The Wolves Of Eisenbach

In the year 1512, a winter so cold fell upon the country side as to drive the wolves of Eisenbach into the village after its people. Human flesh was too sweet a lull and they were too close to death. It was not within the nature of the wolf to act in such a way before this year was upon them. The dark of the night brought forth the howls. Behind closed doors the snarls and snaps at the wooden doors enforced terror from the walls within.
On the morning of the fourth day the village gathered and sent two boys, hardly men to the ruling castle where the only weapons capable of breaking a wolfs skull could be found. The head of the castle was sought after and not found. He had come to retiring to the library and was not one to be fighting creatures of the night at his age. So his sons were requested as they were the only ones knowing of the weaponry at hand. There were five sons that lived in the castle. Of the five two were willing to hear the villagers case. The second oldest and the youngest son who was but 16.
They gathered in the great hall. The young men pleaded with the eldest son to go deep into the black forest where the pack lay, seek them out and kill them. Even if he were to go into the wood and find the pack, he argued, there was not a chance for one to get out alive against the 5 wolves that were known to gather in the village.
The youngest son listened intently to this, and upon hearing his brothers refusal, offered himself to the villages to go and rid the town of wolves.
His bravery was met with mockery and laughter by all. The elder brother had killed a wolf or two before and many venison. The young lad had hardly slew rabbits at best. The hunting was left to men, they said, and he could hardly serve any purpose there in the black forest of beasts, asides for perhaps, wolf bait.
The villagers left. Young Niklas walked to the room of weapons, and there gathered a sword which belonged to his father, a heavy flail, and three daggers which he stored away in his clothing. He wore little but a light breast plate which allowed him much movement, and a spiked collar which would prevent the wolves from too quickly tearing out his throat. He wanted at the very least a slower death which would allow him to kill as many in the pack as time allowed.
Nikalas took his older brothers mare and headed west into the black forest. It was midday when he arrived. The country side was quiet and covered in a thick blanket of pure white snow which, in the daylight, was near blinding. He approached the edge of the wood. It was then he heard the first howl. One joined by another, then in all, a chorus so beautiful and terrible rose around him as if the souls of the dead were joining in an army against him on the frosted earth. He had been seen. They were signaling to one another. He quicken his horses pace and retreated into the open snow. He wished to draw them out. Without the defenses of the wood he would be more likely to take them down. One by one.
Behind him he gazed upon two of the animals. They spent not a moments glance at him, then broke free into a run upon the field. He turned his horse around and headed toward them, The flail in his free hand swinging wildly in the air in its ferocious circle. Before impact the wolves separated. One on either side of him. He hit the wolf on his right full force with the flail and heard his skull crack. The one on his left jumped and tore at the mares body so she shrieked and wailed. Thought he remained on the horse he knew he would not for much longer. She was bleeding, and crying, and it was fear now that kept her running, though this time it was away from the woods as two more of the pack swiftly ran out towards them. He had half a mind himself to run straight back into the village. But it was only a moments fear. And he knew well he might have it. They ran fast behind him, three now in all, and one lay dead. All growled with hunger and the hunt. Closing in on him now in front were three more beasts. It was a trap. Once surrounded, he swung his flail in a circle around them. He hit two more before the wolves had conquered the horses legs and brought her down with him still atop her. Dismounted and throwing the flail down he drew his sword. Now he was breathing and bleeding as heavy as the beasts themselves. Four circled him, and when one would attack he would drive his fathers sword straight through his heart and clean after turn to stab another lunging after with his dagger. He knew what they meant to do. They were trying to wear him down. He was their game. But he did not wear down. Two were now left. They attacked at once, to end their game and him. His arm was almost bitten off, with the one remaining he stabbed wildly at the smaller of the two and screamed as a beast himself upon doing so. The alpha was left and backed away to watch the last of his pack be slaughtered.
Niklas lay, strewn with blood and torn almost open. He breathe heavy with the remaining wolf. The largest. The most beautiful. Their breath, clouds of white smoke in the winters air. He looked into the wolfs eyes. They shone upon him, almost in comfort and peace. The snow begin to fall. All around him, red out-blinded white with the blood of this great and heroic battle. One, which Niklas knew would be the only greatness he would ever achieve in life. Even if he were to have just killed one wolf. Here, he killed five.
The animal circled him and the cold started to take Niklas. He looked to the sky and saw the faint of stars gathering about to appear in the early evening sky. The sky he loved as a child. The sky that gave him the only warmth and comfort as the neglected brother, young and useless to a family of so many that succeeded before him.
He heard a voice now, and looked to the wolf.
“The pack is dead” it said in a lowly and dark whisper “ I will not survive alone this winter”
It was the wolf speaking as it circled him, again and again. Niklas lay and looked with his eyes and heard with his heart, his enemies thoughts. His body almost broken by the others.
“ It is a choice I give to you, the beast spoke and said “You may kill me…you may try… Or…I may kill you, and eat, and stay alive on your bones for winter months, it would be in fact the only choice you were to make for yourself…your whole life….”
Niklas smiled as he lay in the snow and said “Alas you do not see” he said to the wolf…I came here to die. I knew I would die. But what better death could a child as I wish for….I could have lived my life out there… in the castle walls. A shadow to those around me as I have been my whole life…never going further then the village. Always living a life they planned out for me…or…I could come here and meet you…meet my death…and for once…take my life…into my own hands…and that is what …I have Done….Now…I am a hero…where I was…Nothing before…”
Niklas lay in the snow and allowed the wolf to come and tear out his insides. He looked at the sky and clearer now…saw the stars for the last time.