By the time Dill returns to Mrs. Cole's house, night has fallen to the edge of the forest, leaving only a pale orange-red skyline. Twisted and tangled trees spread a dark, silent web of hate, and a few crows flapped their wings as they fled, as if countless creatures of darkness were waiting under the heavy canopy.
Mrs. Cole left her slits open, and as soon as she saw Dill, she pulled her into the house as if she were being chased by some fierce beast.
"The Mayor kept you all so late after what happened last night!"
Mrs. Cole scolded while not forgetting to lock all the doors and windows. Her expression could not hide her nervousness. The old hound Jack, who was supposed to be outside to watch the door, was also driven into the house and is now napping on Lily's lap.
Dill looked at the warm atmosphere of this home, thinking of the mayor's plausible words. The mood could not help but be a few points heavier.
Perhaps because of yesterday's incident, tonight's curfew is enforced particularly strictly. I looked out of the window; outside, in the dark, nothing could be seen, only to hear the hoarse cries of the crows.
At the dinner table, she could see that Mrs. Cole was hesitant to speak, so Dill didn't shy away from revealing what had happened in the sanctuary.
What was surprising was Mrs. Cole's reply:
"That Heber man rings a bell for me, remembered as having a drop beard and an accent heavier than a cow, I think probably the whole town?"
Dill catches a glimmer of insight: "Did he ever talk to you?"
"He and I bought milk and spoke a few words, and I watched him look around for someone to talk to. I never knew the Hebrews were so interested in werewolves."
Mrs. Cole served Dill a bowl of steaming vegetable wheat paste, which spilled a little, and she scraped the edges with a wooden spoon in a distracted manner.
"He's a rude and impolite fellow, and when he comes to the door, he asks me if my husband was killed by a werewolf. And she asked if I was a witch or how else I escaped the werewolf's curse. I should have just thrown boiling milk in his face at the time, but unfortunately, I never got the chance. I can't believe it's him that's missing."
Dill perked up her ears just in time to receive a handful of wheat paste.
"All the people who have gone missing before were townspeople."
Mrs. Cole stared slightly, seeming somewhat dazed. "Yes, ah, this year the missing ones were all out-of-towners; they always say that those out-of-towners don't have loyalty to the faith; that's why they are targeted by the werewolves."
Lily listened intently to them, the wheat paste dripping from her mouth onto the table
Mrs. Cole impatiently wiped her daughter's mouth with the bib on her skirt. "Anyway, I've had enough of this shithole; I'd love to take Lily far away if I could. Those out-of-towners are crazy, coming here in droves; do they think there's a gold mine here?"
There was indeed a gold mine. Dill fished the creamy stewed vegetables with a wooden spoon.
Werewolves were magical creatures covered in magic and, in another way, also covered in treasure.
A werewolf's fur is invulnerable to knives and guns, and its teeth and claws carry a poison no less potent than a curse; a pair of pupils that glow in the night can be made into soul-stirring jewels; and a werewolf's head can even be exchanged for a title and territory in the River Jungli.
Dartnay was lying; he wasn't even a jeweler from Amber; he was a bounty hunter who had come to hunt werewolves.
Regardless of whether Sir Elder was intentionally or unintentionally trying, the nobles of Byfleet Court held Heber jewelry in the highest esteem, and a Heber jeweler would definitely not be ignorant of Byfleet Court even if he couldn't speak the common tongue clearly. The Amber jewelry box she kept in the medicine cabinet was still a cautionary tale of the Great Allegory written in Byfleet Court language.
Darthene and Val, and the first few missing travelers, were 80% bounty hunters who had heard about the werewolf legends of Jonestown and had come specifically to hunt them, which is why they all disappeared in search of the werewolves.
Dill finished her dinner absentmindedly.
It was now certain that Dartnay wouldn't be an alien werewolf, and that Sir Elder seemed to think it was a boring case of murder for money. It's just that those missing people, including the Bronze Knight Russell, were following the traces of the werewolves, did their disappearance really have anything to do with the werewolves?
She asked for some leftovers to feed the turnips, the big white goose flapped its wings in good spirits, and when Dill saw it like that, the dark clouds surrounding her heart floated away like feathers.
Lily couldn't help but sigh when she saw it, "Jack hasn't had much to eat all day."
The old hound was cowering in the girl's arms, Dillng weak whines from time to time, and it turned out that he wasn't sleeping, but twitching uneasily.
The wrinkled lower eyelids pulled out the red underneath, and the old hound looked unusually tired, but he refused to close his eyes, staring instead at the door.
"Jack's getting old, so you'd better leave him alone and let him rest." Mrs. Cole was unimpressed and cleared the table.
Lily bit her lip, and before she could speak, a slender hand reached out and gently pressed against the old hound's head.
The young woman smiled slightly and made a silent gesture to Lily, and without resisting under her hand, the old hound began to slowly close his eyelids, his breathing lengthening before he fell into a deep, deep sleep.
Dill hoped that the Moon Goddess would give the faithful old hound a good night's sleep.
Mrs. Cole still had some work to do, so Dill went ahead and took Lily to bed first.
The girl huffed and puffed as soon as she cuddled up to the old dog, a pair of glittering eyes in the darkness staring the two outsiders dead in the face, sharp claws and teeth poised to descend towards the girl's fragile neck.
"No, Turnip."
Dill laid her hand on the orange-red beak just in time.