Chapter 1: Big Bad Bertha turns
Snowfall three weeks into the third month of travel. Reiach and Phiagro were having a hard time with the cold, but were able to press through. Bertha was skipping like a child through the snowflakes, however, Horatio was having the hardest time. He shook constantly and the only thing that kept his heart from stopping were his feathers. Bertha, more out of losing property than out of compassion, drop her bag of supplies and whipped up a hot concoction that was so hearty and potent that it put new life into the rooster: he stopped shaking.
“I don't feel cold at all.” Horatio said.
“Good. You'll be warm for three hours until it wears off.” she said passing a cup to Phigaro and Reiach, “You two drink up.”
“Thanks, Bertha, We really appreciate this.” said the otter.
“Don't get all sappy with me,” she said cutting him off, “Make it quick we have another week of marching to do and the snow gets thicker. Here's some information for you. It snows on and off in Gosha eight months out of the year. We have two seasons: winter and spring. If you want to survive there, do what I say and don't stray from me. You likely to be ripped to shreds if the gangs don't recognize you.”
“Gangs?” said Horatio.
“Three major ones; there use to be seven of which I was involved with one of them.” she said looking into the distance with a sad expression. “I--I have three sons in Gosha.”
“You've got kids.” Phigaro said, “Do they make mama proud?”
The she wolf didn't say anything. It looked like she was going to cry, but she quickly rose to her feet, gathered her supplies and ordered her slaves to move.
“Was it something I said?” replied Phigaro.
“Phigaro, its usually something you said,” returned Reiach.
The week came quickly. The snow was three feet high, which forced Phigaro and Reiach to hop in and out of the white powder like little bunny rabbits. Bertha turned around to watch, and even cracked a smile. But she soon became preoccupied with something else. She sniffed the air and her face had a hint of fear.
“All there of come close to me.” said Bertha waving for them to move. “Come, now.”
“But you told us never to get near you,” Reiach said.
“Do it now or you're going to die,” she said in a calm voice.
“We're being hunted.” The trio huddle beside Bertha.
“I don't see nothing.” said Phigaro flipping his big eyeballs from side to side, “Maybe you made a mistake.”
A howl that was long and menacing was hear in the distance.
“Let's make a run for it.” said Horatio, “The howl was far away.”
“They're clever.” said Bertha nodding pensively. “It' the oldest trick in the book: make your prey believe that your miles away; and went they make a run for it, send out the rest to make the kill. Besides,” said Bertha dropping her bag, “ I'm three hundred pounds I
cant outrun anything.”
“So what do we do.” said Reiach.
“Wait.” she said, “Let them come to us. Hopefully there's not a lot of them and we can fight for our lives.”
They didn't have to wait for long. A hooded figure ran cautiously behind the trees, taking a few pauses to assess the situation. Another figure appeared to their right and then five more emerged from their left. Every wolf wore a dark hooded cape which hid their eyes. Muzzles were covered with iced snow and the heat from their nostrils resembled smoked chimney stacks. Gradually they surrounded Bertha and the trio. Not one wolf spoke or made any inclination to fight.
“If you going to attack, do it!” said Bertha taking her fighting stance.
“I kill six of you before I go down.”
“Mom,” said a commanding voice, “There's no need for harm.”
From the white fog, as if he was a ghost, appeared another wolf more commanding is stature than the rest. He removed his hood and when he did, Bertha relinquished her fighting stance. This wolf had no characteristics of its mother. Bertha stood at eight feet six inches and gray fur. This wolf pure white just like the snow, he was only seven feet nine inches tall and his two hundred thirty pounds was a combination of agility and muscle. A little goatee hung from his chin, a style that he preferred, and along his forearms were leather gauntlets. His name was Durro, alpha male of his pack of thirty gangsters. He walked over to hug his mother, but was meet was a sharp slap upside head. His subordinates went to defend their leader, but he quickly intimated for them to stay at bay with wave of his hand.
“Is that how you treat one of you favorite sons,” he said rubbing his head, “I haven't seen you in seven years.”
