The Werewarg
(This is the true story what I told at the recent Mathom Tale Tea, hosted by the Grand Order of the Lost Mathom – guests were invited to bring along and talk about an object for their mathom experts to appraise.)
There are some who say that I make stuff up – but I have in my pocket something which will prove beyond any doubt the veracity of the short tale I am about to tell.
It happened that one day I was up by Overhill, close by the edge of Bindbole Wood. I’d ridden old Dobbin up there to see old Gammer Boffin – she makes a very special kind of ink what I use for writing down my tales.
As I was leading that lazy pony of mine back along the edge of the wood I noticed a little hut among the trees, a little way off the road, and from inside I could hear a muffled sniffling sound and when I came closer, I realised that someone was inside weeping most pitifully.
I tried the door straight away and it was open, and the sight I saw then in the half-light was terrible to behold. A young girl lay there on a bed of straw, her clothes all creased and torn and her long brown hair hanging round her shoulders in tangles and covered in leaves and twigs. Most terrible of all, her legs were bound in iron shackles and one arm was tied to the wall by a chain.
As I looked at her tear-stained face, all covered in dirt and mud, she looked at me with pleading eyes. I saw a big key hanging on a hook by the door and without a second thought I set her free and had her up behind me on Dobbin’s back. We rode all the way home as fast as that fat pony’s legs could carry us!
Well, it was late by now, but she looked hungry, and I had a nice bit of ham left over from tea and I have to say she wolfed it down in no time. That girl hadn’t uttered a single word, and I wondered what to do, so I showed her into my spare room, and she lay down on the bed and fell straight to sleep.
I quietly closed the door behind her, locked the front door and went to my own bed, where I soon fell asleep as well.
I’m not sure what time it was when I was woken by a terrible growling and scratching from outside my room. As I sat bolt upright in bed, I saw the full moon shining in through my bedroom window. I went to the door and opened it just a crack. What I saw will live with me for the rest of my days!
There in my hallway, clearly lit by my little night light, I saw something on four legs throwing itself against my front door in rage, then jumping up and scratching at the wood. The creature had a huge head and pointed snout and clinging to its body, which was covered in grey fur, I saw the remains of that young girl’s clothing. For a moment it turned towards me, and it opened its slavering jaws, revealing two rows of large, white pointed teeth.
It turned and renewed its attack on the front door, jumping up and scratching at the wooden panels in fury until, with one final lunge, it broke the door down and ran off into the night with a series of blood curdling howls.
Once I was able to recover my composure I examined the remains of the door – and this is what I discovered embedded in the wood.
Hooked Warg Claw.
It were a Werewarg – and you has been warned. I reckon she’s still out there!
