Hoffnungslose Ziele: A Dark Journey of Lost Causes

By Kevin Reinholz

Hoffnungslose Ziele: A Dark Journey of Lost Causes is a dark fantasy novel taking place in Central Europe in the 1860s. It is a world where witches, werewolves, and vampires are real. Best friends Anna and Christine live in a rural farming town in Eastern Prussia, along with Christine's fiancée, Karl, and his best friend Gustav. The two men are about to enter conscripted military service in the Prussian Army at a time when tensions are high between the Prussians and the Austrians, as both vie for control of German-speaking Europe. Anna is a devout Catholic, while Christine is allegedly related to a witch--hardly an endearing rumor in a small, religious farming town. In spite of this, the two teenagers share a deep friendship and loyalty to each other.

The story begins with Anna and Christine dabbling in witchcraft for the protection of Karl during his military service in the Prussian Army. While Anna's Catholic faith is being tested by her dabblings in the occult, however, a more sinister trial awaits: a 300 year old vampire takes an unhealthy interest in her. As her friends try desperately to save her, they meet various friends and foes along the way–including a mysterious demigoddess from the pagan world whose intentions are anything but clear.

Hoffnungslose Ziele is quintessentially a story about coming of age, as the young friends confront the painful realities of innocence lost, finding love only to lose it, responding to trauma, and finding one's way in an often harsh and unforgiving world. The four unlikely heroes from rural Prussia find themselves thrust into the adventure of a lifetime: a dark and at times hopeless journey in which more than one "lost cause" must be taken up, or that which each holds most dear abandoned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543908299

Book preview

14 May 1865 (Sunday), Diary of Anna Maria Veller.

At Weizen, Prussia:

This is my first entry in this diary—a new journal to record new and extraordinary happenings!

Well today has certainly been an eventful day! As promised, I visited my friend, Christine Gauger, at her family’s farm on the East side of Weizen. Christine is more than just a friend—she is my closest friend, and has been since childhood—she is like a sister to me. Christine is an only child—something nearly unheard of, and considered a source of great misfortune to her parents—and at the age of 17, lives alone with her mother and father.

Christine is head-over-heels in love with a young man by the name of Karl Rhode. I’ve never met him, but Christine has told me so much about him that I feel like I know him well. He’s tall, handsome, smart, and has a dark sense of humor. Christine is completely taken with him. Truth be told, he has asked her to marry him!—but their engagement is to be a long one, for Herr Rhode—Karl—has yet to go off for his obligatory 3 years of service in the Royal Prussian Army. Would that he had already come back from serving the kingdom so they could be married at once! Christine’s parents are thrilled that she could attract such a responsible, respectable young man. Rumors about her family, not to mention their small means and misfortune at having only a single child, left her parents more than a little worried about finding a suitable husband for their only daughter.

I arrived at Christine’s farm shortly after lunch. My chores today were light, as it is the Sabbath. Of course I dutifully attended Mass with my parents and five brothers (who still live at home—my six older siblings have all married and started homes of their own) this morning. Christine’s family, like most of the families in our village, is ostensibly Catholic, but they are not so devout as many other families, and the family has been dogged for years by rumors of one or more witches sprouting from their family tree. In particular, Christine’s Great Aunt Katharina is rumored to be a witch. She lives outside of town, some miles away in the middle of the forest, an elderly woman who has never married. Thankfully it has been half a century since the last witch execution in these parts, and the witchcraft hysteria of 200 years ago has for the most part died down. Nevertheless, the rumors regarding Christine’s family tree have done nothing for her family’s prospects in this small, conservative farming town, and truth be told my parents discouraged our friendship from a young age.

Christine ran out to meet me when I was still a little ways up the dirt path that led to her farm, greeted me with a warm embrace, then ushered me not to the farmhouse, but to one of several sheds near the main barn.

Oh, Anna, it’s wonderful to see you! Christine beamed. I was so anxious for your arrival I couldn’t think about anything else.

It was obviously that Christine had something important on her mind, and I surmised that it was some kind of secret she felt comfortable sharing only with me, and that it likely involved Karl. What is it, dear friend? I playfully chided her.

Anna, you know how I feel about Karl, she began conspiratorially. And how he’s asked me to wait for him and be his wife after he returns from the Royal Army.

Yes, I know all about it, I smiled, sharing in my friend’s happiness.

Well, Christine lowered her voice, it’s just that I’m terribly worried about him. It’s not like we’re still fighting a monster like Napoleon, but the Kingdom has been aggressively expanding, and I fear my Karl will have to take part in his share of battles before his military service is over.

