Free Werewolf of Fever Swamp by R. L. Stine Page A

cute.
    “People in town are upset,” Dad replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker. “A lot of animals have been killed this week. And a guy who lives down the way, Ed Warner, has disappeared in the swamp. People are very worried. They’ve heard the howls, too.”
    “Are you taking Wolf away?” I repeated shrilly, my voice trembling.
    Dad nodded. His expression remained grim. He took a long sip of coffee. “Go look at the paw prints outside the pen, Grady,” he said, locking his eyes on mine. “Go ahead. Take a look.”
    “I don’t care about prints,” I moaned. “I just know—”
    “I can’t take any more chances,” Dad said.
    “I don’t care! He’s my dog!” I screamed.
    “Grady—” Dad set down the cup and started toward me.
    But I burst past him and ran to the door. Pushing open the screen door, I leapt off the back stoop.
    Wolf stood up as soon as he saw me. His tail started to wag. Leaving the blue rubber ball behind, he began loping toward me eagerly.
    Dad was right behind me. “I’m going to take the dog away now, Grady,” he said. “Do you want to come along?”
    “No!” I cried.
    “I have no choice,” Dad said, his voice just above a whisper. He stepped forward and reached for Wolf.
    “No!” I shouted. “No! Run, Wolf! Run!”
    I gave the dog a shove. Wolf turned to me uncertainly.
    “Run!” I screamed. “Run! Run!”

 
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    I gave Wolf another hard shove. “Run! Run, boy! Go!”
    Dad had his hands around Wolf’s shoulders, but he didn’t have a good grip.
    Wolf broke free and started to run toward the swamp.
    “Hey—!” Dad called angrily. He chased Wolf to the end of the back yard. But the big dog was too fast for him.
    I stood behind the house, breathing hard, and watched Wolf until he disappeared into the low trees at the edge of the swamp.
    Dad turned back toward me, an angry expression on his face. “That was dumb, Grady,” he muttered.
    I didn’t say anything.
    “Wolf will come back later,” Dad said. “When he does, I’ll have to take him away.”
    “But, Dad—” I started.
    “No more discussion,” he said sternly. “As soon as the dog returns, I’m taking him to the pound.”
    “You can’t !” I screamed.
    “The dog is a killer, Grady. I have no choice.” Dad headed toward the car. “Come help me unload this wire mesh. I’ll need your help getting the pen patched up.”
    I gazed toward the swamp as I followed Dad to the car. Don’t come back, Wolf, I pleaded silently. Please, don’t come back.

    All day long, I watched the swamp. I felt nervous, shaky. I had no appetite at all. After I helped Dad repair the deer pen, I stayed in my room. I tried to read a book, but the words were just a blur.
    By evening, Wolf hadn’t returned.
    You’re safe, Wolf, I thought. At least for today.
    My whole family was tense. At dinner, we hardly spoke. Emily talked about the movie she had seen the night before, but no one joined in with any comments.
    I went to bed early. I was really tired. From tension, I guess. And from being up most of the night before.
    My room was darker than usual. It was the last night of the full moon, but heavy blankets of clouds covered the moonlight.
    I settled my head onto my pillow and tried to get to sleep. But I kept thinking about Wolf.
    The howls started a short while later.
    I crept out of bed and hurried to the window. I squinted out into the darkness. Heavy, black clouds still covered the moon. The air was still. Nothing moved.
    I heard a low growl, and Wolf came into focus.
    He was standing stiffly in the middle of the back yard, his head tilted up to the sky, uttering low growls. As I stared out the window at him, the big dog began to pace, back and forth from one side of the yard to the other.
    He’s pacing like a caged animal, I thought. Pacing and growling, as if something is really troubling him.
    Or scaring him.
    As he paced, he kept raising his head toward the full moon behind the clouds