Following the elf's directions, the two headed south. Not far beyond the main road, they came to a farm.
Jess remembered that one of the many abandoned farms south of Duskwood's main road was occupied by werewolves. So even before they approached, he was keeping a close watch on everything around them.
They hadn't seen any sign of a werewolf in the past day and night, and both were beginning to doubt Morgan's story. But better safe than sorry. If they stopped worrying and actually ran into one, they'd be in serious trouble.
After all, Gred didn't even know what a werewolf was. If they ended up fighting one, he'd be at a disadvantage.
The two hid behind the trunk of an old oak, black and nearly dead, and peered toward the farm. Gred pointed at the lone mill opposite the barn.
"Is that the windmill he meant?"
"One blade. Probably."
Jess pointed to the wildly overgrown bushes and small trees covering the fence at the edge of the farm. "We'll go that way."
Gred looked along the fence, touched the calf the elf had cut, and sighed wearily.
Then he looked at the flat abandoned field covered in weeds. "Doesn't look like there's anything alive out there."
"Remember the cemetery? This morning?" Jess said.
The cemetery had seemed perfectly quiet until they came out of the tomb and found it full of undead. Neither of them would forget that for the rest of his life.
Gred clearly understood what Jess meant. He stared into Jess's eyes for a moment, then silently slipped into a ditch to their right, lower than the surrounding ground.
They followed the edge of the farm fence toward the mill. The light was fading, and night seemed close.
"Once we've searched this farm, we're going back no matter what, Gred," Jess said. "The people of Raven Hill have lived here for years. Whether their werewolf stories are true or not, they at least tell us the nights are dangerous."
"Maybe, but we've come all this way. Going home empty-handed would be pathetic," the dwarf said unhappily. "If we can't find anything here, we've got to look at one more place at least. We're so close to the road. It's much safer than where we found the Kingsblood."
"Think that elf might be sending us here to get even?" Jess whispered. "We did give him a pretty hard time."
Gred turned from where he was feeling his way forward. "I've thought of that. But what could be waiting here? His friends in an ambush? Doesn't seem worth the trouble. Or maybe the farm is surrounded by ghouls? Doesn't look like it. I can't say for sure, though. We'll just have to be careful."
"And being careful means walking straight across the middle of the field?" Jess asked.
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"Who said we're walking through the middle?!" the dwarf protested sharply before turning and continuing.
Jess sighed softly. Before he could say anything, Gred turned back and put a finger to his lips.
Shh.
What was wrong?
Gred silently shaped the words: There's a wolf.
Jess raised his head a little and looked around. He couldn't see anything.
After a day of practice, his eyes were sharp enough to spot Silverleaf in the bushes. A wolf should be hard to miss.
"Are you sure?" he breathed close to Gred's ear.
Gred wrinkled his nose. "Smell."
Seriously? He could smell a wolf, an animal so careful about hiding its tracks? Did dwarves have some special ability?
Jess tried sniffing the air. Naturally, he noticed nothing.
Still, Gred wasn't the type to cause trouble for no reason. Jess slowed down, crouched low, and followed him a little at a time.
The mill was now less than twenty yards away, and there was still no sign of a wolf.
Jess looked up. The single remaining blade hung down from the tall windmill. It looked like an enormous knight in gray armor, standing in the darkness with both hands resting on a broad sword.
Gred stayed crouched for a long while, waiting for whatever animal might be there to give itself away. Nothing obvious happened.
"Strange," he murmured, moving his nose. "Let's go inside."
Jess nodded. They felt their way along the mill wall. As they approached the entrance, they heard a faint, strange, wet sound.
This time Jess was the one who signaled for silence. Gred stopped and listened. Slowly, his eyes widened.
While they listened closely, the crack of a breaking bone cut through the rustling sounds.
There was little doubt now. A meat-eating animal was feeding.
Jess slid his hand a little higher on the axe handle and made sure his grip was firm. Gred drew an arrow and set it to his bow.
They exchanged a nod and crept through the doorway.
At first, the mill was too dark to see anything. As their eyes adjusted, Jess caught sight of a huge silver-gray shape moving back and forth behind abandoned tools, cobwebs, and a fallen partition.
He glanced at Gred. The dwarf's eyes were even wider than his.
Gred raised his bow and aimed at the huge beast. He pulled the string tight enough to make it creak. The beast suddenly stopped moving.
It turned around. Whether Gred made a quick decision to fire or simply let go in fright, the arrow flew through the cobwebs and a gap in the broken wall and sank into the beast's neck.
A furious roar exploded inside the cramped mill, making Jess's ears ache.
The creature leaped out, smashing through the partition and a pile of broken farm tools. Its fur gleamed with a frightening silver light even in the faint glow coming through the entrance.
Jess brushed dust and wood chips off himself, pressed his back against the wall, and gripped his axe as he stared at it.
It wasn't a werewolf. It was an enormous wolf, almost as tall as his shoulders. The forest wolves farther north looked like stray dogs in comparison.
Its charge separated them. Gred got to his feet, raised his sword, and stepped in quickly, driving it deep into the giant wolf's side. His arm sank into the thick fur.
The pain drove the wolf wild, but the injury didn't weaken it. It twisted around, knocked Gred to the floor with one blow, and was about to jump on him.
Jess had heard that a dog's waist was the narrowest and weakest part of its body. A wolf probably wasn't much different. He raised his axe and struck the wolf across the lower back.
The beast was about to bite the dwarf pinned under it. The blow made it howl, and its hindquarters began to twitch uncontrollably.
Gred shouted as he crawled out from underneath. The strange wolf kept twitching and howling, but it couldn't fight back anymore. Neither man dared get too close. They could only wait for it to run out of strength.
After a long while, the giant wolf finally stopped moving. Its blood had soaked the floor of the mill.
When things grew quiet, Gred muttered, "If that elf hadn't cut my leg, I'd have killed this wolf ages ago! No way it would've pinned me down!"
Jess looked at him. The dwarf was covered in blood, red from head to toe.
"Are you hurt?"
"Me? Huh?"
Gred looked down, shuddered at the blood on his body, and felt around himself.
"No. It's not my blood."