Odds Are Good by Bruce Coville Page B

a move against me. But neither would they let me approach them. Whenever I tried they would bare their fangs and raise their hackles.
    I did not mention them to anyone, for our village was a superstitious place. But in the end my silence was of little value; the villagers turned against me anyway.
    Of all the people in the village Wandis was my closest friend. I thought her very beautiful, with her red hair and strangely blue eyes. Yet she was as much an outcast as I, somehow unable to fit properly into the life of the community. Naturally, this gave us something in common.
    Sometimes when I went to the forest to gather wood, or simply to be alone, I would find Wandis on her hands and knees, examining some plant. She knew wonderful things about them. Once she showed me a small, low-growing vine called Sal-o-My-Heart; it was adorned with clusters of miniature red berries, and she claimed it could be used to make a man or woman fall in love. I asked her to give me some, teasing that I might use it on her. But she only blushed and turned my attention elsewhere.
    I remember that day well, because a few weeks later one of the village women accused Wandis of witchcraft. She said Wandis had used her powers to steal her husband’s love. I thought it more likely the woman’s own nagging had turned her husband away, and his eyes had strayed to Wandis because she was young and very lovely. Even so, I asked Wandis if what the woman said was true. She patted my cheek, and told me not to be silly.
    It was not so easy to turn aside the village elders. She could not pat
their
cheeks and tell them to go away when they came to take her. When I spoke out on her behalf, I was accused, too. (“Only a witch would defend a witch,” they said.)
    We were given a trial, which was a mockery, and sentenced to be burned at the stake. And this they would have done, had not the wolves come to our rescue.
    It was late October. I was bound with stout ropes and thrown into a woodshed built against the side of one of the elders’ homes. The space was cold and cramped, and though a little light filtered in during the daytime, after sunset it became completely black. Yet my thoughts were less of my current discomfort than of the morning, and the flame. I wondered how long it would hurt. I wondered, too, how my fellow villagers could be so cruel.
    Â 
    Shortly after midnight I heard something scratching outside the wall of my prison. I felt a shiver run down my spine, for I had no idea what it was, and there were many tales in our village of the strange things that wander after dark.
    The noise went on for some time. It seemed to be getting closer. Then it stopped. Suddenly a great, furry shape was pressing against me. Had I not become so used to the wolves I might have died of fright right then.
    The wolf began to gnaw at the ropes that held my hands and feet. It was not long before they parted under his sharp teeth. Taking the leg of my trouser in those same teeth, he guided me to the wall, where I discovered the hole he had dug to get in. It took some work to enlarge the hole enough for me to wriggle through it. By the time we were done, I was hot and sweaty and filthy. But I was also free!
    The wolf whined and tugged at my trouser leg again. Obviously he wanted to get away from the village as quickly as possible. But I would not go until we had freed Wandis, too.
    As it turned out, the wolves were ahead of me. A familiar voice whispered to me from nearby. Only the soft growl of warning from the wolf at my side kept me from crying out her name. I moved forward to embrace her, but two huge wolves stepped between us, barring my way.
    â€œDon’t be foolish!” I hissed angrily.
    They bared their fangs. The sound that rumbled in their throats was too soft to wake those sleeping in the house. Nevertheless, the menace it contained was genuine.
    The wolf that freed me had been joined by another of the beasts. They tugged at my clothing