Following the elf's directions, they headed south. A farm stood not far beyond the main road.

Jess remembered that worgen occupied one of the many abandoned farms south of the main road through Duskwood. Long before they drew near, he was already watching their surroundings with extreme vigilance.

They had traveled for a day and a night without seeing any trace of worgen, so both had begun doubting Morgan's story. But an unlikely danger was still a danger. If they ignored it completely and truly encountered one, they would pay dearly.

After all, Gred did not even know what worgen were. If a fight began, that ignorance would put him at a disadvantage.

They hid behind the trunk of an old oak that looked black and nearly dead, peering sideways toward the farm. Gred pointed at the solitary mill standing opposite the barn. "Is that the windmill he meant?"

"It has one sail left, so probably." Jess pointed toward the wildly overgrown short trees and bushes covering the fence at the farm's distant edge. "We'll approach from there."

Gred traced the fence with his gaze, rubbed the lower leg the elf had cut, and sighed from exhaustion.

He glanced across the flat abandoned field overgrown with weeds. "There doesn't seem to be anything alive out there."

"Remember the cemetery? What happened this morning?" Jess asked.

The peaceful cemetery had suddenly become a stronghold teeming with undead after they climbed from the crypt. No one could possibly forget that for the rest of their life.

The dwarf clearly understood. He stared into Jess's eyes for a moment, then silently slid into a trench-like depression on the right, somewhat lower than the surrounding ground.

They followed the edge of the farm fence toward the mill. The sky had grown darker than before and looked ready to turn fully black.

"Once we've searched this farm, we're going back no matter what, Gred," Jess said. "The people of Raven Hill have survived here for years. Whether their worgen stories are true or not, those stories at least show that the night is dangerous."

"Perhaps, but after coming this far, returning empty-handed would be too pathetic," the dwarf said, clearly dissatisfied. "Even if we don't find much, we should at least search one more place. We're so close to the main road that this is much safer than where we found the Kingsblood."

"Could the elf be trying to lure us here and get us killed?" Jess whispered. "We humiliated him rather badly."

Gred looked back as he crept forward. "I've considered that too. But what danger could be here? His companions waiting in ambush? There wouldn't be much point. Or is the farm surrounded by ghouls? It doesn't look that way. Still, I can't say for certain. We can only be careful."

Jess asked, "Being careful means walking straight through the middle of the field?"

"Who said I was walking through the middle?" the dwarf protested anxiously, then turned and continued forward.

Jess sighed. Before he could say anything, Gred suddenly looked back and pressed one finger to his lips.

What was it?

Gred silently shaped the words, "There's a wolf."

Jess raised his head slightly and looked around but saw nothing.

After a full day of training his eyes, he could now spot Silverleaf among the bushes. Surely a wolf could not hide from him.

"Are you sure?" he breathed beside Gred's ear.

Gred wrinkled his nose. "Smell."

Good grief. Wolves were cautious animals skilled at concealing their tracks, and he could detect one by scent? Did dwarves possess some special ability?

Jess tried sniffing the air. Naturally, he noticed nothing.

But Gred would not invent trouble for no reason. Jess slowed, crouched lower, and crept after him.

The mill was less than sixty feet ahead, yet no wolf appeared.

Jess looked up. The lone remaining sail drooped from the tall windmill, making the building resemble an immense knight clad in gray scales, standing in the darkness with one hand resting on a broad sword.

Gred crouched and watched for a long time, waiting for the possible beast to expose itself, but nothing clearly moved.

"Strange." His nose twitched. He whispered, "Let's go inside."

Jess nodded and felt his way along the mill wall. As soon as he approached the doorway, he heard a series of faint, slick noises.

This time, he was the one who signaled for silence. Gred stopped and listened for a while, his eyes widening.

As they listened closely, the sound of a bone snapping interrupted the soft rustling.

They could now be almost certain that a carnivore was feeding.

Jess shifted his hand higher on the axe handle to make sure his grip was secure. Gred drew an arrow and nocked it.

They looked at each other, nodded, and slowly slipped through the door.

At first, they could see nothing in the pitch-black mill. As their eyes adjusted, Jess glimpsed something enormous and silver-gray shifting beyond the abandoned tools, collapsed partition, and layers of cobwebs.

He glanced at Gred. The dwarf's eyes were even wider than his.

Gred raised the bow and aimed at the giant beast, drawing the string fully taut. It creaked, and the beast suddenly stopped moving.

The instant it turned, Gred either shot decisively or released the string in fright. The arrow hissed through the cobwebs and a gap in the partition, burying itself in the beast's neck. A furious roar exploded through the cramped mill, making Jess's ears ache.

The beast sprang out, smashing through the wall and a heap of broken farm tools. Even in the faint light entering from outside, every hair on its body gleamed with a terrifying silver sheen.

Jess brushed dust and wood chips from himself and pressed against the wall, gripping his axe as he stared at the monster. This was not a worgen but a giant wolf, nearly as tall as his shoulders. It could not be compared with the wild-dog-like forest wolves of the north.

The wolf's charge separated them. Gred scrambled to his feet, raised his sword, and drove it into the beast's flank with one lunging step, so deeply that his arm disappeared into the fur.

But although the wound drove the wolf mad with pain, it did not weaken. It twisted, swatted Gred to the ground, and prepared to pounce on him.

Jess had heard that a dog's waist was its narrowest and weakest point, and wolves should not be much different. He raised the axe and chopped into the wolf's lower back. The beast had been lowering its head to bite the dwarf pinned beneath it. The blow made it howl, and its entire hindquarters began convulsing beyond its control.

Gred screamed as he crawled out from under the wolf. The monstrous beast continued twitching and howling but could no longer counterattack. Neither man dared approach casually, so they could only wait for its strength to drain away.

After a long time, the giant wolf finally stopped moving. Its blood had soaked the entire floor of the mill.

Once everything fell silent, Gred muttered, "If that elf hadn't cut my leg, I'd have killed this wolf long ago! It never would've pinned me!"

Jess looked at him. Gred was covered in blood, his entire body stained red.

"Are you hurt?"

"Am I? What?" Gred looked down, shuddered at the blood covering him, and felt around frantically. "No. No, it isn't mine."