The Werewolf (Alternate)
A note from Eric and Charlotte: We had two versions of this story and couldn’t decide which we liked best, so we’re sharing our second version as a free bonus story. Please enjoy!
Written by Eric Shipley and Charlotte Easterling
Illustration by Charlotte Easterling
Kovno Governate, Lithuania, September 1905:
“Jokūbas!” Darijus Mazounas, who was 10 years old, shouted from behind his brother.
Jokūbas stopped, sighed, and turned around. At 13, he was both proud that Mama and Papa trusted him to watch Dari and annoyed by having the boy along.
“Hurry up, Dari!” he said.
Despite being smaller, Dari had insisted on lugging the basket Mama had given them for collecting mushrooms.
Jokūbas sighed again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry it? You’re closer to the ground, so you can see the mushrooms better than I can.”
Dari’s chin jutted out. “Just slow down so I can keep up!”
They walked along quietly for a while, Jokūbas trying to keep his irritation under control and Dari panting and grunting dramatically. They presently stopped to collect some chanterelles, which put both of them in a better mood.
They stopped a few more times, this time collecting russulas. Dari wrinkled his nose at their fishy smell, so Jokūbas pushed one close to his face, laughing. Dari pushed his hand away and dropped the basket in the process.
“Dari, you’re spilling all our mushrooms!” which set off an argument and a short scuffle before they collected them back up. Dari promptly went back to shuffling along.
“Hurry up or the vilkacis will come out and get you!” said Jokūbas, putting on a scary face and waving his hands in a spooky way.
Dari tried to look defiant. “But Papa said that was just an old folk tale!”
Jokūbas smirked. They never could be sure whether Papa believed the folk tales.
“I know,” he said, “but Grandpa told me that one is true!”
It was sure that their grandfather did believe the old tales, especially the one about vilkacis.
“Grandpa told me,” Jokūbas went on, “that the big oak is where they go to change into wolves. He said their favorite food is slow little boys cooked into a stew with mushrooms.” The second part of that was a bit of embellishment on Jokūbas’s part, but it made him laugh when Dari looked around and moved closer to him.
“Asilas,” Dari muttered.
That brought a sharp look and tone from Jokūbas. “I am not a jackass, but I’m going to tell Mama what you called me!”
They walked along in sullen silence for a while, ignoring the mushrooms they passed. Dari suddenly turned and started heading east.
“Where are you going?!” Jokūbas demanded.
“I’m going to go to the old oak. I’m not scared of vilkacis–it’s just a story.” He stomped ahead, moving faster with his bulky basket than he had all afternoon.
Well, Jokūbas thought, now I know what it takes to get him moving.
The giant tree took them farther from home, and it was late afternoon. But the boys were on a mission now. They walked for another fifteen minutes before coming to it. The tree was massive, with heavy branches that swept the ground. Jokūbas shivered a bit as the wind rattled the leaves.
Dari set down the basket and gave his brother a defiant look. “See? No vilkacis! I told you it was just a story!”
Jokūbas snorted. “This is just where they come to turn into wolves. If you wanted to see one here, we should have come at night. Now they’re out roaming around in the woods.” He made his hands into claws and growled.
Dari kicked at him. “I dare you to go in there!”
Jokūbas straightened and looked at the tree. The heavy foliage made the space between the branches and the trunk shadowy. But he couldn’t admit to being scared now, not after all this.
“Fine,” he said, and bent to slip between the branches of the tree. The ground was soft and muddy with huge roots rising out of the ground like the backs of sea monsters.
Dari’s voice came from outside: “I dare you to walk all the way around the tree!”
“Fine,” Jokūbas called out again and started working his way around. He kept his eyes on the ground in front of him to avoid tripping over a root in the dim light. “We have to go home after this, Dari. It’s getting dark.”
“Sure! Coward!” Dari shouted.
“We’ll see who’s the coward!” Jokūbas shouted back.
He was just over half way around the tree when he saw the tracks. They appeared to be small human feet, maybe a child or a small woman had walked in here barefoot. He followed them a short distance before they stopped. It was getting darker with the sun now blocked by the trunk as well as the branches. He moved forward and saw the wolf tracks. He froze, looking back to where the human tracks ended. There was no sign of the person walking out from under the tree or the wolf walking in. He shivered, this time not needing the wind to help him.
“Dari!” Jokūbas ran the rest of the way around the tree.
Dari was doubled over laughing when he burst out from between the branches. “Oh no, did a vilkacis chase you?”
“Go look,” said Jokūbas.
Dari shoved the basket into his hands and went in under the cover of the boughs. A minute later he ran back out, any traces of boldness gone. Jokūbas grabbed his hand and scooped up their basket of mushrooms. It wasn’t even half full, so Mama would be unhappy, but he didn’t care.
“Come on,” he told Dari, and together they ran back home. Every step of the way they checked for the sound of howling coming from the forest behind them.