,” Jeremiah lifted the clergy’s chin up so his manic eyes met his, “Did you hear the voices?”

With the strongest sob yet the priest got out the snot covered word “no.”

The next morning the boy was in the morg and Jeremiah was headed to the court house. His mind was put on autopilot as he went to the sheriff's office, thinking about the blood that ran off of him in the shower last night after he helped carry the boy. Lillian had cut his finger nail’s but little traces of rust color remained under them.

He burst into the sheriff's office, “I want to talk to the Davis’s today.”

“What on earth has got you so eager today. I would have thought being an ambulance on foot last night would have you sleeping in until at least ten.”

“I know but I just have some questions for the family, I want to know what he said before he left the night of his death.”

“Well, I’m guessing it wasn’t anything iportest else we’d hear about it but I guess it would only be professional to follow it up.”

“Is Mr. Davis still in the morgue? And do you have time to take an hour or so off of work?”

“Yes, he’s still there, I don’t think it would hurt me to take a short break either. My eyes feel like they are drifting together.”  Mr. Davis sat at the morgue on a table in a white plastic bag. When the diener unzipped the bag, the smell that met jeremiah's nose almost made him lose the breakfast he never ate. The blood had been cleaned off him but the gashed still torn into his fair skin. His eyes now closed, but his face still seemed to hold a look of discomfort.

“Is it confirmed that is was wolves?” asked Jeremiah.

“It’s confirmed that is was a wolf. I had a specialist in here to look at the bite marks to know how many attacked him, all of the bites match, it was the same wolf. And an unusually large one of that.” answered the Diener.

“But don’t wolves travel in packs?” asked the sheriff.

“Yes, and until now, they were known to only kill if they need food, but Mr. Davis here looks uneaten to me.” the Diener replied again.

That had settled it. Jeremiah and the Sheriff set their feet and curious minds towards the far hill where the rest of the Davis family would be found mourning. They cut through the high prairie grass instead of taking the long winding trail up to the old barn which had been repurposed into a new house. The knocker on the door was made of an old small garden shovel nailed to the old wooden door with string. Jeremiah knocked. Shortly after a woman opened the door. It was not mrs Davis. Her face slightly resembled Mrs. Davis but she was shorter and had flared nostrils. This must be her sister, he thought.

“Can I help you” she seemed to realize how rude she was after she said but Jeremiah guessed it was from the stress she was under.

“Hi yes, my name is Jeremiah Carter and this is Sheriff Van Hudson. I’m a police here in town and I was wondering if I could speak to Mrs. Davis?”

The lady turned around and yelled into the house “Shelly, you have a visitor” she turned back to Jeremiah, “Come on in, she’ll be just a minute.”

They entered. The barn was newly refurbished inside with shining hardwood floors and a high ceiling. The lady lead them to a table that held multiple bouquets of flowers. Shortly after Mrs. Davis came out of her room. Her eyes shown red and traces of tears still glistened in her blood shot eyes.

“Hello,” Jeremiah said awkwardly shaking Mrs. Davis's hand, then shaking the Sheriff's hand. Jeremiah was about to ask her how she was doing but he thought he knew the answer. Her husband died only two nights ago. “I know this is very recent and the wound is no were healed yet but I was wondering if we could ask a couple questions about the night your husband died?” Questioned Jeremiah.

She nodded her head faintly. He noticed two little kids coloring in a small table in the far corner.

“Did your husband say anything the night he left the house?”

Mrs. Davis sniffled, “I was washing dishes. He was putting the kids to bed when he left the house. He told me he’d be right back.”

“And did you hear him get attacked?” asked the Sheriff.

Tears started to glisten once again in her eyes, “I heard him yell, yes.”

“And did you see the wolves?” The questioning went back to Jeremiah.

“No, by the time I got out there he was already bleeding out and the wolves were gone.”

“And where was he when he was attacked?”

“Well his footsteps lead up into the outskirts of the woods, they then turn around and when I found him he was only about one hundred feet from the barn.”

“Why would he go up into the woods if the farm is all in a different area?”

“I don’t know,” she said starting to fall apart, “He just said he’d be back”

“And at any point did you hear a wolf howl or bark?”

“No” she started to sob again.

The stout lady cut in, “oh isn’t that enough! Give her a break.”

“Just take it easy,” the Sheriff agreed quietly.

“I truly am sorry Mrs. Davis, I just have one more question and then I promise my exit.” She nodded and choked back some tears, “Did your husband have any big or irrational fears?”

“What does that have to do with any of this! He was attacked by wolves!”

“Mhm, but can you answer the question?” Jeremiah asked. She gave him a glare.

“He did in fact have an irregular fear of wolves or if you are going to be any more weird about it, a fear of werewolves. When he was little his father enjoyed filling his head with useless stories to scare the kid so he wouldn’t run too far off on their old farm. That one always seemed to stick with him.”

Jeremiah breathed in deeply. Thoughts swam around his head. “Thank you”, he concluded with, “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

The woman glared at him and the Sheriff once again. They were about to leave when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to find one of the little girls from the corner looking up at him.

“I have to tell ya something” she said between gapped teeth, “daddy was getting done tucking us in when he asked if we heard something coming from outside. He said it sounded like little children calling from help. Please help him” she said also tearing up.

