But now there are women rising up to fight, as they call it, ‘the threat of werewolves among us,’ and a war hero leads them, one who was injured and sent home, but with a hunger for battle still in his heart. He and others returning from the war are reviving the Brigade with alarming swiftness.”

“Did they accuse all three of those women of being werewolves?” Amy asked, eyes wide.

“They said two were werewolves and the other a werewolf sympathizer. One had an infected wound, and they produced a knife said to have cut into a werewolf as it attacked, and they swore it a perfect match to her wound, although I did not think it was, and I said as much.”

“I’m glad the clinic is so far from us if that’s where werewolves take refuge,” Amy said with a sigh.

“But there is no proof they are what they are accused of being. And you’re safe here, Amy, just as we have always told you. I know you fear the werewolves more than anything else on this earth, but you are well protected, my child,” Marmee said as she smoothed her youngest daughter’s hair.

“And the other women?” Jo asked. “What was the Brigade’s case against them?”

“The other accused of being a werewolf had a weak infant, and we all know pure werewolves, those born of both werewolf mothers and fathers, languish during their first few years. But hunger and poverty also cause infant weakness, a fact the Brigade chose to ignore completely.”

“What of the sympathizer?”

“I have no idea what evidence they had against that woman. They took her out by her hair as she kicked, cried, and screamed; but what is saddest is that sometime during the mêlée, the ailing infant perished. It is so unfair that they continue to lay blame only at the feet of the poor; I cannot recall a time that a wealthy person was executed as either a werewolf or a werewolf sympathizer. Oh, but the Brigade frightened us all, stomping about in those horrible breastplates and helmets, and I saw absolutely that some of them were women. The whole affair was surely as brutal and inhuman as anything on the war’s battlefields.”

“We are all so helpless against that foul Brigade, it’s a wonder they have amassed such great support,” Meg said.

“People are afraid, and they are selfish. They cannot see what it’s like to be another, to live as a werewolf with a need for human meat. And because they are the werewolves’ prey, they vilify the poor creatures and view them as purely evil. I think, although most citizens disapprove of the Brigade’s tactics, they yet view it as necessary.”

“If only the whole world had Father’s generous outlook!” Beth exclaimed.

“If that were the case, he would be here by our sides because there would be no war either against werewolves or against each other,” said Marmee.

“Come warm yourself by the fire, Mother,” Meg suggested.

Marmee nodded and held her hands out toward the comforting flames of the hearth. “I reminded the Brigade that it was nearly Christmas, but they turned the table and reminded me of the woman slaughtered and eaten last month who had children of her own left behind and alone for Christmas. But I then spoke up once more to add that they would be quite busy if they wished to rid us of werewolves completely, for with so many gone in the war, a full one-quarter of our population are now werewolves, rich as well as poor; of all ages and both men and women.”

“And what was their reaction then, Marmee?” asked Jo, inching forward to better hear and memorize her mother’s tale of confrontation.

“They differed, as expected, saying that nowhere near that many werewolves exist, but there were many others present who believed my figures accurate. No one in that room could remember a time when there were no werewolves among us; some recalled even long-dead forebears relating their childhood memories of bolting their doors on nights with full moons.”

“I overheard Father, just before he left, estimating that it was close to one-third of this town’s population who are werewolves,” said Beth.

“It can’t be that many!” Amy exclaimed.

Marmee glanced at her other daughters, and they all quickly assured Amy that the quoted numbers were inflated, although in their hearts they feared the numbers to be even higher.

“And the werewolves all live far from us, don’t they?” Amy questioned.

“They do, indeed,” Marmee said with a smile. “Just as we have always told you.”

“What happened then, Marmee?” Jo asked, wanting sorely to hear the remaining details of the story.

“The Brigade declared before everyone present that their newly formed band is true to the original goals established nearly one hundred years ago, and that they will hunt any and all werewolves, that privilege carries no weight in their eyes.”

“Privilege always carries weight,” said Meg with a heavy sigh as she looked down at the threadbare carpet.

“I like Father’s idea to school the werewolves in self-control so they might dampen their urges, just as we all learn to resist sin,” Jo said. “I believe it is an innovative concept, one that would prove meritorious, and might allow others to trust them more readily. As Father always said, man slaughters as swiftly as any werewolf. I feel the good sense of his words each time I walk past a butcher shop and see the hapless animal heads and body parts displayed and awaiting some family’s supper table. After all, everyone knows the unfortunate truth that werewolves must, occasionally, eat human meat and blood to be healthy and strong. Eating only animals, they will eventually wither and languish, sicken and die. Some allowances must surely be made for that.”

“Anyone who opens his mind and heart could see as much,” Marmee agreed, “and I am thankful your father is not here now to witness the Brigade’s atrocities. The dear man respects all life equally. He always did, and for that rare, compassionate stripe, I fell in love with him. For there have been instances when werewolves stopped suddenly in mid-attack, and we can only assume it was because they recognized their victim. They, like us, become what they are taught, so I, too, think education is essential.”

“But what of those victims not born werewolves? Those whom if they are bitten, but their hearts are not eaten, then become werewolves?”

“Well, they still live, so can learn. Live and pray and work and love, as we all do, except for that one short night each month. This wrathful contempt for werewolves is impious.”

“Speak no more of this, Marmee.