Wood shavings coated my lap. A fine-tipped chisel rolled in my fingers while I sought my fading pencil lines. A quick blow cast dust into the air and my nose. Wetting sawdust lips, I turned the bijou in my grip.
“Stable boy!”
Pocketing the figure and tool, I rose from the hay bale I sat on. The sounds of the city and stench of manure enveloped my conscious mind. The master of the inn returned to his customer, another boy bringing in the new horse to be boarded. Tossing hay into the other stalls took moments. I swept the cobblestones and prepared one of the mares for departure.
When quiet set in, I returned to my post. The wooden bijou stared with hollow eyes, awaiting completion. I shaved fine details of fur onto the figure’s back and snout. Pointed ears finished, I worked carefully on the curled tail. Every periodic blow on the paws and face cleared my perspective.
Hay crinkled beside me. “What are you making now?”
“Take a guess.” I paused with the tool, glancing at Margaret from the corner of my eye.
Lips pursed, she squinted at the palm-sized figurine. Twirling a strand of strawberry-blond hair, she said, “A dog.”
I smiled at how her accent emphasized vowels. “Close. It’s a wolf.” Returning to my work, I kept scraping for more detail.
“Are you going to add eyes?”
“You know I never do.”
“Just once? It’s unnerving.”
Biting my lip, I kept working. Avoiding the eyes. The question hung on the air, refreshed with her every breath on my shoulder. But I couldn’t fulfill her wish, nor explain why.
Spinning the needle, I looked over my work. The wolf stood proud, fangs visible past his lips. The wood grain gave color depth to the fur. Excellent proportions, realistic detail. It only needed eyes.
“They don’t have to be pretty,” Margaret whimpered. Brow furrowed and lip puckered, she garnered my sympathy.
“Stable boy!”
With little thought, I carved a dot into each socket and handed the bijou to her. Racing to fulfill my task, I prayed my carelessness would prevent anything bad from happening. Sweat beaded on my neck while I took the new horse into an empty stall and filled the buckets with water. Ears tuned to every creak and squeak, I waited for the inevitable.
Quiet haunted me the rest of the day, especially when Margaret left with the little figurine. I tried to fashion a new block into a bear, but my fingers shook too vigorously. I paced, wielding the broom as an excuse.
The moon rose, and my anxiety sank. The other boys slept in the loft while I curled on the stable floor. Hemmed in by hay bales, I relaxed on the cold stone. Every fear washed away, hopes for a quiet future numerous as the starry night. Eyes heavy, I descended into darkness.
A scream shattered my ears.
Lurching upward, sweat coated my skin. A white nightgown raced across the corridor. I rose to follow when the horses grew restless.
A snarl curled my toes. Large paws came in view, haunches progressing methodically. A long snout twitched after the previous figure, ears quirking toward every sound. Wood scraped stone while the creature creaked. Once the size of my palm, the wolf now stood as tall as a small child.
Slinking behind the creature, I recollected all of Father’s lessons. Not that I was ever good at stopping my figurines. Taking my carving needle from my pocket, I spun the handle between my fingers. A low whistle left my lips.
The wolf stopped, turning its attention from Margaret. Its pinpoint eyes glared while I sidestepped closer. Wetting my lips, I whistled again, lowering the tone. Fur bristling, the wolf bent with a snarl.
“Carter.”
I gestured for silence, hoping Margaret kept her distance. The stale breath of the creature battered my cheek, my gaze level with its. White-knuckling my little tool, my fingers tingled with energy. The stem of my neck burned when blue lightning passed from my hand to the metal.
The wooden jaw snapped open.
I jabbed the carving tool. Blue sparks scarred the wood grain, diving deep into the precise details. The wood splintered and shriveled. The figurine lay in two, returned to its original size.
Shouldn’t have added eyes. They always brought life.