“I’ll try my best,” Jeremiah said heartbroken as he bent down to kiss the little girl on the top of her head.

Once outside the house Jeremiah and the Sheriff both turned and looked at each other with surprised faces. The facts simply didn’t add up. Mrs. Davis heard her husband yell but she did not hear nor see a wolf and why on earth had Mr.Davis ventured off towards the edge of the woods when the rest of his farm sat the opposite way?

“I have a theory Sheriff,” Said Jeremiah, “and before I say it, I do recognize how much of a lunatic I sound like. But I think these deaths are not just coincidence.” He gave the sheriff a sy stare, expecting at any moment for him to burst into laughter but it never came.

“I agree as well that these deaths occurred in an unnatural compound of time but what is your reasoning?”

“A werewolf sir, Mr. Davis said that was Mr. Davis’s greatest fear, and his body at the diner at the morgue said all the bite marks belonged to simply one wolf. Jean Finnican died of a fall of a cliff, everyone in this small town knows that Jean was deathly afraid of heights, why would she go on a hike up a part of a mountain, especially approaching a cliff. Laura Gill was killed by a snake but there are no poisonous snakes in alaska unless someone let their pet out and it someone survived. She only lives five houses over than us and some days when she’d garden, her son would sneak a fake snake into the flower beds to scare her for his amusement and she’d shriek every time. The clergy’s son was afraid of killing himself because it is considered selfish in the fate to do so and he never wanted to disappoint his father. And all of these accidents happened right outside city border into the surrounding woods.”

“What about the clergy himself, I believe he crossed into the woods as well.”

“He was a selfless person as any faith leader should be. His worst fear was seeing someone he loved get hurt, which did happen to him.” The Sheriff's brows furrowed as Jeremiah spun the illogical yet oddly sensitive theory. “And both the Clergy’s son and Mr. Davis were drawn out of their houses due to a voice they thought the heard, a voice calling for help.”

The Sherriff was in shock and his eyes big but he shook himself back to sense, “As much as that story may fit together perfectly, we are leaving out science and common sense. The towns people would simply laugh at me and call me a fool if I told everyone to stay clear of the forests surrounding every inch of the outside of this town. We couldn’t leave for anywhere.”

“I understand this sir but if something else is to happen, it will be our fault for not warning the people.”

“Let me think this over. How about you go home early today, make yourself a nice cup of tea and relax with your wife. We can talk more about it tomorrow.”

As Jeremiah walk home the question, ‘am I going bonkers?’ Kept popping up in his head. He went slowly, trying to diagnose the level of reality in his brain. Everything made sense and lined up so perfectly, except for the logic. By the time he arrived through the uneven picket fence and greeted his dog with a belly rub, he had convinced himself he was just spooked from last night. He did know whether to tell Lillian or not, he didn’t want her to taunt him like the sheriff did.

“Hello honey,” she said with her voice sounding like honey as well, “Are you feeling okay?” She guessed from the confused and glum ‘Ya’ he gave that he was not that. “Well I know you care about everyone in this town but trust me when I say that there was nothing you could do for that young boy.”

Jeremiah nodded, little did she know that that was not the only thing clogging every inch of his mind at that moment.

Later that night as the sun quickly disappeared below the tree line and they ate dinner, a question stirred in the top of Jeremiah's brain which he finally let go, “What is your biggest fear?”

The way he blurted it out startled Lillian a little but being the angel she was, following the frown with a smile, “Well that’s a little off topic but hmmm, let me think. I’ve always had a big fear of people not in their right mind. I never drink because of it, as you know. Something about people not being who they truly are, especially psychopaths have always gave me goosebumps. What about you?”

He swallowed his mouth full of bread, “I’ve actually have been thinking about that today and I’ve come to the conclusion that my biggest fear is not a thing, but rather myself hurting someone, someone who doesn’t deserve it especially.”

“And that’s why I love you, so selfless.” She got up and took the plates to the sink, “I’m going to go out to the compost quickly.”

“Okay, but the bowls not full yet.”

“Yeah but I just feel like I should” She said and closed the back door behind her.

Jeremiah sat still, thinking about the boy who shot himself and the blood not only running down him, but his father. He thought of Mrs. Gill’s swollen skin and grey skin after the snake venom had traveled throughout her body. Mr. Davis and his ripped up body lay in front of his eyes, and his wife's tears running over him. He then realized that the compost pile was outside of the yard and in the woods, the edge of town, he didn’t care what the sheriff said, he had a gut feeling he was right. At a supernatural speed he was up out of his chair and through the back door. He grabbed his axe from by the fire wood for protection from what ever may lie in the woods ready to attack Lillian. He raced out into the thicket of the woods, passing the berry bushes which were not in season and the pile of pots for gardening along with their oddly large selection of wheel barrows. The lantern light from the house cast a shifting glow upon the coniferous trees which creaked and swayed in the light breeze. His eyes then fell upon the most horrible sight he could imagine. Standing over something on the ground which he could only assume to be Lillian stood a spider like woman with long sharp fingernails which dropped at her sides. She faced away but he could tell her face would be even more ugly than the back of her. She slowly stooped over to feed of Lillian and Jeremiah charged with all of his might, axe raised to the crimson red sky. Before the monster had any time to turn around the axe come down with a splitting noise and off came the head of Lillian which came down onto the ground with a thud, her eyes still shining in the most angelic way.