“You need a good whopping!” Bertha said looking at the other wolves, “Who are these, new recruits?”
“Yes,” Durro said, “I was taking them out on a tracking raid. I didn't expect to find the greatest mother in the world.” he said with a cheesy smile.
“Please.” replied Bertha rolling her eyes.
Durro took notice of the trio still huddled beside her.
“Recruiting yourself I see.” he replied stooping down.
“They're slaves, nothing more.” she replied.
“Durro, do you love your mother?” Durro stood up immediately.
“Of course, anything for the greatest mother in the world.”
“Then get me out of this snow,” she said pushing him to side.
“Just like old times,” Durro said smiling. “Just like old times.”
Horatio, Rieach, and Phigaro didn't move. It wasn't until Bertha beckoned them to follow that they joined the group. Durro took them over the white snowy plains of his land. As the lead male of his small pack he commanded a small territory around the outskirts of Gosha. He boasted of his exploits of thievery, brawls, and spying against his two brothers to his mother, but Bertha only grunted. Her son's involvement with gang activity brought up old memories that she had wished has died years ago.
Over the next hill was Durro hideout: a grand castle built along side the towering cliffs of the coastline. Reiach saw it as a beautiful white palace. The glittering ember lights invited them to bask in the warmth inside. At the gate Durro and the other wolves gave their signature howls, that were so clear and harmonious that if could have been a concerto. From inside they heard the inner works of the gate beginning to open, which swung back allowing the heat from inside to engulf them. At the entrance stood a skinny black wolf wearing a worn out top hat, a pair of dirty spats around his ankles, and five button coat was minus one. His arms were wipe open to welcome his leader back to the castle, but his jubilation for his leader soon turned towards the leader's mother. The black wolf ran in place with such fury that his spats flew up to his knees. He turned with a snap and shouted so the entire castle could hear,
“HEY EVERYBODY, BIG BAD BERTHA IS BACK!”
A rush of twenty wolves of all came to the entrance and greeted Bertha with shouts and cheers. The trio were total forgotten and tip- toed inside by the nearest fire place to keep warm. The skinny black wolf rushed over to Durro with a spring in his step.
“You mom's back,” he said rubbing his hands together, “We're going to eat good again, right?”
“Casey,” said Durro putting his arm around his shoulder, “We'll eat like kings the rest of our days. Think about it, Casey,” he said staring into space, “Homemade apple pie, hearty soups, banana bread in the springtime, and all the stews, desserts, and sandwiches you can force you stomach to keep down.
“What about those biscuits?” replied Casey licking his chops, “You know the ones with the honey glaze on top? Will she make them, Durro, make my heart glad by saying so. Durro gave the thumbs up, and Casey did a gig to celebrate. Amongst all the commotion, Bertha made a speech to silence them all.
“All right, shut up all of you, “ she said placing her hand on her hips, “I'm not cooking tonight. I've traveled for twelve hours today and I'm tired. I cook for you tomorrow: there will be grits and cornbread tomorrow for breakfast.”
Bertha ignore the downtrodden looks as she turned away. She took the trio through the castle into the basement were a kitchen was located. She closed the door and sat down on the two steps by the door. Reiach saw her weariness: her hand on her face, her head cast downward in agony, and the her deep sigh communicated that she did not want to be bothered. But Phigaro, hating the lingering silence, decided to strike up a conversation. “He looks nothing like you.”
Bertha raised her head.
“Who Durro? He's adopted, if you can call it that.” she said standing to her feet. “His mother and father were killed in a gang war. I found him in the forest scared out of his wits. I took him as one of my own.”
“He has brothers too?” said Phigaro.
“Two: Drake and Nape. Both of them hate him. They been trying to kill him since….” She stopped suddenly, barely getting the words from her mouth. Her sadness changed into a frightful grimace.
“Why are you asking me questions anyway?” she said grabbing Phigaro by the tail, turning him upside down, “You've got to get up early in the morning for breakfast. We've got thirty hungry wolves to fed so get some rest.
She placed Phigaro on his head, leaving the trio to rest on the cold floor.