I nodded consolingly, sharing my friend’s opinion that Karl’s military service would likely see him in combat. My older brothers’ conscriptions were not without their share of trauma.

I went to see my great aunt, Christine said, lowering her voice even further. She was barely speaking above a whisper now. I asked for something to help protect him until he returns to me.

Christine... I scolded. I do not consider myself to be particularly prudish, but I am a devout Christian woman and everyone knows that witchcraft, real or imagined, is an abomination and that a witch’s power comes from the Devil.

It’s not like that, Christine protested. That is...she’s a good, kind person who does not hurt others. And in spite of what you might think, I don’t believe she’s in league with any...dark forces.

After I stood silently for a few moments, Christine pressed on. "It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but my great aunt did give me this." My friend pulled out a strange, obviously very aged belt from the folds of her farm dress. The belt appeared to be made from the hide of an animal, and was thicker than is fashionable with the belts of this day. Moreover, the hide was not tanned, and there was still gray fur forming a sort of stripe along its center. There was an ornate bronze buckle and clasp, shaped like the head of a wolf.

I crossed myself instinctively, not knowing what the strange belt was but wanting nothing to do with anything that came from a putative witch!

Anna, you are my closest friend and the only one I really trust. Besides Karl, of course, she added quickly. I know you may not approve, but will you at least promise to share this secret with me, and keep it between us?

Of course you know I will, I replied quickly. You are my sister, in every way that counts. I will not ‘out’ you, but for your own sake I hope you will be careful!

Christine smiled a big sigh of relief. I have a favor to ask of you, she asked nervously. You must give me your word that you will do exactly as I say, no questions asked.

I looked at my friend a little doubtfully, fearing that she would either confess to participation in some sort of occult activity herself, or worse, ask me to join in the same.

So long as it be not an affront to my faith or to my honor...I promise, I agreed hesitantly.

Good enough, Christine nodded. Now, whatever happens, you must remain calm, and you must not attempt to leave this shed.

OK, I agreed hesitantly. Truth be told, my curiosity was beginning to get the better of my misgivings.

Remove your clothes.

What? I exclaimed, blushing.

Anna Veller, remove your clothes. All of them.

I protested, but Christine gave me a look that said she was not going to give up until I acquiesced to her bizarre request. Now, as lifetime friends we had dressed and undressed in front of each other numerous times, but this felt different. The place, to be sure, was strange, and somewhat scandalous, and the fear of discovery caused me to hesitate more than embarrassment at my best friend seeing me in my undergarments.

You gave me your word. I promise that no one will see you. This place is private, Christine further urged.

Letting out a loud, exaggerated sigh to let her know just how displeased I was with her ‘favor,’ I silently undressed down to my slip.

I need you to take that off, too, Christine chided.

At this point I thought about throwing a minor tantrum, but instead, rather angrily, I pulled my slip over my head and dropped it to the ground on top of the pile where my dress, shoes and socks were. There I stood, in the middle of a farm shed, facing my best friend wearing nothing but my skin. It was highly indecent!

Now, hold still, Christine said sweetly, holding that cursed belt with the wolf’s head buckle!

Oh, no, I protested, backing away a few steps. Christine actually glanced sideways at the shed door, a small smirk on her face. It was as though she was daring me to run outside naked if I didn’t want to let her have her way!

It won’t hurt, and it won’t damage your faith or your honor, Christine insisted.

Naked and cornered, I stood still for Christine, scowling disapprovingly as she reached around my waist and wrapped that infernal...thing...around my skin.

A strange thing happened when she clasped the belt buckle tight. A wave of vertigo struck me, and I fell to my hands and knees. The room continued spinning for a few moments, then I looked up at Christine, whose eyes were wide with wonder. I looked around the room. I expected to feel pain from scraping my knees, but felt nothing but the pads of my hands and feet on the wooden floor of the shed. Then I looked down at my hands...and realized they were no longer hands at all!

It is difficult to describe what I felt when I looked down and saw two great, fur-covered paws where my hands should be. Amidst a swirling, confused mass of various thoughts and sensations, I panicked.

Christine! I wailed. Only no words came out of my mouth, but a yelp, like the sound a large dog would make.

Oh, Anna, my friend marveled, her hands up near her mouth, you look...amazing.

No, calm down. You can still understand me, right? She said you’d retain your human mind after the...change.

I stood up on all fours, my tail rigid yet wagging furiously. Was I some kind of dog? What was going on!?

