ther than the crunch of twigs beneath our feet and the occasional pensive hoot of an owl in the distance, all remained quiet.
Of course, this had less to do with the tension between the members of my group and more to do with the enormous wolves forcibly escorting us through the Forbidden Forest. They hadn’t exactly said anything to us. But for the past half hour they’d made what they wanted pretty clear. They simply herded us along, pushing us deeper into the trees with their growls and massive bodies.
As we traveled, it crossed my mind to break out my wand. But, tempting as it was, four giant monsters against a girl with a spear didn’t seem to offer the best odds. I was gutsy, not stupid. These things could probably swallow me whole in one bite.
In accord with this, the other thought that consumed my mind as we walked was why they hadn’t just eaten us already? Were they taking us back to their lair to share the wealth with their wolf friends? Or did we just need to be seasoned properly before being swallowed?
I caught glimpses of my friends’ faces during the seemingly endless journey. Blue looked terrified, making me feel sorry for her. She really had gotten the shortest end of the stick with the watering can, especially given our current situation.
The others seemed solemn—no doubt wondering how this wolf situation could play out. However, as I observed them I realized that there was something more to their expressions than that. Or rather, something less. Now that I had the chance to really notice, I saw just how empty they all appeared, even Daniel.
It was strange to think that a person’s personality could be so dependent on one defining characteristic, and that without it they became ghosts of their former selves. It made me feel guilty. I mean, here they were, my friends, their natures changed like unicorns with their horns ripped off—while I remained unscathed.
The thing was, not only did I feel guilty, I also felt kind of insulted.
How dare that awful little witch call me “not finished” like I was some haphazard arts-and-crafts project?
I glared at my palm. The blur persisted, mocking me with its lack of clarity.
My self-pity was put into perspective a minute later when we came upon a massive cave guarded by several other epically-sized wolves. Out of instinct I stopped in my tracks. But I was pushed forward in the next moment by the growling wolf behind me.
Hesitantly, I continued with the rest of the pack through the cavern’s opening.
Freaking out, freaking out, freaking out.
On our way down, the cave merged with several other tunnels like an underground maze. As we descended farther into the labyrinth’s heart, I noticed the usual accouterments—bats hanging from the ceiling, undergrowth here and there, bones scattered periodically, and torches lining the walkway. Although I didn’t quite get how wolves would go about lighting torches in the first place.
The atmosphere went from terrifying and eerie to terrifying and confusing as we began to pass shelves built into the cave’s walls. It wasn’t so much the shelves themselves that raised our eyebrows (the craftsmanship wasn’t that bad). But the contents that sat upon them were weird. There were ballet shoes, wigs, musical instruments, and a bunch of other strange junk.
What, did they just eat a theatre troupe for breakfast and an orchestra for lunch?
It wasn’t long before we entered an immense round room, no doubt the center of the tunnel system. It was lit from every angle by torches and had a high roof that converged into a point like a pyramid. Tree roots from the outside world poked through—some gripping the ceiling tightly, others dangling out as if reaching for us.
Built into the front of the room was an impressive stage. It was elevated at least fifteen feet above the floor and was adorned with meaty red velvet curtains.
What really caught my attention, though, were the people in the room. They were hammering, painting, dancing. Many seemed perfectly content. But maybe fifty or sixty of them were working with balls and chains shackled to their ankles.
I felt like I wanted to ask a question, but I couldn’t think of the right one to pose. It was all so random. Before I could form the words, the wolves herded us into the center of the room and circled us like prey.
Seriously, is this how it ends—eaten by wolves in an underground community theater?
I was truly expecting them to lunge at us, and I slipped my hand into my satchel in preparation, ready to go down fighting. But instead of attacking, each wolf was abruptly consumed by an emerald tornado.
The vortexes appeared out of nowhere and expanded rapidly—shrouding the theater in a thick cloud. After a few seconds the smoke faded away. In place of the colossal wolves were ordinary-looking people, all of whom were dressed up and possessed glowing green eyes.
A man emerged on the stage behind them. He had orangey hair, a suspicious mole, and wore a petticoat with matching teal tights.
Yes, you read that correctly. Teal tights.
He descended the stage and bowed to us formally. “Welcome, children,” he said. “I am Gustaf Pepperjack.”
As he bowed, a chain around his neck dangled forward and I caught a glimpse of the big ring that was hanging from it. It was gold and tacky, like a cross between a prize from a cereal box and a promise ring a teenaged boy might give to a steady girlfriend. The stone set into the ring was as bright and deeply green as the eyes of Mr. Pepperjack’s colleagues.
Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Werewolves? Really? That’s kind of predictable isn’t it?”
A girl at my twelve o’clock with big curls and bigger eyebrows crossed her arms. “We are not Werewolves,” she said. “We are Therewolves.”
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. What now?”
“Therewolves,” Pepperjack repeated. “The ‘th’ is an abbreviation of Thespian.”
“Is that kind of like a windsurfer?” Jason asked.
“Thespians are actors,” I whispered to him.
Pepperjack shrugged. “We prefer Performance Artists or Stage Masters or—”
“Scripted Chameleons,” another Therewolf added.
“Sydney, we vetoed that name at our last table read. Let it go, man,” Pepperjack growled.
The two continued arguing, and I took advantage of the distraction as best I could.
Looking around, I knew there was still no way we could fight them all and win. But after seeing the imprisoned workers, I got the feeling that whatever they had in store for us didn’t involve a quick execution. Which meant there would be time to think of an escape plan later. In the meantime, since these creatures were humans as much as they were wolves, I didn’t want them to discover my wand and find out about my magic. I had to camouflage it, fast.
I subtly dipped my hand into my satchel, grasping the wand tightly.
Okay, don’t transform it into anything too fancy. Just pick something commonplace.
Pepperjack suddenly removed his glove and slapped Sydney across the face with it before throwing it to the ground.
Snap! I have never seen anyone literally and figuratively throw down the gauntlet. I guess I can check witnessing the fulfillment of an age-old idiom off my bucket list.
Sadly, Sydney did not accept the challenge. He looked like he wanted to at first, but Pepperjack’s daggering stare stole whatever courage he’d been mustering. He simply rubbed his bruised cheek, sucked in his equally injured pride, and stepped back subserviently to join the other Therewolves.
I hurriedly concentrated on the first weapon that came to mind and morphed my wand into a kitchen knife.
“As I was saying,” Pepperjack continued as he readdressed us. “To use the peasant and overly colloquial term—we are actors. To be precise, we are a race of hyper-talented actors that transform into giant, hyper-intelligent wolves.”
Jason scratched his head, trying to understand the strange revelation. “So . . . what do you weirdos want with us exactly?” he asked.
“Jason, do not be a moron,” SJ said. “They obviously want to eat us.”
“They come anywhere near me and I’m stabbing them in the sternum and making a break for it,” he replied bluntly. “The way I see it, I don’t have to outrun them; I just have to outrun a few of you.”
“Will you shut it?” SJ huffed. “Just because you can only think of yourself now does not mean you have to say every awful thing that comes into your simpleton head.”
“Says the princess donning a new heart of darkness,” Jason responded. “You can’t speak without it being an insult. Right now you have more in common with your witchy step-grandma than you do with your own mother.”
“Take that back,” SJ barked.
“Make me,” he responded.
I saw SJ reach for her slingshot, but I rushed between her and Jason before she could shoot any potions at him. If she opened fire now these Therewolves would kill us first and ask questions later. We needed time.
Surprisingly, Daniel also stepped in. He pried Jason farther away from SJ and told him to cool it. Even more surprisingly, Jason listened.
As the Therewolves snickered at us, I delicately put my hand over SJ’s, which was holding her slingshot. “Not now,” I muttered under my breath. She tensed at first but thankfully released her grip on the weapon.
Geez, that was close. That tiny witch in the Valley had been right; it was easy for people to turn on each other when they weren’t themselves. I almost just witnessed two of my best friends—and two of the nicest people I’ve ever met—get into an all-out brawl.
Pepperjack cleared his throat, calling everyone’s attention back to him. “Well now, that was . . . spirited,” he said. “I guess we will have to assign you children to different groups.”
“Groups?” Daniel repeated.
“Yes,” Pepperjack replied. “You will all be assigned to different work groups to help out our troupe.”
“So you’re not going to eat us then?” Blue stammered.
Pepperjack chuckled. “Oh no, we’re definitely going to eat you, but not until after the show. You see, we Therewolves roam the Forbidden Forest hunting travelers for three reasons. First and foremost, we like to have audiences for our theatrical productions, even if they are being held against their will. Second, good stagehands are hard to find and the free labor our prisoners provide helps us mount the most lavish of shows.”
“And the third reason?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea of the answer.
“Naturally,” Pepperjack mused, “so we can have food at the after-party. Now come, opening night is in two weeks and we’re dreadfully behind with costume design.”