If a Werewolf Is Slain as a Man, Then
His Half-Soul Will Haunt His Slayer Forever
THE sun had set. The great shadows came striding over the forest. In the weird twilight of a late summer day, I saw the path ahead glide on among the mighty trees and disappear. And I shuddered and glanced fearfully over my shoulder. Miles behind lay the nearest village—miles ahead the next.
I looked to left and to right as I strode on, and anon I looked behind me. And anon I stopped short, grasping my rapier, as a breaking twig betokened the going of some small beast. Or was it a beast?
But the path led on and I followed, because, forsooth, I had naught else to do.
As I went I bethought me, "My own thoughts will rout me, if I be not aware. What is there in this forest, except perhaps the creatures that roam it, deer and the like? Tush, the foolish legends of those villagers!"
And so I went and the twilight faded into dusk. Stars began to blink and the leaves of the trees murmured in the faint breeze. And then I stopped short, my sword leaping to my hand, for just ahead, around a curve of the path, someone was singing. The words I could not distinguish, but the accent was strange, almost barbaric.
I stepped behind a great tree, and the cold sweat beaded my forehead. Then the singer came in sight, a tall, thin man, vague in the twilight. I shrugged my shoulders. A man I did not fear. I sprang out, my point raised.
"Stand!"
He showed no surprize. "I prithee, handle thy blade with care, friend," he said.
Somewhat ashamed, I lowered my sword.
"I am new to this forest," I quoth, apologetically. "I heard talk of bandits. I crave pardon. Where lies the road to Villefère?"
"Corbleu, you’ve missed it," he answered. "You should have branched off to the right some distance back. I am going there myself. If you may abide my company, I will direct you."
I hesitated. Yet why should I hesitate?
"Why, certainly. My name is de Montour, of Normandy."
"And I am Carolus le Loup."
"No!" I started back.
He looked at me in astonishment.
"Pardon," said I; "the name is strange. Does not loup mean wolf?"
"My family were always great hunters," he answered. He did not offer his hand.
"You will pardon my staring," said I as we walked down the path,
