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The winds of Neuville bring gossip its way. Excited chatter comes from the townsfolk as they gather around Francis Bonnefoy dragging in a large wolf. The beast is dead and gone, tongue lolling out of its mouth.
For a month now, the wolf had been putting the town on edge before it bit one of the councilmen just a few days ago.
With a smile on his face, Francis brings the corpse to the councilman’s doorstep. “Monsieur! Monsieur! I have brought you your assaulter. Voilà!” He drops the wolf at his doorstep.
The councilman peers down from his window at the crowd forming and then to the wolf. “That is not the wolf that bit me.”
“What? How can you tell from all the way up there?”
“The beast that bit me was larger than that.”
Francis leans down to inspect the animal and prods it with his foot. “Bigger than this? That cannot be possible.”
“Are you saying that I can’t recognize the animal that bit me?”
“I am saying that you should come down to have a closer look, Monsieur.”
A scoff and the councilman disappears from the window and a moment later opens the front door. He sneers at the corpse and kicks it with his foot. “It is large… but the coat colour is wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“Yes, you heard me. Wrong.”
“But you said the wolf was blonde, which I have to say is impossible in these forests. This is the lightest colour a wolf’s coat can get in these parts.”
“I know what I saw.”
“And sometimes the mind muddies.”
The councilman's face twists into a scowl as he stares down Francis. “I’ll have you thrown out for getting on my nerves.”
“Throw out your saviour? I think deserve a heftier reward for killing the beast that bit you.”
“But that isn’t the damn beast that bit me, ya hear?”
The playful grin on Francis’ face turns something akin to a snarl and his voice with a coldness for only the councilman’s ears. “You must be getting quite old, Monsieur. This is your wolf and I would know it. I have looked high and low and there is no other wolf that matches your description. If there is, then you may throw me out of town.”
Murmurings from the crowd erupt here and there. The councilman’s face drains of colour as he stares at the man before him. If he can call him a man. To the councilman, Francis resembles a wolf more so than a man. He looks down at the wolf at his feet and gives it a nudge with his toes. “Uh, yes. I must’ve been mistaken. This has to be the wolf that bit me.”
Francis smiles to himself in satisfaction. “Glad you could come to your senses, Monsieur.” He takes a step back. “I’ll be waiting for my reward. Adieu!” With a turn on his heels, he leaves the councilman feeling sick to his stomach.
Cold winds blow from the north in the outskirts of Neuville. The trees reach high and cover the moon. It feels much darker in these woods than usual.
The warm light of the lantern sways to and fro as the councilman turns from side to side. “I know you're out here,” he cries, “Come out here you blonde devil!” The grip on his musket tightens as he hears laughter nearby. “Come out I say, come out!” The thick scent of alcohol lingers on his breath. “Because of you, I’ve become a laughing stock in town. My own won't look me in the eyes!”
Another laugh and the councilman finds himself knocked to the ground, his lamp and musket tumble from his grasp. “You brought this upon yourself.” The councilman looks up to find the large wolf of nicely kept brown and cream fur staring down at him. He feels a chill in his gut as he looks into the wolf’s striking blue eyes. “You are a foolish old man. That is why they laugh at you.”
“No.”
“Yes.” The wolf’s mouth opens in a grinning pant, tongue and teeth out for show. “You would not believe the things I’ve heard your people say about you behind your back.” The wolf starts to circle the councilman. “Your people have never had respect for you, Monsieur.”
“Shut the hell up! Devil!” The councilman reaches for his musket and the wolf lunges at the man's face.
“Must you leave?”
Francis sighs. “Yes, I am afraid so, my love.” He kisses her on the lips. “I am afraid that a certain councilman doe not like me and I think it’s best if I left town before he finds a reason to drive me out.”
“Oh, he won’t run you out! You killed the wolf that attacked him for Christ’s sake!”
“Yes, that is true, but I’m afraid that whole fiasco might’ve made him think ill of me. He’s been locked in his home since then, it is best if I left now before he frames me for something.”
There’s a pause between them.
“Will I ever see you again?”
Francis smiles and kisses her again. “I’m sure we will.”
Days later after Francis’ departure from Nueville, the body of councilman Adrien was found torn apart in the forest. Some speculate it was the same wolf that bit him before, others say it was an unrelated wolf, and a few believe it was a hunting accident involving poorly trained hounds.