"You can understand me, right?" Christine asked a little nervously.

For answer, I snorted and tried my best to nod my head affirmatively. For the first time I became cognizant that my senses had been altered. I could hear Christine’s mother rattling dishes in the farmhouse. I could hear animals feeding in the barn, her father cursing as he attempted to reshoe a horse and almost got kicked. Smells were absolutely overpowering. Christine, who had never had much of a ‘scent’ as far as I was aware, had a very distinctive ‘Christine smell’ to her.

I promise I’ll change you back, but first, look, Christine said, producing a small vanity mirror and squatting down to my eye level.

Staring back at me in the mirror was a great gray wolf!

Knowing that I had been changed, and seeing myself in such a state, were two very different things, and I confess that I again panicked. I started barking and yelping, and bounding around the shed.

Shh, someone will hear you! Christine scolded. When even this failed to calm me down, she cleared her throat and enunciated very clearly, Anna Veller!

I took a few more leaps around the shed on all fours, until I realized that I was me again—that is to say, a naked human girl clamoring around on her hands and knees.

I crumpled to the ground and began sobbing with shock and relief. Christine was at once crouched at my side, hugging and comforting me as she apologized profusely for scaring me.

At this point I heard Christine’s father’s voice at the shed door, asking if everything was all right. I panicked anew as I realized I was still naked, but Christine, shielding me with her own body, called out we’re fine! Just talking girl talk!

Her father grumbled, but thankfully walked away from the shed and back to the barn. Christine wiped tears from my cheeks as I stood up—on two legs this time—and gathered my clothes from the heap where I had discarded them.

Once I was again decent, albeit a little disheveled, Christine explained how the wolf belt worked. "According to my great aunt, you have to be wearing nothing but your skin when you put the belt on. It’ll change you into a wolf, but you retain your human mind. You did retain your reason when you were...changed...didn’t you?"

I nodded silently, still dabbing tears from my eyes and sniffling a little.

I really am sorry, Christine said for the hundredth time. It’s just that according to her, there are only two ways to change back: concentrate the right way about returning to your human form, or someone addressing you by your full name. I was worried that if I tested it on myself, you’d get so freaked out that you’d forget to call my name, and then I’d be stuck that way for the rest of my life!

I probably would’ve run away, I admitted, smiling ever so slightly. "But if you ever play a trick on me like that again, so help me..."

Next it’ll be my turn, Christine said not without a hint of excitement in her voice. I won’t ask you to wear this again.

Fine, I replied curtly. "Let’s see you take off your clothes."

Not right now, Christine shook her head. "That is, I’m really eager to try it, but now that we know it works, I want to see what I can do...in that form."

I frowned, wondering what mischief my friend was contemplating.

If I’m going to give it to Karl to keep him safe, I need to know that it’ll actually be useful, Christine argued. I can’t learn much confined to a small shed. Come back tonight...ask your mother if you can spend the night with me. Then, when we’re sure my parents are asleep, we’ll sneak out to the woods and...

I agreed to her plan, if for no other reason than a desire to get back at my friend for the trick she played on me. Maybe I’ll take my time addressing her by her human name, or maybe I’ll hide her clothes and make her walk across her farm naked and ashamed of potential discovery.

By the way, although this is already apparent if you’re reading this, due to the sensitive nature of this diary, I’ve written it using a cipher Christine and I use for writing secret messages to each other. I can’t imagine showing this to anyone else, after all. My older brother, August, taught me the cipher. He learned about ciphers during his compulsory Army service and knew of my love for puzzles and devised our own Veller Family Cipher with me, although he and I were the only ones in our family to use it with each other. He’s long since married and moved away, lured by promises of land and riches in the New World. I miss him very much. Nobody understood me like August did. Well, except for Christine of course.

21 May 1865 (Sunday), Diary of Anna Maria Veller.

At Weizen, Prussia:

What a stressful and terrifying week! O that we had been more careful with that accursed object of witchcraft!

I arrived at Christine’s farm in time for dinner (getting a free meal for me was one of the primary reasons my parents’ allowed me to skip out on Monday morning’s chores), which was a lot quieter than dinners at my house given that Christine is an only child whereas the Veller Family is much larger and dinner conversations far more lively.

After dinner, Christine and I took a bath together, then took turns brushing each other’s hair—she brushing my long, straight, chocolate brown hair with ease, while I took greater pains with her mat of dirty blonde hair. Before bed, Christine had to massage her father’s aching shoulders, back, and arthritic hands—the poor man looks every day of his 41 years and then some.

