Werewolf of Fever Swamp by R. L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page B

Didn’t you hear those frightening howls? It wasn’t a dog howling like that. Dogs don’t howl like that!”
    “Then what was it?” Emily demanded.
    “I heard them, too,” Dad said, stepping between us. “They sounded more like wolf howls. Or maybe a coyote.”
    “See?” I told Emily.
    “But I’d be very surprised to find a wolf or coyote in this area,” Dad continued, gazing out toward the swamp.
    Emily still had her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She gazed down at Wolf and shuddered. “He’s dangerous, Dad. You really have to get rid of him.”
    Dad walked over and patted Wolf’s head. He scratched Wolf under the chin. Wolf licked Dad’s hand.
    “Let’s just be careful around him,” Dad said. “He seems very gentle. But we don’t really know anything about him—do we? So let’s be very careful, okay?”
    “I’m going to be careful,” Emily replied, narrowing her eyes at Wolf. “I’m going to stay as far away from that monster as I can.” She turned and stormed back to the house.
    Dad made his way to the shed to get a shovel and box to carry away the dead rabbit in.
    I dropped to my knees and hugged Wolf’s broad neck. “You aren’t a monster, are you, boy?” I asked. “Emily is crazy, isn’t she? You’re not a monster. That wasn’t you I saw running toward the swamp last night, was it?”
    Wolf raised his deep blue eyes to mine. He stared hard at me.
    He seemed to be trying to tell me something.
    But I had no idea what it could be.

 
    19

    That night I didn’t hear the howls.
    I woke up in the middle of the night and stared out the window. Wolf was gone, probably exploring the swamp. In the morning, I knew he’d come running back to greet me as if I were a long lost friend.
    The next morning Will showed up just as I was giving Wolf his breakfast, a big bowl of crunchy, dry dog food. “Hey, what’s up?” Will asked, his usual greeting.
    “Nothing much,” I said. I rolled up the top of the big bag of dog food and dragged it back into the kitchen. Wolf stood over his bowl, his head lowered, chewing noisily away.
    I pushed open the screen door and returned to Will. He was wearing a dark blue muscle shirt and black Lycra bike shorts. He had a green-and-yellow Forest Service cap pulled down over his dark hair.
    “Want to go exploring?” he asked in his hoarse voice, watching Wolf hungrily gobble down his breakfast. “You know. In the swamp?”
    “Yeah. Sure,” I said. I called inside to tell my parents where I was going. Then I followed Will across the back lawn toward the swamp.
    Wolf came scampering after us. He’d run past us, then let us catch up. Then he’d run in crazy zigzags in front of us, behind us, romping happily under the hot morning sun.
    “Did you hear about Mr. Warner?” Will asked. He stopped to pick up a long blade of grass and put it between his teeth.
    “Who?”
    “Ed Warner,” Will replied. “I guess you haven’t met the Warners yet. They live in the very last house.” He turned and pointed behind us to the last white house at the end of the row of white houses.
    “What about him?” I asked, nearly tripping over Wolf, who had come rumbling past my feet.
    “He’s missing,” Will replied, chewing on the grass blade. “He didn’t come home last night.”
    “Huh? From where?” I asked, turning to stare at the Warners’ house. Heat waves shimmered up from the grass, making the house appear to bend and quiver.
    “From the swamp,” Will replied darkly. “Mrs. Warner called my mom this morning. She said Mr. Warner went hunting yesterday afternoon. He likes to hunt wild turkeys. He took me with him a couple times. He’s real good at chasing them down. When he kills one, he hangs its feet up on his den wall.”
    “He does?” I cried. It sounded pretty gross to me.
    “Yeah. You know. Like a trophy,” Will continued. “Anyway, he went hunting wild turkeys in the swamp yesterday afternoon, and he hasn’t come home.”
    “Weird,” I