"But, where's Peter?" I asked. Mike and Fiona looked at each other and then at us.
"Peter?" Mike hesitated. "Well.."
"Yeah, you know, Peter. Kind of about this tall, blond hair, blue eyes, innocent smile, you know, Peter," Micky said, giving Mike a weird look. "He came up here to look for you."
"Oh, that Peter," Mike said. "He's kind of, um.."
"Kind of what?" came a voice from the doorway. It was Peter, dressed in his blue parka with snow covering him from head to toe. His hood covered his hair, and he had snow all over him, but he was definitely Peter.
"Peter?" Mike asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I've been here a few days Mike. Are you feeling all right?" Peter asked, glancing at Mike in a concerned manner. "When did you guys get here?" he asked turning to Micky and I.
"Just now, Mike found us and brought us here," Micky said. "We were worried about you guys, you should have told us where you were going," he said.
I could tell something odd was happening that Micky seemed to either be oblivious to or ignoring. Mike seemed absolutely surprised to see Peter, and Peter seemed to be hiding something. I could tell by just looking at him that there was something he wasn't telling us. Whether or not Mike knew what that was, I don't know, but he was obviously confused. Trying to make sense of it all was hard, so I just blurted out, " What's going on here?"
"What do you mean, Davy?" Peter asked.
"I can tell something weird is going on. You're hiding something, aren't you?" I asked.
Peter just smiled his innocent smile. Mike just looked absolutely bewildered at the fact that Peter existed and was standing right there in front of him. Micky was lost. I was not exactly myself either.
Since I could tell nobody was going to tell the truth here, I sighed, and laid back.
Micky asked, " So what do we have to eat?"
The question seemed to bring everyone back to life. "Well, let's see," Mike said. "We've got pistachio nuts, pistachio nuts, pistachio nuts. OOH, and what have we here, more...pistachio nuts!"
"And some actual food," Fiona added, rolling her eyes at Mike.
"I think you should have the pistachio nuts," I said, giggling.
" I think I'll take the actual food," Micky said without hesitation, grinning.
The rest of the day went on semi-normal, though occasionally I could sense some sort of confusion in the room. Fiona, for the most part, stayed out of the hostilities. Mike, Peter, and she were for some strange reason, reluctant to explain to Micky and I what was going on. Not that I would have blamed them. Had I been there, I wouldn't have told either. Most likely no one would have believed.
The next day, with seemingly no other choice, we decided to head out to see if we could find the cars. Mike and Micky decided to head south to see if they could find our car, and Peter and I headed east to look for Mr. Babbit's car, as he'd most likely be annoyed if we returned without it. As the dog sled was our only method of transportation other than our feet, we had at first a small argument about who would take it. Finally, we decided to just shoot for it, and Peter and I were the unlucky ones. We packed up some food, blankets, and a few other necessities and headed out. Since the car was a good distance from the cabin, we didn't expect to see either the cabin or Mike and Micky for at least a week.
The first day we headed out and found the going obviously slow. We had brought some frozen food, (which would most likely stay frozen), and there was no problem with food.
When night fell we found a nice spot under a large evergreen tree to camp out under, and began a fire to defreeze the frozen food. I tried once more to find out what was really going on, but Peter remained adamantly silent. Whether he really knew something and was hiding it I did not know, but I couldn't shake that feeling that something was weird. That night, we set up a tent and fell asleep quickly.
During the night, I was suddenly awakened by a scream of what sounded like a little girl. I sat up in bed, and saw that Peter was gone. I ran out of the tent, half dressed, and discovered how cold Alaska really is. I ran back in and threw on a pair of boots and my coat (and some other clothes) and headed off again. I stopped, unsure of what direction I was going to go, when I heard the scream again. This time I was able to determine which direction to head, and ran off in that direction. I stopped just in time to avoid falling off of a rather deep, sharp cliff. I heard the scream again, and looked down. It was a little girl, about the age of twelve, halfway down the cliff, sitting on what looked like a very unstable ledge.
"Help me!!" she wailed up at me.
"Hold on, I'll help you," I said. "How did you get down there?"
"I was just out for a walk. I couldn't sleep." she said. "Help me, I think my leg is broken."