Later, lest her parents suspect we were up to any kind of mischief, the two of us discussed her hopes and aspirations for married life with the handsome Karl Rhode. Her mother looked in on us before settling down for the night herself, sharing briefly her opinion of how blessed and fortunate their heretofore unlucky family was at the prospect of their daughter marrying ‘up’ to such a fine young man. She also mentioned that Herr Rhode had asked Christine’s father for permission to call on her the next day after his farm chores were done, which Herr Gauger was only too happy to agree to.

While we waited for her parents to fall asleep, I asked Christine about the odd choice of ‘gift’ for her fiancée. Aside from using the wolf belt to steal a neighbor’s livestock, or to escape from somewhere in a hurry, I could think of little practical use for it.

I thought the same thing, Christine wrinkled her nose in remembered disappointment. But my great aunt was very insistent that it was meant for my Karl. I’m sure you won’t approve, but I provided her with one of Karl’s hats, and she claimed that, using some of his hairs she recovered from the inside, she consulted the spirits and was told the wolf belt was the gift for him.

I frowned, letting my best friend know what I thought about ‘consulting spirits’ and magical gifts. Still, my own experience with the belt, however brief, had been quite remarkable, and if I was truly honest with myself, I longed for another opportunity to try it on and transform into something other than myself.

There’s something else, Christine added in a low whisper. My great aunt claimed that Karl is descended from werewolves, but the bloodline has grown so thin in him that it’s unlikely he’d ever be able to transform on his own. Still...she felt very strongly that given his alleged heritage, the wolf belt should go to Karl.

I didn’t know what to say to this supposed relevation about Karl having werewolf ancestry (does such a thing even exist? Did it mean one of his ancestors was a monster?), so I sat in silence while we waited a good while longer until we were certain neither of her parents were stirring. Then, we crept out of Christine’s room and down the hallway past her parents’ room in our nightclothes. We both held our breaths as Christine guided me around the creaky spots in the floorboards, then we each wrapped ourselves in coats lest we catch a chill, then crept outside.

It was maybe an hour before midnight, and a half moon provided decent illumination, but it still felt dangerous and a little exhilarating to be outside at this time and under these circumstances. We made our way cautiously across the Gauger Farm and into the woods behind it. The woods were very dark, so we lingered just inside the cover of the trees.

Are you sure you want to do this? I asked Christine a little nervously, my desire to get back at her dwindling as a feeling of foreboding urged me to return to the safety of the farmhouse and comfort of a bed.

Look, Christine said, pointing to a narrow, overgrown path through the trees. This trail leads to my Great Aunt Katharina’s, she explained. "That great aunt, she added conspiratorially. She lives alone in the middle of the forest, but my mother occasionally brings her milk and eggs—whatever we can spare, really—from the farm. She thinks my father doesn’t notice, but he does. It’s not that he approves, necessarily, but he loves my mother so that he pretends he doesn’t notice. I’ve only been there two or three times—my parents forbid me to see her—but if you follow this trail it’s not too hard to find her cottage. It took me about three hours to walk there, when I received this," Christine added, producing the wolf belt from her coat.

If it takes so long to get there, how did you go without your parents noticing? I asked.

I always visited around this time, in the middle of the night, Christine admitted.

Weren’t you scared?

The first time, a little, Christine admitted. But I’ve roamed these woods since I was old enough to walk, and I know this country well. Great Aunt Katharina lives next to a stream. Actually, it’s rather peculiar, but a long time ago someone dug an artificial channel so that the stream splits just before her cottage, and surrounds it on both sides before the channel reconnects with the natural stream. It places her cottage on a sort of island in the middle of the stream.

That’s odd, I agreed, thinking about the danger heavy rains and flash flooding presented.

Then, growing impatient with Christine’s obvious stalling, I said curtly, Christine, hand me that infernal thing.

Christine dutifully passed the wolf belt to me, then looked around the forest a little shyly.

This is not the time to become modest! I scolded. Off with your clothes!

Christine undressed quickly and in silence, feigning modesty but obviously filled with excitement and nervous anticipation at what was about to happen. When she was completely undressed, she traded me her bundle of clothes for the wolf belt.

This way you don’t have to participate in any ‘occult’ magic, Christine stuck her tongue out at me.

I knew she was right, but couldn’t help but feel cheated that I didn’t get to be the one to transform her the way she had played her little trick on me. Still, we were out in the forest, and I was holding all of her clothes. I could still have some fun with her if I chose to.

