Page 463 of His Hungry Wolf

For two hours, Lou’s father sat lost in whatever book he was reading. As he did, I considered every explanation I could think of for what I saw. When I was sure I had my answer, I turned my attention to the book I had reached for. Now that it was on my mind, the children’s book was all I could see.

During every moment that passed, I expected Lou’s father to see it too. How could he not retrieve that one next? I was sure the secret to everything was in it. And as I thought about it, my stomach growled.

‘Shit!’ I thought bracing myself for the man’s reaction. He didn’t budge. Could he hear it? How loud had it been?

Sure, it had been a long time since breakfast, but it couldn’t have been that long. Of all times, why now? When would my stomach growl again?

I didn’t have to wait long. With a tightening of my gut, my intestines rumbled echoing the sound of my doom. He didn’t have to be a wolf to hear that one. Snapped from his reading, he looked up. If he turned, he would see me. Trapped, there would be nothing I could do. And with uncontrolled magic, there was no telling what he would do.

About to turn my way, he quickly spun back to the window. I heard it too. It was a car pulling into the driveway. That prompted him to get up and return the book to the shelf. Without a word, he walked to the door and left.

I fell onto the wall of my tomb and closed my eyes. My heart beat louder than my growling stomach could ever be. I had made it. I was free.

Pulling out from between the shelves, I crossed the room and retrieved the book that had haunted me. Exhausted by standing as long as I did, I fell into the desk chair. It was warm. I didn’t care.

Opening the book, I found an inscription. As I read it, the door flung open behind me.

“Titus, what are you doing in here? Anyone could come in and see you,” Lou said entering and locking the door behind him.

“How long has this been here?”

“How long has what been here?” he said coming over.

“This,” I said showing him.

He took the book and examined the inside front cover.

“To the new park preserve, dig deep in the bramble. Always be prepared. Agatha Armoury.”

Lou continued staring at the text.

“Is that your grandmother’s handwriting?”

“I think so,” he said unsure.

“What do you think that means?”

“I don’t know.”

“If she were trying to leave you a message, wouldn’t this be the book she would leave it in?”

Lou flipped it over and looked at the cover.

“Would she?”

“It’s something you would pick up to remember her, but it wouldn’t hold meaning for anyone else.”

“Maybe.”

“So, do you remember there being an inscription when you were a kid?”

“It’s been ten years,” he said reading the note again.

“Be prepared. Isn’t that what she told you? That you should be prepared?”

“It is.”

“Then what would ‘To the new park preserve’ mean? It’s gotta mean something.”