After many days, another child had vanished last night. Because of the wolves' howls, the adults searching had brought hunting dogs and guns.
This hunt was different from the hunts of the aristocrats; it was filled with anxiety and rage. For a time, I too found my anger unbearable.
After walking for some time, we entered a patch of heather. A gray figure moved between the interwoven leaves.
Someone fired. The gray animal let out a doglike whimper and quickly vanished from our sight.
"It's not dead yet," said the man who had fired.
"You couldn't hit it from that close?" someone mocked.
"You have your responsibility," Van Helsing told me. "Others have theirs. You only need to fulfill your own duty."
I had experienced many unpleasant things in my life, but never had I felt as burdened as I did now. We searched the entire day, until night had deepened. The next shift continued the search with lanterns, while those who had searched during the day withdrew beyond the Wolf Zone.
"Are you going back, or are you coming somewhere else with me?" Van Helsing asked.
I took garlic and other things I thought might be useful. The barking of dogs in the distance carried a sorrowful omen, and my heart turned as cold as ice.
We did not follow the road the carriage had taken last time. Instead, we passed through the shadows of oak and beech trees and climbed along the cliff beside the pass, with a deep valley between the mountain ridges directly beneath our feet. The forest was pitch-black, setting off the whiteness of the rocks.
"Can you manage?" Van Helsing asked.
"Denn die toten reiten schnell," I told Van Helsing. It was a line of poetry, meaning, "The dead ride swiftly."
Van Helsing laughed