The Talisman

apparently wandered into Main Street looking for food. And there would be more names. More names like Thielke, Heidel, Hagen . . .
    At first he looked toward the road, hoping even now to see Wolf’s giant form skulking away to the east – he wouldn’t want to meet Jack returning from Daleville. The long road was as deserted as the shed.
    Of course.
    The sun, as good a clock as the one he wore on his wrist, had slipped well below its meridian.
    Jack turned despairingly toward the long field and the edge of the woods behind it. Nothing moved but the tips of the stubble, which bent before a chill wandering breeze.
    HUNT CONTINUES FOR KILLER WOLF , a headline would read, a few days down the road.
    Then a large brown boulder at the edge of the woods did move, and Jack realized that the boulder was Wolf. He had hunkered down on his heels and was staring at Jack.
    ‘Oh, you inconvenient son of a bitch,’ Jack said, and in the midst of his relief knew that a part of him had been secretly delighted by Wolf’s departure. He stepped toward him.
    Wolf did not move, but his posture somehow intensified, became more electric and aware. Jack’s next step required more courage than the first.
    Twenty yards farther, he saw that Wolf had continued to change. His hair had become even thicker, more luxuriant, as if it had been washed and blow-dried; and now Wolf’s beard really did seem to begin just beneath his eyes. His entire body, hunkered down as it was, seemed to have become wider and more powerful. His eyes, filled with liquid fire, blazed Halloween orange.
    Jack made himself go nearer. He nearly stopped when he thought he saw that Wolf now had paws instead of hands, but a moment later realized that his hands and fingers were completely covered by a thatch of coarse dark hair. Wolf continued to gaze at him with his blazing eyes. Jack again halved the distance between them, then paused. For the first time since he had come upon Wolf tending his flock beside a Territories stream, he could not read his expression. Maybe Wolf had become too alien for that already, or maybe all the hair simply concealed too much of his face. What he was sure of was that some strong emotion had gripped Wolf.
    A dozen feet away he stopped for good and forced himself to look into the werewolf’s eyes.
    ‘Soon now, Jacky,’ Wolf said, and his mouth dropped open in a fearsome parody of a smile.
    ‘I thought you ran away,’ Jack said.
    ‘Sat here to see you coming. Wolf!’
    Jack did not know what to make of this declaration. Obscurely, it reminded him of Little Red Riding Hood. Wolf’s teeth did look particularly crowded, sharp, and strong. ‘I got the lock,’ he said. He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up. ‘You have any ideas while I was gone, Wolf?’
    Wolf’s whole face – eyes, teeth, everything – blazed out at Jack.
    ‘You’re the herd now, Jacky,’ Wolf said. And lifted his head and released a long unfurling howl.
    8
    A less frightened Jack Sawyer might have said, ‘Can that stuff, willya?’ or ‘We’ll have every dog in the county around here if you keep that up,’ but both of these statements died in his throat. He was too scared to utter a word. Wolf gave him his A #1 smile again, his mouth looking like a television commercial for Ginsu knives, and rose effortlessly to his feet. The John Lennon glasses seemed to be receding back into the bristly top of his beard and the thick hair falling over his temples. He looked at least seven feet tall to Jack, and as burly as the beer barrels in the back room of the Oatley Tap.
    ‘You have good smells in this world, Jacky,’ Wolf said.
    And Jack finally recognized his mood. Wolf was exultant. He was like a man who against steep odds had just won a particularly difficult contest. At the bottom of this triumphant emotion percolated that joyful and feral quality Jack had seen once before.
    ‘Good smells! Wolf! Wolf!’
    Jack took a delicate step backward, wondering if he was upwind of Wolf. ‘You never said anything good about it before,’ he said, not quite coherently.
    ‘Before is before and now is now,’ Wolf said. ‘Good things. Many good things – all around. Wolf will find them, you bet.’
    That made it worse, for now Jack could see – could nearly feel – a flat, confident greed, a wholly amoral hunger shining in the reddish eyes. I’ll eat anything I catch and kill, it said. Catch and kill.
    ‘I hope none of those good things are people, Wolf,’ Jack