Christine shared a long, meaningful look with me, then, taking a deep breath, fastened the wolf belt around her waist.

I recognized the vertigo I had felt in Christine’s face, but what happened next was quite remarkable. As she fell to her hands and knees, her face contorted as her nose and mouth extended into a snout, and light gray and white fur began sprouting all over her body. The entire transformation took only seconds, and then all I saw was a rather bewildered looking gray wolf staring up at me with haunting yellow eyes.

It worked, I smiled weakly, trying to reassure my friend whilst remembering the shock and panic I had felt after my own transformation.

She didn’t yelp, bark, or begin running around wildly as I had. She sat down on her haunches and looked at me for a long while, then stood up on all fours and took a few hesitant steps deeper into the forest.

Don’t you go too far, I warned. "You may have good night vision in that body, but I don’t. You get lost, or get me lost, and you might be wearing that skin forever. Maybe you can find a nice wolf husband and rear a litter of pups together!" I added with a nervous laugh.

Christine the Wolf looked back at me, snorted, then dashed off into the forest.

Don’t panic, I whispered to myself. She’s just trying it out, seeing what she can do. She’ll be back soon. If I get too cold...or scared...I can just return to the farmhouse. She’ll eventually get hungry and return. Then I’ll make her beg me to turn her back!

I stood there, shivering slightly, for close to an hour, perhaps. I was getting cold, and nervous, and more than a little tired. I also became aware of a growing, dreadful feeling that I was not alone, that something was watching me. I wanted to go inside and back to bed. Where was that misbehaving wolf!?

I took a few hesitant steps down the path that led to Christine’s great aunt the witch, mostly to keep myself warm, and strained in the darkness to catch sight of Christine. I saw something rustle in the underbrush, and stepped off the path toward it. Whatever it was ran away when I got close—probably some kind of rodent—it couldn’t be too large by the sound of it, certainly not a wolf.

I turned around and tried to make my way back to the path, but the darkness was almost complete now and I must’ve wandered farther off the path in pursuit of the night noise than I had thought. I began to panic, then reminded myself that Christine’s farm was not far away, and if I simply regained my sense of direction I could make my way out of the forest and back into the open of the farm. It would serve Christine right to make her come out of the forest and run naked across her farm in human form anyway.

I headed in the direction I thought would take me out of the midnight forest, but something was wrong. I walked for probably half an hour—it felt like an eternity—but I seemed to have gone deeper into the forest rather than toward its edge.

Not knowing what to do, I sat down and cried. Yes, I cried. Sixteen years old and sniffling like a baby.

After an indeterminable amount of time, I felt, rather than saw, a presence nearby. My first thought was that Christine had finally tired of her fun and returned to apologize to me, but something didn’t feel right. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up, and a sudden fear gripped me.

This is no place for a child like yourself to be, a deep, gravelly man’s voice addressed me.

The voice was close by, but I couldn’t see anyone. I immediately sprang to my feet, holding the bundle of Christine’s clothes in front of me like a shield.

What is your name? the voice asked again, still very near, but in a completely different direction.

This isn’t right, my reason told me. I should’ve heard him move.

A sudden chill fog crept in around my ankles, then...something...materialized into the shape of a man. He stood right in front of me, and whether by some trick of the extremely dim lighting, my imagination, or something else, his eyes appeared to glow red.

Won’t you converse with me? the man-thing said in that horrible gravelly voice again, sending a chill down my spine. At least tell me your name, child.

I had the presence of mind to cross myself, which brought about a strange change: the man’s entire face contorted with rage, revulsion, and...fear?...then he seemed to regain his composure as he sneered at me derisively.

I tried to back away, but my legs wouldn’t obey. I was glued in place, mesmerized as though under some kind of spell, and all I could do was shake with terror and revulsion as the thing glided or floated behind me and grasped both of my arms in an iron grip that I was sure could pull my arms off had the thing wanted to.

I instantly dropped Christine’s clothes, then tried to fight the overwhelming urge to look back over my shoulder at my assailant. Foul, icy breath struck my face, then I felt a sharp pain in my neck and knew no more.

When I came to—for I had feinted—I was crumpled with my back against the trunk of a tree, and the world was spinning around me. I felt very lightheaded, and knew I had not the strength to stand up.

A gray wolf was standing in front of me, protectively, snarling at some unseen foe. Something...moved in the shadows, then the wolf leapt at its enemy, bark-growling furiously and snapping as its jaws attempted to bite into the something.

