R. Stine: The Werewolf of Fever Swamp

"The dog probably belongs to someone," Mom said. "You can't just claim any dog that wanders by. Besides, he's so big, Grady. He's too big to — "

"Aw, let him keep it," Emily called from the house.

I stared at her in shock. I couldn't remember the last time Emily and I had been on the same side of a family argument.

The discussion continued for several minutes more. Everyone agreed that he seemed like a sweet-tempered, gentle dog despite his huge size. And he certainly was affectionate. I couldn't make him stop licking me.

Glancing up, I saw Will come out of his house and head across the back lawns toward us. He was wearing a sleeveless blue T-shirt and blue Lycra bicycle shorts. "Hi! Look what we found!" I called.

I introduced Will to my mom and dad. Emily had disappeared back to her room to get dressed.

"Have you seen this dog before?" Dad asked Will. "Does he belong to someone in the neighborhood?"

Will shook his head. "Nope. Never seen him." He cautiously petted the dog's head.

"Where'd you come from, fella?" I asked, staring into the creature's eyes. They were blue. Sky-blue.

"He looks more like a wolf than a dog," Will said.

"Yeah. He really does," I agreed. "Was that you howling like a wolf all last night?" I asked the dog. He tried to lick my nose, but I pulled my face back in time.

I glanced up at Will. "Did you hear those howls last night? They were really weird."

"No. I didn't hear anything," Will replied. "I'm a very sound sleeper. My dad comes into my room and shouts through a megaphone to wake me up in the morning. Really!"

We all laughed.

"He really does look like a wolf," Mom commented, staring at the dog's blue eyes.

"Wolves are skinnier," Dad remarked. "Their snouts are narrower. He could be part wolf, I suppose. But it's not very likely in this geographical area."

"Let's call him Wolf," I suggested enthusiastically. "It's the perfect name for him." I climbed to my feet. "Hi, Wolf," I called to the dog. "Wolf! Hi, Wolf!"

His ears perked straight up.

"See? He likes the name!" I exclaimed. "Wolf! Wolf!"

He barked at me, a single yip.

"Can I keep him?" I asked.

Mom and Dad exchanged long glances. "We'll see," Mom said.

That afternoon, Will and I headed to the swamp to do some exploring. My nightmares about the swamp lingered in my mind. But I did my best to force them away.

It was a blazing hot day. The sun burned down in a clear, cloudless sky. As we crossed my back yard, I hoped it would be cooler in the leafy shade of the swamp.

I glanced back at Wolf. He was napping in the hot sunlight on his side, his four legs stretched straight out in front of him.

We had fed him before lunch, some leftover roast beef scraps from our dinner the night before. He gobbled it up hungrily. Then, after slurping up an entire bowl of water, he dropped down in the grass in front of the back stoop to take his nap.

Will and I followed the dirt path into the slanting trees. Black-and-orange monarch butterflies, four or five of them, fluttered over a bank of tall wildflowers.

"Hey!" I cried out as my foot sank into a marshy spot in the dirt. When I pulled my sneaker out, it was covered with wet sand.

"Have you seen the bog?" Will asked. "It's kind of neat."

"Yeah. Let's go there," I said enthusiastically. "We can throw sticks in and stun", and watch them sink."

"Do you think any people ever got sunk in the bog?" Will asked thoughtfully. He brushed a mosquito off his broad forehead, then scratched his short, dark brown hair.

"Maybe," I replied, following him as he turned off the path and headed through a wide patch of tall reeds. "Do you think it would really suck you down into it, like quicksand?"

"My dad says there's no such thing as quicksand," Will said.

"I bet there is," I told him. "I bet people have fallen into the bog accidentally and gotten sucked down. If we brought a fishing rod, we could cast a line in and pull up their bones."

"Gross," he said.

We were walking over a carpet of dead brown leaves. Our sneakers crunched noisily as we made our way under tangled palm trees toward the bog.

Suddenly, Will stopped. "Ssshhh." He raised a finger to his lips.

I heard it, too.

Crunching behind us.

Footsteps.

We both froze in place, listening hard. The footsteps drew closer.

Will's dark eyes narrowed in fear. "Someone's following us," he murmured. "It's the swamp hermit!"

"Quick — hide!" I cried.

Will dived behind a thick clump of tall weeds. I tried to follow him, but there wasn't room for both of us.

Crawling on my hands and knees, I searched frantically for something to hide behind.

The crackling of dead leaves became louder. The footsteps hurried closer.

I scrambled toward a nest of brambles. No. They wouldn't hide me.

A clump of ferns across from me was too low.

The footsteps crackled closer.

Closer.

"Hide! Hide!" Will urged.

But I was trapped out in the open. Caught.

I struggled to my feet just as our pursuer came into view.

"Wolf!" I cried.

The big dog's tail began wagging furiously as soon as he saw me. He uttered a joyful bark — and jumped.

"No!" I managed to cry.

His front paws landed hard on my chest. I stumbled backwards into the tall weeds and fell onto Will.

"Hey!" He cried out and scrambled to his feet.

Wolf barked happily and practically smothered me, trying to lick my face.

"Wolf — down! Down!" I shouted. I stood up and started brushing dead leaves off my T-shirt. "Wolf, you've got to stop doing that, boy," I told him. "You're not a little puppy, you know?"

"How did he find us?" Will asked, pulling a burr off the seat of his blue Lycra shorts.

"Good nose, I guess," I replied, staring down at the happily panting dog. "Maybe he's part hunting dog or something."

"Let's get to the bog," Will said impatiently. He began leading the way, but Wolf pushed past him, nearly bumping him over, and continued trotting toward the bog, his powerful legs taking long, steady strides.

"Wolf acts as if he knows where we're going," I said, a little surprised.

"Maybe he's been here before," Will replied. "Maybe he's a swamp dog."

"Maybe," I replied thoughtfully, staring down at Wolf. Where do you come from, dog? I wondered. He certainly did seem at home in the swamp.

In a short while, we came to the edge of the peat bog. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and stared across the oval-shaped pond.

Shafts of sunlight made the green surface sparkle. Thousands of tiny white insects fluttered just above it, catching the light, glistening like little diamonds.

Will picked up a small tree branch. He cracked it in half between his hands. Then he heaved one of the halves high into the air.

It hit the surface of the bog with more of a thunk than a splash. And then it just lay there. It didn't sink.

"Weird," I said. "Let's try something heavier."

I started to search for something, but a low growl caught my attention. I turned toward the sound. To my surprise, it was coming from Wolf.

The dog had lowered its big head. Its entire body stood tensed, as if in attack position. Its dark lips were pulled back, revealing two sharp rows of teeth. It uttered a low growl, then another.

"I think he senses danger," Will said softly.

Wolf uttered another menacing growl, baring his jagged teeth. The fur on his back stood up stiffly. His legs tensed as if preparing to attack.

The sound of crackling twigs made me raise my eyes. I saw a gray figure darting behind tall weeds on the other side of the bog.

"Who — who's that?" Will whispered.

I stared straight ahead, unable to speak.