گرگینه ی باتلاق فیور فصل 19

The Werewolf of Fever Swamp - Chapter 19

That night I didn’t hear the howls.

I woke up in the middle of the night and stared out the window. Wolf was gone, probably exploring the swamp. In the morning, I knew he’d come running back to greet me as if I were a long lost friend.

The next morning Will showed up just as I was giving Wolf his breakfast, a big bowl of crunchy, dry dog food. “Hey, what’s up?” Will asked, his usual greeting.

“Nothing much,” I said. I rolled up the top of the big bag of dog food and dragged it back into the kitchen. Wolf stood over his bowl, his head lowered, chewing noisily away.

I pushed open the screen door and returned to Will. He was wearing a dark blue muscle shirt and black Lycra bike shorts. He had a green-and-yellow Forest Service cap pulled down over his dark hair.

“Want to go exploring?” he asked in his hoarse voice, watching Wolf hungrily gobble down his breakfast. “You know. In the swamp?”

“Yeah. Sure,” I said. I called inside to tell my parents where I was going. Then I followed Will across the back lawn toward the swamp.

Wolf came scampering after us. He’d run past us, then let us catch up. Then he’d run in crazy zigzags in front of us, behind us, romping happily under the hot morning sun.

“Did you hear about Mr. Warner?” Will asked. He stopped to pick up a long blade of grass and put it between his teeth.

“Who?”

“Ed Warner,” Will replied. “I guess you haven’t met the Warners yet. They live in the very last house.” He turned and pointed behind us to the last white house at the end of the row of white houses.

“What about him?” I asked, nearly tripping over Wolf, who had come rumbling past my feet.

“He’s missing,” Will replied, chewing on the grass blade. “He didn’t come home last night.”

“Huh? From where?” I asked, turning to stare at the Warners’ house. Heat waves shimmered up from the grass, making the house appear to bend and quiver.

“From the swamp,” Will replied darkly. “Mrs. Warner called my mom this morning. She said Mr. Warner went hunting yesterday afternoon. He likes to hunt wild turkeys. He took me with him a couple times. He’s real good at chasing them down. When he kills one, he hangs its feet up on his den wall.” “He does?” I cried. It sounded pretty gross to me.

“Yeah. You know. Like a trophy,” Will continued. “Anyway, he went hunting wild turkeys in the swamp yesterday afternoon, and he hasn’t come home.” “Weird,” I said, watching Wolf stop at the edge of the trees. “Maybe he got lost.” “No way,” Will insisted, shaking his head. “Not Mr. Warner. He’s lived here a long time. He was the first one to move here. Mr. Warner wouldn’t get lost.” “Then maybe the werewolf got him!” called a strange voice behind us.