"A walk?" I asked. "In the middle of the night?"
"I got lost," she wailed. " I'm scared."
"All right, all right," I yelled down. "I'll help you." Actually, I had no idea how I was going to do this. Then I remembered that we had brought a rope with us. It was back in the tent. "Wait here," I yelled. "I'm going to get a rope."
"No, don't leave me!" she yelled. "I'm scared."
"But I have to," I said. "I'm just going back to my tent to get a rope. I can't help you out of there if I don't get a rope." 'Geez Peter, what a time to disappear,' I thought to myself. He might have actually been a help at this point in time.
Just then, as if in answer to my silent plea for help, a medium sized golden-German-shepherd-like-dog appeared behind me. Whether it was the same dog that helped Mike to rescue Micky and I, no one knows, but I do know that it certainly helped me. It appeared right then and, to complete the miraculous wonder, it had a bundle of rope around its neck.
"Where'd you come from?" I asked. But there was no time to sit and wonder about it. All I knew was that I had to save the little girl. I yelled down the cliff again, "What's your name?" I asked her.
"Kathryn," she yelled back.
"All right Kathryn, my name's Davy. I'm gonna toss down this rope, all right?." I tried to keep calm.
She sniffed. "Ok," she called back.
"All right, now I'm going to throw it down and I want you to grab it, and I need you to wrap it around your waist and tie it as tight as you possibly can, without hindering breathing. Then I'm gonna try to pull you up, OK?" I tossed the rope down and she tied it around her waist. I then began to attempt to pull her up. It was slow going, however, as I am not one of the strongest people in the world. Then, the dog grabbed the end of the rope and began to tug as if he were playing tug-of-war. He pulled on it with incredible strength, and it was that which told me that it was not a normal dog. That and the fact that it seemed to show up at the right time and place, with the rope that I needed at the exact time that I needed it. That could not have been a coincidence. I began to think, once more, that something rather odd was going on. But I did not have time to worry about it. The dog and I finished pulling up the girl, and checked her over to make sure that she was basically ok. She had a rather terribly twisted ankle, but other than that, all she had only a few scratches and bruises.
"Are you ok?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "I think I'm ok. My leg hurts though." She clutched her leg and moaned in pain.
"Where do you live?" I asked. "We've got to get you home."
She pointed to the east. "Over there," she said. "My mother and I live in a cabin less than a mile from here."
I carried her back in that general direction and she guided me toward the exact location of the cabin. Once there, we went inside and were greeted by her mother, a short, blond woman of about thirty, who was obviously worried about her daughter. When I arrived, she immediately felt relieved, and proceeded to thank me (and the dog) several times. She then invited us, or at least me, in for some tea. I thought this rather odd, because it was about one in the morning now, but I politely accepted. While there, I proceeded to basically tell her a lot of things about why we were here, how I'd saved her daughter, and basic other conversation. She also told me practically her whole life story. (this was somewhat boring, but I paid attention courteously). When I finally departed, it was about three in the morning, and I was exhausted. Not as exhausted as I might have been if I hadn't drank all of that bloody tea, but still tired. I dragged myself back to the tent, to find Peter still not there.
I was too tired to care at that point, and collapsed on to my sleeping bag and immediately fell asleep. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I could see that the dog was making itself comfortable on Peter's bed. After that, I fell asleep.
In the morning, I awoke rather late to find Peter in his sleeping bag. He was sound asleep. I was relieved that he was all right, but was still mystified as to where he'd been all night.
"Peter?" I asked. "Where in God's name were you all night?"
Peter merely moaned in response. I shook him, and he finally awoke from what must have been a rather deep slumber.
"Peter?" I asked again. "Are you all right?"
Peter moaned at me. "Yeah, I'm fine, Davy. " He yawned and stretched.
I sighed. "Peter, you've got to tell me what's going on here. I knew something was wrong, and I still think so. What are you hiding from me?" I demanded.
