Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,48

she nearly jumped out of her skin when a much closer wolf answered the call with a returning howl.

Red wolves were elusive, almost mythological beasts, seldom seen by anyone, but they were well known for being fierce warriors that fought in packs, tearing their enemies with their gleaming white fangs.

The wolf close to her howled again, and a dozen wolves on the other side of the river lit up the air with a bloodcurdling chorus of howls. Goose bumps rose on her arms.

She did not hear it approach for it moved like a ghost through the mist, but she saw the wolf come slowly out of the forest and look out across the river. She stayed very still among the roots and watched it. She could smell the musky scent of its coat and see its moonlit breath in the air.

It was a young wolf, long and lean, with a deep coat of reddish-brown fur, a slender nose, and tall ears. The fur on its right shoulder was bloody from a wound.

She held her breath and stayed quiet. The wolf doesn’t know I’m here, she thought. I’m one with the forest. I’m camouflaged and silent.

But then the wolf turned its head and looked straight at her, its eyes as keen and penetrating as any creature she had ever seen.

Her muscles bunched as she prepared herself for the attack.

But then the wolf’s ear twitched. Serafina heard it, too. There was something large moving through the forest, traveling along the river shore toward them.

The wolf looked in the direction of the sound, and then he looked back at her. He stared at her for several seconds, even as the sound moved toward them. Then, to her astonishment, the wolf walked into the river. He kept walking until he was up to his shoulders in the water, then the river swept him away and all she could see was his head as he tried to fight against the current. He was swimming toward the howls of his brothers and sisters on the other side of the river. And he was swimming away from the thing coming toward her.

Suddenly, she felt abandoned, vulnerable.

The river made too much noise for her to hear exactly what was coming toward her, but it was getting closer. Sticks breaking. Footsteps. Two feet. It wasn’t the mountain lion or another wolf that had scared the red wolf across the river, but a man. Was it the Man in the Black Cloak?

As she huddled down into the dirt, a hideous giant centipede crawled across her hand. She flinched and stifled a scream.

Her lungs demanded more air. Her legs tensed, wanting her to run. But it was too late. The attacker was too close. A smart rabbit doesn’t break cover when the predator is upon her. She hides. She pushed herself farther back into the dark little hole beneath the roots.

A flickering light came through the trees. She heard the pushing of bushes and the scraping of bark and the muffled clanking of metal and wood.

It’s a lantern, she thought. The same kind of lantern the Man in the Black Cloak used the night he took Clara Brahms.

Trembling, she crouched low and readied herself for battle.

Serafina watched the man raise his lantern and look around him as he broke through the underbrush. It was clear that he was searching for something, but more than that, he was frightened. Even with his lantern and the nearly full moon, he could not see as well in the forest’s darkness as she could. When the man took another step, she recognized the familiar creak of his leather work boot. That’s when she realized that it wasn’t the Man in the Black Cloak. It was her pa, in a long, dark brown weather cloak. Despite his warnings, and despite his fear, he had delved deep into the forest to rescue her.

She gasped, crawled out of her hole, and ran toward him.

“I-I’m here, Pa! I’m here!” she stammered, crying as she threw her arms around him.

He squeezed her tight for a long time. It was like being hugged by a gentle bear. She clung to his huge, warm body.

As he exhaled in relief, she could feel the shattering worry pouring out of him. “Sera, aw, Sera, I…I thought you’d disappeared like the other children.”

“I ain’t disappeared, Pa,” she said, her voice quivering like she was a little girl again.

Seeing her torn clothing and the scratches on her arms even in the poor light of his lantern,