A Wolf Story by James Byron Huggins Page A

form.
    Baalkor advanced slowly, grinning, doom clouding its head.
    Aramus had retreated almost to Saul, roaring and using false attacks to stall the dark wolf. But the monster moved forward, implacable, undisturbed by any threat.
    Aramus felt the ground steepening behind him, marking the beginning of the true forest edge where the trail ran north to his home. His footing quickly became uncertain in the deeper snow that covered the layers of dead leaves and limbs. Then, without warning, his hind leg slid though a tangle of limbs hidden by the snow. Aramus frantically tore his leg free, anticipating an attack during the quick distraction. But Baalkor only seemed to laugh, moving slowly forward. And Aramus knew he could retreat no further.
    Aramus felt a movement near him on the hillside, and with a frantic glance he saw that Saul was struggling to his feet, dying yet determined to defy, prepared to fight beside him against this demonic beast of unspeakable power and rage... and suddenly, he knew.
    In that quick and terrible moment when hideous Death rose before him, and his wounded friend struggled to rise beside him, Aramus knew, and understood, the secret of strength; understanding that the world had no power over Saul because there was nothing left of the world within him. Saul was free, and the freedom was power: the power to choose what was right, the power to resist the darkness, and the power to die without fear because his life was with the Lightmaker, a life that could never be taken from him, not by suffering, or danger, or death.
    And in that instant, as Aramus felt and understood the secret, he overcame the world, choosing to love the Lightmaker with all his heart and soul, sensing spirit and love that flowed into strength, giving him the power to resist, lifting his life beyond reach of the beast.
    Aramus's screaming snarl snatched the dark wolfs attention for a long chilling instant. And a pale flicker flashed behind the black eyes as the silver wolf advanced.
    "I know what you are, beast," he said. "You are a liar and a coward. It is you who should fear death. For you will die once, and then suffer judgment. But we will survive the night because we do not belong to the world. So fight me if you dare. Death cannot claim me.
    Aramus roared savagely and threw himself forward, gaining momentum in the last quick surge to collide against Baalkor with all his weight. And the dark wolf slid back at the impact, its legs skidding out on the snow. Yet with the painful collision Aramus felt as if he had thrown himself against a mountain wall. The bruising concussion sent him sprawling to the side, and in the next chaotic moment a long foreleg lashed out, striking him across the eyes.
    Light flashed across his mind, and Aramus felt the ground swing away beneath him. For a long white moment he tumbled through space, a demonic laugh roaring through his mind. Then he crashed heavily in the snow. A frenzied movement followed, with Baalkor crushing him, and as blood streaked his silver mane Aramus knew that he was wounded again.
    Baalkor's dark face glowered over him, red jaws glistening with hell within, and flashed toward his face. But as the black wedge descended, Aramus twisted to the side and his own sharp fangs found their mark. The dark wolf howled, twisted back, and broke clear of the grip. Then it surged forward again.
    Aramus struggled to regain his footing, but the monster struck him full force. He was hurled back, searching for ground, and crashed heavily into a cold tangle of icy limbs. It was the remnant of a giant oak that had fallen years before, yet which still held thick branches imprisoning him on all sides. Roaring, Aramus savagely tore against the clinging branches, shattering ice and limbs alike, knowing Baalkor would use the moment to kill Saul.
    And even as Aramus raged against the icy prison, he saw the dark wolf moving toward Saul, its frosty breath streaming in clouds.
    Baalkor's words were venom.
    "I