"I guess I should tell you, Davy. You're liable to find out anyway. When I came here, I arrived at the place where Mike was purely by accident. I was bitten by a wolf. Not any ordinary wolf, though, but a werewolf." At this my eyebrows rose. "I know you're not going to believe me, Davy, but it's all true. I've gained the ability to turn into a cute, lovable, semi-deadly puppy." He proceeded to tell me the details of how he'd arrived at Fiona's, how Pierre had been killed, and how Mike and Fiona knew the truth.
"Are you like this forever, Peter?" I asked.
"I don't know," Peter said. "I guess so, but there's still a small chance that Fiona will find something in her gigantic book of spells and stuff that can cure me. I doubt it, though."
Now that I had some answers, it was not at all what I expected. I was shocked. I felt somewhat awkward, and I did not know what to say. "Peter," I said. " I don't know what to say. I mean I knew something weird was going on, but this is weirder than I expected."
"I know, " Peter responded. "It's not exactly one of those normal things. I have to admit that I'm not used to it either." I didn't know what to say. I sat there, dumbfounded. "I think we should be going now, Davy." Peter said, breaking the silence.
"Huh?" I asked. "Oh yeah, moving on." I was still halfway stunned by all of this. As if in a trance, I helped Pete to pack up all of our stuff. We didn't bother with breakfast, since we weren't hungry. We collapsed the tent, and headed off in the direction we'd assumed was the way to our car.
When we finally arrived at the car, it was two days later. The car was not under as much snow as we'd thought. We were actually able to see it a mile or so from its location. We ran up to the car.
"Well, it looks pretty much ok," Peter said, glancing at it.
"Yeah, our only problem was that we were stuck. The car itself seemed to be fine," I said.
"Well, the snow is pretty much melted around the car now," Peter said. We both got into the car and tried to start it up. This succeeded. However, I observed that the gas tank was only half-full.
"Hey, Pete, you think that'll be enough to get the car back to the cabin?" I asked.
"I dunno, I guess it probably should. I mean I'm not a mechanic," Peter said. We decided to at least try to drive the car back to the cabin. I started it up. We went along rather slowly, as there was no road. Whenever we got stuck, Peter and I would go out and dig through the snow. It was very, very slow going (with emphasis on very slow), but it only took us about three days to return to the cabin.
When we finally arrived at the cabin, we were exhausted. We drove up to the cabin and parked in front of the house. I, for one, was shocked that the old clinker had gotten us that far. I'd also been surprised that it had gotten us to Alaska. It was a rather raggedy old jalopy.
We got out of the car and walked up to the cabin.
"Hey Fiona," Peter called. She stuck her head out the door.
"Hey guys," she called. " Glad to see you again. Mike and Micky aren't back yet."
"Should that be something to worry about?" I asked.
"No, I wouldn't worry," she said. "It's a long drive. They should be back some time in the next few days."
"Good," I said. Actually, despite her reassurances, I was still a tad worried, but I didn't tell anyone.
We went into the house where Fiona was cooking a pot of soup, ate, and went to bed, happy that at least some of our mission was accomplished.
Mike and Micky arrived a few days later. Peter and I were outside because we'd gone out to chop some more firewood. We were returning to the cabin when Mike drove the sputtering car up to the cabin. Peter and I immediately dropped the firewood and ran up to the car.
"Mike, you're back," Peter said, running up to the car. Mike got out of the car, and Micky followed soon after with the dogs and the sled.
"Oh, gee, thanks for the warm welcome, guys," Micky said, obviously disappointed no one had yelled his name. He looked around, got a big grin on his face, and said," Micky, you're back. " He paused a second before continuing," Yes, I know, and it's great to be back." He then began to unhook the dogs.
"Micky, you're back," I said, somewhat over dramatizing.
"Yes, and its great to be back," Micky said, over dramatizing just as much. "Have any food for these beasts?"
To this remark Peter went to Micky and said, " Micky, don't call them that. They have feelings just like us." He looked at Micky with a serene and pleading look on his face.
Fiona popped her head out the door, interrupting. (again) "Well don't just stand there," she said. "Come inside. And bring that firewood, too," she added.
We all headed in to the house and then enjoyed a delicious dinner of roast beef. Afterward, Peter excused himself and asked Mike if he could talk to him for a second, outside. Mike looked puzzled, but agreed, and they both went outside.
