Otter Creek Blood Stains on the Collar Means Just Don’t Ask

Herod reclined beneath the towering boughs of a great alder. His posture was regal, his golden eyes fixed in steady contemplation. Two servants hovered nearby, their sole duty to ward off the biting insects that dared to disturb their master's stillness. Yet, their presence was hardly noted by the lion. The air hung heavy with tension, though none dared to speak it aloud. The Abbot's golden eyes, sharp and calculating, remained fixed upon the makeshift den where Hasdrubal lay resting. The boy would stir soon--of this, Herod was certain. It was only a matter of days, and once he awoke, the journey back to Godsmouth could begin in earnest.

Yet a small, unsettling notion gnawed at the edge of Herod’s mind. The boy had fled once; What assurance did Herod have that Hasdrubal would not attempt the same again? He would need a tether, a reason so compelling that even the wild, untamed heart of the boy would find no escape.

Tricky, tricky, Herod mused, his tail flicking against the forest floor in a languid rhythm, setting eddies of fallen leaves aloft.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement shattered his reverie. From the shadows, a head emerged, its paleness catching the light of the noon sun. A wave of relief washed over Herod, palpable as the sigh that escaped his lips, and for the first time in weeks, the tension in his shoulders eased. He rose to his feet, dusting the dirt and forest debris from his golden coat, each movement composed, though his heart beat with urgency.

Herod’s attention shifted to the wolf standing beside him, his lips curling into a smile that was more command than warmth. His voice, smooth as velvet and heavy with authority, resonated through the clearing like the toll of a bell. Butcher the calf. Separate half of the meat with care--the hooves, hide, and horns are to be preserved in their entirety. These are to be delivered to Ransem with the utmost haste. And see to it that the finest morsels along the riverbanks are gathered as well. We are to prepare a feast, for it seems a celebration is in order, my son.

There was no hesitation in the command, and none in the wolf's swift acknowledgment. Yet Herod’s attention had already shifted. His gaze fell upon the second servant, his tone softening, though no less suffused with power. Seek out Elveera and inform her that Hasdrubal has awakened. She is to teach another all that is required for his care, that she might take her rest at last. Her tireless dedication has not gone unnoticed, and soon, very soon, we shall return to the hallowed site and complete what has been set in motion.

The servants, like shadows given purpose, scurried away, swift to fulfill their master’s bidding, leaving Herod alone with his thoughts once more. He stood for a moment longer, allowing the breeze to rustle his silvering fur. A week had passed since the boy had fallen into this restless sleep, and though the land had endured storms and rains, Herod could not shake the sense that their window of safety was swiftly closing. Time, once plentiful, now felt fleeting. They would not camp here long.

And so, with measured steps, the lion began his descent toward the boy, his mind preparing for the conversation that awaited.