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Whack! cracked the staff on the twisted snout of the ravening wolf. Yelp! went the cowering wolf tumbling over itself away from the fire's dying center, and set itself once again for the spring. Whack Whack! went the staff in the hand of its wielder, twirling it without any apparent effort, artfully, gracefully, and with deft precision. The wolf, hungry yet defeated, slunk behind a tree and slowly hobbled away. And then the dawn. And then the new day. And then the many questions, and only a few answers...but strong ones, ones that tugged at him like hounds on a harnessed leash, each one leading to new unfathomed mysteries. There was a battered tome. There was the key with intricate bejewelled wards, in the simple, small, odd, well-crafted box with three lids that opened on itself. There was the fine set of clothing that fit his new (!) body quite exactly. There was the finely-wrought dagger--misericord, really--wrapped in oil-soaked linen. There was the body of the old man. And there was very little else but ashes. With the coming dawn, he...
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