"So Micky, how was your expedition?" I asked, trying to begin a conversation.
"Well," Micky began. "It was long, cold, tedious, and tiring. But other than that, it was wonderful. "
"Really?" I asked. "Do tell."
"Well, it all started out calm. We traveled along at a pretty fast speed. No wolves, bears, or any sign of life. Then, after we had been traveling for a few days, with no sign of the car, Mike decided to scout a little. I stayed behind. Mike was gone for a day, and when he returned, he said that he'd found the car. How he managed I'll never know, but he definitely did so. A day later, we were at the car and ready to head on back here. Good thing, too, I didn't think I'd be able to spend another day with those beasts," he added.
"Don't let Peter hear you say that," I warned.
"Why not?" Micky asked. " Oh, yeah, he'll do the old ' they've got feelings, too' speech."
"Just don't. And don't make fun of Pete like that. He's right you know," Fiona said. Micky rolled his eyes. " Here they come now," she added.
Micky was about to ask how she knew that when Mike and Peter walked in the door.
"Oh, guys, if it isn't too much trouble, could one of you go out and get me some firewood," Fiona asked, before Micky could ask the question. "I'm really running low."
"I'll go," Mike volunteered. "I've already got my jacket on, and I insist," he said before anyone could protest, and grabbed the axe and went out the door. Micky, Peter, Fiona, and I just looked at each other in amazement at his insistence. At least that's why I looked at them. I don't know why they looked at me.
A half an hour later, Mike opened the door to the cabin and stood there in the doorway. His eyes were bloodshot. We all looked at him, concerned.
"Hey Mike, are you all right?" Micky asked, concerned. Peter got up, went to Mike and helped him in the door. He lead him to the couch and laid him down. Micky repeated his question, but got no response. Mike merely moaned in response and gripped his stomach in pain.
Fiona went over to him and felt his forehead. "He's burning up," she said, and we all helped Mike to remove his heavy coat. Then Fiona looked into his eyes. I could tell she was trying to get into his soul, to see inside. She wasn't getting much, I could tell because she looked frustrated. Then, suddenly, she screamed at the top of her lungs and fell backwards. Attention shifted to her. Peter looked into her eyes in the same manner that she'd looked into Mike's.
"Mr. Dobbelina's been there," he said, seriously.
"Peter, this is no time for a song," Micky said, looking at Peter in exasperation.
"But it's true, Mick, nothing's in there," Peter said.
" I don't get it," Micky said.
"No, Micky, that's my line," I said. " I don't get it either."
"Oh, sorry, Davy," Micky said. " But Pete, why is there nothing in there?" he asked.
Peter shrugged. He went over to Mike, but Mike yelled, " No, go away!"
"It's just me, Mike, you know, Peter," Peter said, trying to calm him down.
"No, leave me alone," Mike said. He got up and ran out the door. Peter ran after him. Neither of them brought their coats. I looked at Micky in a questioning way, as if to ask if we should follow. Through this wordless speech, we decided it would be better to stay behind, which we did.
Ten minutes later, Peter returned, out of breath and obviously freezing. Fiona, who had recovered by then, went over to him with a blanket. She wrapped it around him and led him to the fire.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I lost him," Pete said, hanging his head. " Is it too late?"
"It's never too late," she said.
"Do you think we should tell them?" he asked.
"I think you should spare them for now," she said.
Micky and I looked at each other, lost as to what the main point of the conversation was. We didn't know what they were talking about.
Outside, Mike was in the woods about a mile from the cabin. He stood and looked up at the sky, shivering and holding his stomach. He looked up and saw the full moon.
"Oh, no," he thought. " What is happening to me? Peter was right." Then, Mike lost conscious thought and moaned in pain.
Then, the incredible change happened. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground. He put his hands on the ground to stop himself from falling, but then his hands began to change. His fingers moved together and the hair on his arms grew longer, almost engulfing him like a wave, until it covered his body. His arms grew longer, to the length of his legs, his back arched, and Mike was replaced by a humongous wolf. The wolf howled, a long, mournful howl, and ran off in the direction of the cabin.
Back in the cabin, we all looked up and I felt a chill run down my spine as we heard a long, piercing wolf howl.
