Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #14 May 2015 | Page 73

The Wolves’
Guardian

Angwenth’s muscles tensed at his actions, but she
forced herself to take a deep breath before standing.
Her eyes were steady on the man. “What did you do to
him?”

by Nikki Yager

The main street was busy with Market Day. The one
day of the week when all those who lived in the small
town could sell their wares and goods to patrons.
Stalls had been built side by side for over a mile. Food
stalls stretched away from Angwenth to the right: one
dedicated to teas, another to goat’s milk, still another
to corn and tomatoes. To the left were trinkets, weapons, clothing, and other odds and ends.

Standing in front of the next stall over, the girl was
dressed in a faded blue dress that was a few sizes too
big on her tiny frame. Brown hair, similar to Angwenth’s shade, lay matted against the girl’s head. Dirt
looked as if it had been hastily wiped off her hands
and face, though she remained filthy.

Between the sobs the girl looked down at the ground
and wiped away snot from her running nose. “Daddy
took Lucky last night, but-but… he never… ” She
began to cry again.
A large filthy hand wrapped around the frail child’s
wrist and yanked her towards the owner. “Amelia!
What did I tell you? Stop crying over that damn mutt.
Just drop it, he ain’t coming home.”

A snarl escaped his lips. “Mind your own damn business, girl. What I do with my own is my concern.”
Tiny hands pulled on the man’s arm, attempting to
yank him away.
Her eyes widened and her lip trembled, as her breathing became rapid and a pleading whine entered her
voice as she said “Daddy, let’s go. I’m sorry. Please
don’t fight the nice lady.”

Voices echoed through the alleys as villagers bartered
to get the best deal and sellers tried to make a profit.
The chatter calmed Angwenth as she casually walked
past each booth, peering at the sales. While she
stopped at a booth that sold strawberries Angwenth
overheard a little girl sniffing, holding back choked
sobs.

Angwenth, not seeing a parent with the small child,
knelt next to her. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

He was taller than Angwenth by a few inches, but
where Angwenth was trim and muscular he showed a
physique defined by slothfulness. The hair had left