[Memory of Trees]

Adelard never had a chance to answer her question. He turned as if to speak to her, and then everything began to happen so fast that May could only watch in horror. A massive, grey-furred animal leapt snarling from the darkened woods and knocked him to the ground, sinking its great teeth into his pudgy arm. She screamed in shock as blood squirted from the wound, splattering crimson on the ground.

Then came a cry behind her and Henry ran forward, whirling a burning branch wildly above his head and yelling at the top of his lungs. May caught on at once. Catching up the torch from Henry as he ran past her, she thrust a fallen tree branch into the fire. The dry wood crackled and burst at once into flame, sending a shower of sparks flying out through the air as she spun it out in front of her.

May didn’t go rushing forward as Henry had. She advanced slowly upon the wolf, waving her burning stick in front of her, because she knew that wolves do not often hunt alone, and she was not going to be caught unawares. May stood about four feet away before the wolf took notice of her. He lifted his great shaggy head, Adelard’s limp arm still dangling from his mouth, and stared directly into her eyes.

It was as if all time had stopped. The howling of the wolves and cries of the children and the roaring of the flame in her hand ceased to be for May, and there was only she and the wolf; all the rest of the world had faded away, was no longer important. And May thought had never seen something so proud, so beautiful in her entire life as when she stared into the eyes of that wolf, so majestic, and above all, wild.

But the evil in his eyes betrayed him, and May raised her chin and glared right back the snarling wolf, the flaming branch in her hand. She stared into the hateful eyes of the wolf, and she laughed. There May was, in the middle of the forest, surrounded by wolves and alone, and she laughed in his face. She laughed because she was not afraid. She laughed and laughed, because her name was Mayflower Chubb, and she was stronger than the wolf. May threw her head back and howled like a wolf, spinning her flame around her head, laughing wildly because she could.

Then May released the branch, and it kept on spinning right smack into the wolf, and it clung to his thick fur, and he yelped as his it caught fire. The wolf turned tail and ran howling back into the forest, trailing sparks from his coat. And time went back to normal, and May saw Henry standing and staring at her. She stopped laughing, because there was nothing funny about what she saw next.

Huge, snarling wolves were coming into the clearing from every possible angle, and now May had no stick. They were completely and hopelessly surrounded. I’m going to die, she thought numbly. All this, and now I’m going to die.

But May didn’t, for at that moment a shout came from the forest and help came crashing up to them, yelling and brandishing torches and sticks. May felt weak with relief as they immediately started in on the wolves, but had the presence of mind to check on the unmoving Adelard. She hurried to his side, and at first she was horrified by the thought that he might be dead. The boy lay still and pale, and his arm was turned a funny way. But no, he had just fainted, she realized to her relief. The arm looked broken, though.

“Oh, Adelard!” May sighed as she knelt beside him. “Why couldn’t you just stay home? Then none of this would have happened to you! Of all the vexing boys in the world…” But as she spoke poor Adelard turned and moaned feverishly, and her brow furrowed with concern. The sounds of the “battle” around her had become quieter, and she knew the wolves would soon be driven off.

Reaching forward, she took the boy’s good hand. It was hot and dirty, and she pressed it between her own cool hands. “It’ll be all right soon,” she crooned, and then fiercely, “But I hope you know, Adelard Proudfoot, that you very well could have been killed!”