My eyes grew dark again, and as my vision faded first into a narrow tunnel, then went completely black, I thought I heard yelping as if the wolf was in pain.

***

When I came to again, it was late morning, and light was streaming down on me from a break in the overhead foliage. My entire body felt heavy, immobile...then I realized there was a wolf lying protectively across my lap.

It took an eternity for me to gather the strength and will to keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds, then move my head to scan my surroundings for signs of help—or danger. Even the smallest movement sent waves of dizziness and nausea through my body, but after a time I was able to sit up somewhat and ascertain that I was in no immediate danger.

Christine, on the other hand—poor Christine! The wolf was breathing in labored, shallow gasps, and bleeding from multiple wounds across her body. I was scared to move her, and at any rate lacked the strength to do so, so after some hesitating, whispered to her, Christine! Christine Gauger!

Seconds later, a naked, pale, and obviously very battered Christine was lying across my lap.

Christine! I tried to wake her, but my friend fared no better in her human form. Her body was covered in multiple scrapes, bruises, and slash marks as if from the claw of a wild beast. Her breathing was so quiet and labored I feared she would die right then and there.

Help, I moaned, quietly at first, but gradually gaining more power. Help!

We must’ve been further from the Gauger Farm than we ever intended to wander last night, because nobody heard my cries. After more time and considerable effort, I managed to crawl out from underneath Christine’s battered mass. Standing hit me with additional waves of nausea and lightheaded-ness, but I knew I was my poor friend’s only hope at this point.

I’ll just have to carry her back to the farm, I reasoned out loud. As soon as I figure out which way it is. I relaxed my grip on the tree trunk that I had used to steady myself as I stood up, and tried taking a tentative step. I stumbled, still too weak and dizzy to manage. How was I going to carry Christine home if I couldn’t even walk unassisted?

I looked down at my poor friend. Her color was awful and her breathing was so shallow I could barely see her chest move. Worrying about her catching cold, and sweating a little myself due to the mid-morning warmth, I took off my coat and did my best to cover Christine with it. When I gingerly lifted her to slip the coat underneath her, she winced ever so slightly and let out a faint groan. She probably had broken ribs or other internal injuries.

I managed to cover her up after a fashion, and managed to take a handful of steps, circling around my friend and scanning the forest for signs of a path or a clearing. I could see nothing. Then, a strange thought occurred to me: I might not be able to see which way we came, but a wolf could probably smell our trail.

I was very loathe to put on that object of sorcery again. The first time had been a trick, and I partially absolved myself of responsibility for participating in that blasphemy. Willingly using it to transform...it was a definite affront to my Christian faith, but if I didn’t, what would become of Christine? For that matter, if I put the belt on, who would break the spell and return me to my human form if Christine didn’t...? Would it not be folly to transform myself, possibly for good?

On the other hand...Christine was in dire straits, and I feared she wouldn’t live through the day if I didn’t get her immediate medical attention. Even if the doctor could come out to the house, I wasn’t sure what he could do for her...her wounds appeared grievous and that was only what was visible on the outside of her. I was terrified that she was laboring under some internal injuries that had already sealed her fate.

Knowing I could do nothing in my present state, and resolving to do everything in my power to help my dear friend, I hastily stripped off my night clothes, unfastened the wolf belt from Christine’s waist, and prepared to fasten it around my own. Then it hit me: how would I get Christine to help even if I knew where help was? I couldn’t expect her parents to take kindly to a wolf strutting out of the forest and onto their farm, much less expect them to follow one into the forest. That meant I had to transport Christine to help...but how would I do that without hands?

I settled on an awkward solution: I crouched down next to Christine, wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and half rolled, half pulled her onto my back while I panted from the effort on my hands and knees. Then, being careful not to tip her limp body off of my own, I fastened the wolf belt around my waist.

After a short bout of vertigo, I immediately felt stronger and more capable of moving. My lightheaded-ness seemed to have gone away along with my human frailty. I felt the mass of Christine’s form balanced across my back, her arms hanging down to either side of me and unfortunately brushing the ground. It couldn’t be helped.

With my enhanced hearing, Christine’s breath sounded even more awful, and my worry for her increased. Saying a silent prayer to our Heavenly Father, in spite of my willing participation in sorcery, I remembered the task at hand and began sniffing around for signs of a trail. To my surprise, I immediately picked up the scent of another wolf...but one that smelled somehow familiar...Christine!

