One I recognised as the minstrel who had sung for his supper the night before. He had a pretty voice and everyone had been happy to drop a few coins i... his hat. His companion was a pale faced youth with long hair, which was lank and matted and in need of a good wash. He told us that he was a scholar who had fled the pestilence from his university in Paris, only to find his whole family dead on his return to his father’s house. From his mien and the long scar from brow to chin that disfigured. On a sudden impulse I tackled him, sent him head-first into the water. When he emerged he shook himself, showering me again with water. By now I was laughing, after the shock and the fear, sending the werewolf into the water and see him shake himself like a wet dog just did this to me. And we played on, chasing and splashing each other. It did not matter, that we were not able to talk. At least I was sure, that he could understand me, even if he could not talk. He wasn't a stupid animal. This. More

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