***Based on the Wolf Girl folklore.
This takes place in Devil's River, Texas, 1852 (and the main Character has a British accent, he's from Massachusetts originally). This is fiction (obvi), and is based off of a story idea of mine.***
It rained heavily, the gray sky ripping open and pouring down its excess upon us. Though accompanied with the rain normally comes a sticky humidity I could never get used too, today decided to play a card trick. I hadn't been this cold since leaving Boston. The trees in the surrounding were even weighed down by the sheer velocity and heft of the rain. Due to the fog, I couldn't make out past the first layer of trees, yet wondered if I even wanted to. I wasn't completely sure what business we had here; all I knew is it was in that forest.
There was maybe a score of us on each side at the edge of the woods, lined up for the commander.
A big man the commander was—someone who didn't need to demand respect in order to receive it. He was terrifying, and had been terrifying since the day I initially met him.
He walked slowly down the aisle of militia soldiers, loosely inspecting us as he pondered his upcoming speech. His boots splashed heavily and slowly in the muddied earth, splattering upon not only his trousers, but most of his men's as well.
As the rain poured through my hair and down my eyes, I had to resist every urge in me not to raise my hands to wipe them. Heaven only knew what would happen to me.
He stopped at the far end of the line. All was quiet between us soldiers but the torrentuous rain.
He turned to face the men, who were still as stone and waiting for further instructions.
"Men," he said in that Texan drawl I could never find myself getting used to. "...Men, we all know why we're here.
"A devil is among us—sent straight from Satan himself. Worse than a Jezebel, and worse than any demon you could conjure up in your wildest imaginations. I'm sure you've heard the stories. But this is no story, men. This is reality."
The rain continued to pour.
"This demonic presence has haunted the area long enough. The citizens have lost livestock. They've lost their wives and children. They've even lost their own lives.
"We're gathered here to put an end to this evil. It's lived on for long enou—"
"Sir?"
He stopped, and turned to look at me with a vexed flash in his eyes. The other soldiers remained enstatued, knowing better than I apparently did. Walking over with heavy, meticulous footsteps, he stopped in front of mine, our boot tips only an inch apart. I stared forward, knowing not to look him in the eyes.
"Private Johnson. Why am I *not* surprised," he guffawed. His sole laughter quickly died away into a scowl. "This better be some life-altering information you just so needed to share, for you to interrupt your commanding officer."
I swallowed, struggling to let the words leave my tongue. "Commander Briggs, you've yet to say what exactly it is we're here to battle. I realiz—"
"What we're here to battle?" He interrupted. "Oh, of course," he said, to himself and possibly to the other men, "how could I forget. Johnson is new here. Meaning, of course, he ain't *accustomed* to how things are done down here.
"This ain't jolly old New England, soldier. You ain't gun' sit here and drink your tea, polishing your gun while you wait for the Brits." He allowed it when the other men chuckled quietly around him, as they had ever since my arrival a fortnight ago.
He laughed as well.
"Private Johnson wants to know what we're battling. What do you think, Johnson? I would *love* if you took a couple guesses. Who are we battling? The Brits? The Spaniards? The Indians?"
He and the men had a good chuckle in my silence. The rain continued to pour violently, causing me to shiver.
He stopped laughing. The men followed suit. The commander lowered his face towards mine. "Look me in th'eyes, soldier!"
I tilted my jaw upward slowly, shrinking back as much as not moving would allow. His steel blue eyes drilled into mine remorselessly. Course facial hair took up the majority of his face, hardening the edges of his square jaw.
"You wanna know who we're fighting, Private?" Lightning cracked, followed by a bellowing rumble of thunder. The rain fell harder, almost sharp enough to be ice.
He pointed back into the woods. "We're fighting a demon."
He stared into my soul, waiting for a reaction. No demon could terrify me more than him in that moment... I knew what he was capable of. And, more importantly, what I was *not* capable of.
When I didn't answer, he decided to elaborate.
"It was first seen here years ago, by a young boy. Luckily, he was able to escape with his life, yet told a tale so horrifying, no one could come up with a satisfactory explanation.
"It takes two forms, so don't be fooled by either, Private. Though I doubt you'll live to see the light of day if you even see it."
"B-but, sir—with permission... what is it? What kind of devil is it? Is it a man possessed?
"Not a man, boy—a wolf!"
Silence was taken hold by the rain. The hidden sun was setting, turning the sky to a shade of fogged black.
"A she-wolf," he said. "Some people even say it looks like a woman. But don't be fooled, Johnson. This is no beast, and it certainly ain't no woman. It's a devil in human skin.
"The locals believe it was a girl, raised by the wolves who killed her parents. Suckled and nurtured like a pup, and raised to be a creature of the night. Dozens of people have seen it.
"But that's just wive's tales. Anyone smart enough can see the truth. It's an evil, brought here over 30 years ago. And we're here to kill it, Private.
"It's got the looks of both a wolf and a woman. Clothed only in blonde hair, accustomed to live only with its 'fellow' animals, trained to massacre like a heartless savage. It's been seen ripping apart a man twice your size with the ease of a man ripping into a leg of cooked chicken.
"This is no legend, private. It's evil in earthly skin."
As the words set in, they only made less and less sense. A demon? A woman, who's also a wolf? How could any of it make sense?
"C-commander? How is it that you're sure it's a devil? Is the story of a babe being raised by wolves any less believable than that?"
He scoffed in my face. "Very well, Private. You make a good point. But, there's one flaw in that story that doesn't quite add up..."
He got closer, nearly whispering.
"Of the most recent sightings, men have not only reported all of the previous information, all adding up perfectly with the demon's description, but, they found that she *understood their conversations*."
He saw the shock in my face, even in the enclosing darkness.
"How could a girl raised by wolves understand human talking? She was able to disable my men's guns just from listening to them discuss it amongst themselves. How could a babe learn to understand even before it knew how to speak?
"No, Private. This is no woman. It's a devil disguised as a wolf."
ns 15.158.61.52da2