Walking carefully lest I dump her onto the forest floor with no way of picking her back up, I followed Christine’s meandering wolf trail until—God be praised!—it led me right to the forest path I had foolishly wandered off of the night before!

As I studied the human-created path through the forest, I was struck by a new dilemma: should I carry Christine to her parents, or was it not possible that her great aunt would be of better help in this dire situation? After all, not all legends speak of witches as bringers of famine and misfortune. Others speak of wise old women healers. No, I argued with myself. Further embracing the use of magic, which comes from the Devil, is not the way to save Christine. Yet, what would Christine’s parents think if they saw her like this, and what could they do for her? If she died, I’d be stuck as a wolf for the rest of my life. What would my own parents think if I disappeared in this way? How would I live?

Asking Almighty God to forgive me, I followed the path deeper into the forest, toward Christine’s witch aunt’s house.

The going was difficult, in large part due to the need to walk slowly and carefully so as not to drop my precious rider. However, by late afternoon I came to a stream which flowed alongside the left of the path. This soon split, and I saw a small, wooden bridge barely three feet long spanning a narrow, man made channel that branched off from the main stream. On the other side of the bridge, surrounded on both sides by running water, was a small, dilapidated cottage.

I crossed the bridge, thinking to myself that were it not for my passenger, I could have easily leapt across the narrow channel, and wondering what protection this was supposed to provide against unwanted intruders. Still, it was apparent that the bridge could be folded up from the ‘island’ side where the cottage was situated. It was clearly intended as a defense of some kind.

Standing in front of the cottage, I was unsure of my next move. I tried barking softly, then louder, but no one seemed to notice. I could hear the sound of someone moving inside of the cottage, so I knew if I was insistent enough I’d be heard. The trick was to not frighten the inhabitant due to my form.

Eventually, frustration and the need to bring this to a resolution overcame my misgivings. I let out a piercing, heart-wrenching howl that I knew could be heard for miles around.

Expecting to hear the cottage’s inhabitant stiffen with fear, I was surprised when the latch was almost immediately unfastened and the front door swung open. I was looking up at a wizened old woman with wavy, tangled white hair. She bore a noticeable resemblance to Christine.

Oh my, what have we here? she intoned, looking into my eyes for a moment as though in recognition. Suddenly, she became aware of the identity of my load, and began moaning sadly. Christine! Oh my dear Christine! What treachery...?

Tears in her eyes, she quickly dashed inside of her cottage. Well don’t just stand out there, bring her in! the old woman commanded.

I obeyed, carrying Christine over the threshold of the cottage door. Inside, the cottage was in slightly better shape than its exterior. The cottage was small, and obviously very old, but many old books, scrolls, and the largest collection of herbs I had ever seen lined its honestly rather charming walls.

Bring her here, the old woman ordered, leading me over to a small bed. She rolled Christine carefully off my back and into the bed. What could have done this...? she wondered out loud. From her sharp intake of breath and racing heartbeat, I could tell she was extremely anxious about Christine’s fate. Had I made a mistake in bringing her here?

As though sensing my doubt, the old woman took her eyes off her grand niece long enough to look into mine and address me. You were right to bring her here. There is nothing a German man of medicine could have done for her. No, only the Old Ways might save her. But she is in a dire state indeed...

The old woman stood over Christine and, closing her eyes, ran her hands over Christine’s body. She never actually touched her grand niece, but she was obviously concentrating very hard on whatever she was doing.

I see, she mumbled. He might be able to stabilize her for now, but I’m going to need more help...

The old woman began chanting in a language I could not understand, and after a time appeared to go into a trance. To my surprise, the inside of that small cottage grew dim all of a sudden, and though I neither saw, heard, nor smelled anything, I felt that a new presence was near.

I backed away to a far corner of the room and laid down forlornly.

I don’t ask for your approval, the old woman chided me. But long before Christian Crusaders raped, murdered, and pillaged these lands, Our People communed with the spirits and kept peacefully to the Old Ways.

The old woman placed her hands above Christine again, and resumed her chant. The presence seemed to grow stronger and envelope Christine’s deathly pale form. They continued their unholy work for the remainder of the afternoon and late into twilight without stopping to rest. Finally, the old woman collapsed into a chair, looked at Christine with a mixture of sadness and relief, then turned to me.

She will not die, at least not this night, the old woman announced. "We have done what we can. He has done what he could. My familiar spirit, that is, she explained. I know you don’t want to hear these things, but you came to me, you who my Christine obviously trusted enough to share our secret with. Who’s to say the Old Blood doesn’t run strong in you as well?"

