BRENDON AND THE WOLVES

Story by Allen Morgan \ Art by Christina Farmilo

(text and illustration copyrighted by author and illustrator)
(page 4 of 5)

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Brendon went off through the wind-blown trees following the strange lonely call. Finally he came to a small, secret clearing entirely open to grass and sky. He stopped and stared. A number of low, grey shadowy shapes were waiting there just a few steps away.

Wolves! Completely silent and perfectly still, they stood like a circle of ancient stones.

An eerie glow was beginning to show through the fast-moving clouds overhead. The moon that emerged was wondrously strange, a changeling moon that filled the night with soft, silver rays of magical light which fell like invisible rain.

The circle of wolves began to howl. Brendon felt like howling too. The hair on the nape of his neck seemed to rise, his teeth ached and itched like they didn't quite fit and his skin was beginning to tingle a bit.

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