The Lunenburg Werewolf by Steve Vernon Page A

Mi’kmaq friends. She did not wonder when they told her to stay here awhile. She did not question the Mi’kmaq when they told her that they might be back in the summertime.
    Nannette’s life changed again.
    And again she would have to learn to adapt.

    Hans Gerhardt
    Nannette grew into a woman and became known as one of the town beauties. More than a few young fellows were intrigued at the notion of a woman who had lived such an exciting life. The thought of marrying someone who knew how to hunt and fish and live out of doors was exciting to these young country boys.
    The man who eventually won Nannette’s heart was Hans Gerhardt, a strong, sturdy Germen lad with a reputation for a ready smile—filled with strong white teeth—and a surprisingly quick temper.
    For a time it seemed as if Hans truly loved Nannette. They worked hard on their farm and he was constantly at her side, almost overprotective in his attachment to her. By all appearances the two seemed to be a happy couple and a wonderful part of a growing town.
    After their first year of marriage, Nannette gave birth to a baby daughter. The child seemed to bring out the she-wolf in Nannette. She was fiercely devoted to the little girl, whom she called Marie. But the closer Nannette grew to little Marie, the more Hans distanced himself from Nannette. He seemed to brood and recede into the shadows of their life together. His hatred and jealousy of Marie grew almost palpably.
    Strangely, Nannette never noticed. Perhaps growing up alone as she did had handicapped her social radar. Whatever the reason, she did not pick up on the intensity of Hans’s hated for their young daughter.
    Hans began sleeping alone in the kitchen, rather than in their marriage bed. He spent more and more time in the woods. When Nannette asked him what he did out there, he would smile at her with his strong white teeth and reply with a short retort: “Hunting.”
    When Hans would seethe and growl at their daughter, Nannette would blame it on his working too hard. She feared that he was making himself sick and did not think to suspect any ill-feeling. Even when he would snatch up his red hunting hat with a curse and stalk off into the darkness with a growl on his lips, Nannette seemed none the wiser.
    Still, she had begun to worry. How, she wondered, could a man be so jealous of a little child? What sort of an animal would let that feeling take hold within him?
    She would soon find out.

    A Beast in the Night
    It was about this time that local farmers began to complain about a mysterious beast that was prowling the outskirts of the settlement late at night. It was a strangely shaped creature that followed night travellers far too closely in a swift and stealthy stalking motion. It sometimes stood upright and sometimes galloped on all fours. Sometimes the beast was seen at the window of a cottage—a pair of savage eyes gazing in from the darkness beyond.
    â€œIt is a bear, perhaps,” some farmers suggested. “Or a kind of wolf.”
    But the older men who had seen a little more of life began to wonder just exactly what sort of beast this was. They spoke of an ancient legend concerning a man who had swallowed a wolf. Whatever the man would eat, the wolf would too. Then, when the wolf grew large and powerful, it would burst free from the man’s skin, drawn out by the swelling of the full moon.
    The younger men laughed and told them to go back to their knitting. But old men know an awful lot.
    Livestock began to go missing. Lambs and sheep and goats and cattle were found with their throats torn open and the blood drained from their carcasses. Traps were set and hunting parties went out frequently with dogs and muskets. But to no avail. Whatever was out there knew how to stay hidden.

    The Beast Breaks Free
    In the late summer, tragedy struck. It was berry season. The woodlands were covered with luscious wild blueberries. Hans took a large basket out to