The woman studied Christine again. No longer sensing the presence, I got up and walked over to the bed to check on my friend. She was still very pale, but her breathing sounded less labored, and her face had taken on a slightly healthier air to it. My entire body ached from the effort of the day, and I badly needed to relieve myself. I was also famished, although I had not noticed any of these physical complaints until I felt reassured that Christine was not going to die on me.

You did well to carry her this far, the old woman told me. Come, you have needs. And I must raise the gate.

Together we stepped outside into the night air, and the old woman turned a small wheel that retracted the small bridge. Evil spirits—and other things—cannot cross running water, she explained to me. "It is not against the things of this Visible World that this protects us. Hurry, make your toilet as is the way with your kind—your present skin, that is—and drink from the stream. I’ll find you some cured meat, unless you’d prefer to hunt for your own dinner?"

My immediate physical needs attended to, I greedily devoured a dried cut of pork at the floor of the old woman’s table while she consumed a far more meager meal.

If I knew your name, I’d release you from the spell, she said to me sympathetically. There is much I would like to ask you about—how my Christine received those injuries, for one. But alas, I do not know your name, so I’m afraid you’ll have to wear that skin until she either wakes up, or you figure out how to regain your humanity. That’s right, you have the power to break the spell yourself, although for most it takes training you don’t have. Any self-respecting witch could pull off the feat, she added with a twinkle in her eye.

You’re not a very good conversationalist in that form, she chided me rather playfully after another bout of silence. Perhaps tomorrow night, we’ll try some more powerful healing magic. The problem is I’ll need more than my familiar spirit to accomplish it, and calling multiple spirits can be...precarious. They’ll need sacrifices. She may yet recover if we do nothing more for her, but if we leave things as they are I fear she’ll never wake, or live as a cripple, or otherwise break her mother’s heart. No, we’ll have to try a more powerful spell. But not tonight. We all need our rest.

The next morning, I checked on Christine again before attending to my physical needs. Her condition had not worsened, but neither had it improved. I began to despair for her ever recovering...or my ever becoming human again.

Go, explore the forest during the daylight, the old woman ordered me. Wolves are not meant to be cooped up indoors, and I’m not used to company, especially the way you look at me so disapprovingly with those big sad eyes of yours. Go, run free, hunt, and experience the fullness of life in your shape. You may remain that way for a long time if this doesn’t go well. Only...return to me before nightfall, for on the cottage grounds, surrounded by running water, you will be safe. Besides, I might need you.

I reluctantly obliged, but after stalking the woods without carrying a burden, drinking from the fresh stream, and—I’m a little embarrassed to add—devouring a couple of rabbits that I chased down myself, I felt my strength and spirits lifted. I had no real fear of getting lost, for I could clearly smell my own trail, as well as the human smells that came from the cottage. Still, I did not stray too far, and made a point of returning when the sun was still visible, albeit low in the sky.

Your day in the wild seems to have done you good! the old woman mocked me. There was something in her manner which reminded me of Christine. No wonder the old woman treated her so dearly—Christine was practically her younger doppelganger.

The old woman went out to raise the bridge when twilight was still young, and I followed her outside so I could attend to my toilet. I heard the footsteps of two human men crashing through the forest, and heard them laughing and conversing nervously to each other. The old woman hesitated with the bridge, sharply drawing in her breath as she became aware of their presence considerably later than I did.

Fräulein Katharina? one of the young men called out uncertainly. So the old woman’s unmarried status was indeed well known among the villagers.

Good evening, strangers, the old woman greeted the two young men cautiously. I smelled nervousness emanating from her, as though the remembered fear of previous run-ins with humans disapproving of her witchcraft made her defensive.

For their part, the two young men smelled not of anger or ill intent, but of apprehension and concern. Realizing that the presence of a large wolf might escalate the situation, I sat down placidly at the old woman’s side and tried to appear as docile as I could. I’m just a big, friendly dog, I tried to mentally communicate to them.

My name is Karl Rhode, the first of the two young men introduced himself. Karl! Christine’s fiancée! And this is my friend, Gustav Strehl.

The old woman nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything to them. However, she did notice my tail wagging excitedly and seemed to relax a little.

We—I—that is, a young woman by the name of Christine Gauger is quite dear to me—we are to be married in fact—and she’s been missing since the night before last. I heard that she might have come here.

"Young man, you should be more cautious in announcing your full name. There is great power...in one’s true name...and by surrendering